The trees still stand, but the twinkling lights have been turned off. The anticipation is over, and some of us are as empty-hearted as we were before the waiting began. There were no Christmas miracles, no arrivals of hope, no new birth of faith and belief. All the expectations of merry and bright are now simply messes that eventually have to be cleaned up and packed away.

I understand now how people didn’t believe the baby Jesus could be the Messiah. He didn’t meet their expectations. He wasn’t what they were looking for.

When you’re waiting for someone to step into your world and rescue you, a baby born to an unwed mother in a dirty stable doesn’t quite fit the bill. When your aching soul demands a savior, the cries of an infant are a far cry from salvation. When your own heart is broken and empty, you wonder what gifts you possibly could have to offer an infant who’s supposed to be king.

Nothing about that birth makes sense to someone desperately waiting for healing and hope and restoration.

The silent, holy night has come and gone. The ringing bells of Christmas day have silenced.

Some will pack away their hope along with the nativity and the messy remains of days past.

The let-down of empty hands and empty hearts in the days following weeks and months and years of waiting leaves us exhausted and aching. There’s no energy left to renew hopes, make resolutions, or set goals for the coming new year. We can’t bear disappointment again, so we build our walls tall and strong to survive the darkness of a never-ending, bitter winter that refuses to relent.