A World of Expectations: Finding True Hope This Christmas
The very mention of Christmas stirs something deep inside, a mix of nostalgia, warmth, and quiet longing. It is more than a date on the calendar; it is a time when memories come alive, lights glow a little softer, and hope feels somehow within reach. Beneath all the carols and gatherings lies a simple truth. We look for something good to happen, something that reminds us that life is still full of small miracles.
I grew up in Romania during the hardest years of communism, when scarcity shaped everyday life. The power often went out, leaving entire neighborhoods in darkness and silence. Most store shelves stood empty, and the few things available were out of reach for many families. Buildings looked gray and broken, food was rationed, and winter seemed endless. I remember being a child, carrying heavy firewood up three flights of stairs to keep our apartment warm (I really disliked that chore). Everything felt heavy, from the air to the days themselves.
Then Christmas would come, and somehow everything shifted, even under communism. People who seemed worn down for most of the year began to smile. Neighbors visited more, lingering in doorways, sharing what little they had. We sang carols, and those simple melodies woke something inside us that the system could not touch. Even with so little, maybe an orange if you were fortunate, a few sweets, or a handmade gift, the season somehow felt rich. For a brief time, warmth and joy felt stronger than the cold pressing in from outside.
Communism finally crumbled in Romania during the December 1989 revolution, right around Christmas. Many of us are still trying to understand how an entire nation found the courage to rise up and step out from under more than forty years of oppressive rule. History will point to politics, protests (external forces), and turning points, and all of that matters. Yet for a moment, allow me to wonder if something else was at work too: a quiet, stubborn expectation of freedom that had been growing, year after year, in Romanian homes at Christmastime. Perhaps that shared longing, fanned by every carol and every whispered prayer, gave people the strength to stand against tyranny.
Those early Christmases taught me something important about the human heart. We all live with expectations, whether we speak them out loud or carry them silently. We long for healing, reconciliation, and relief from grief. And every December, those longings seem to step a little closer to the surface.
The landscape of our expectations
We all carry expectations, especially during this time of year. Perhaps you long for a Christmas that feels like your childhood, a simple, familiar kind of joy. Or maybe you are hoping for a miracle, a moment that will change the direction of your life. For some, this season is a painful reminder of loss, and the only hope is to survive the holidays. When someone you love dies on or around Christmas, the whole season can feel different, almost heavy to the touch.
Some people have a quieter desire that is harder to put into words. It might be a desire to feel less lonely, to be truly seen, or to experience a kindness that does not disappear when the decorations come down. Many people are just asking, "Will this year be any different?" as they juggle their busy calendars and shopping lists.
But what happens when those expectations go unmet? The distance between what we hoped for and what actually happens can leave us disappointed, numb, or quietly cynical. The picture-perfect gathering might be overshadowed by conflict. The gift we were sure would come never arrives. The deep sense of peace we imagined stays just out of reach. This ache of unmet expectations is a real and often silent struggle, and it can make us wonder if the joy of Christmas is meant for everyone but us.
This is where a deeper reflection matters. Christmas was never meant to be only about our picture of the perfect holiday. It points us beyond our day-to-day hopes and frustrations to something larger, something that can hold both our joy and our disappointment.
The first Christmas and its hopes
The first Christmas was also filled with expectations. Mary and Joseph were expecting a baby, but they were also carrying the weight and mystery of a promise they could not fully understand. The shepherds expected an ordinary night in the fields and instead were met by an army of angels filling the sky with praise. Simeon and Anna had spent their lives waiting for the Messiah, holding on to hope year after year, until they finally saw that hope fulfilled in the face of a child. The Magi traveled far, expecting to find a king in a palace, and instead found him in a humble manger.
Every one of them carried hopes that did not unfold in the way they might have imagined. Yet in the middle of their confusion and surprise, God was quietly doing something far greater than they knew. Their expectations were not ignored; they were redefined.
The Word became flesh
In the midst of all these expectations, met and unmet, then and now, stands the heart of Christmas: the Word became flesh. John 1:1, 14 says, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God… And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” This is not just a beautiful phrase from Scripture; it is the center of the story. God did not stay distant or theoretical. He stepped into our world and into our complicated, expectation-filled lives.
He did not arrive as a powerful ruler who stayed above our pain but as a vulnerable baby who would grow up to carry it. He is Immanuel, “God with us.” That is the most profound reality of Christmas. God has drawn near to our joy and our sorrow, our hope and our disappointment. He has entered the very places where our expectations feel most fragile.
Realistic expectations in a world of hope
So what can we realistically expect when we encounter Jesus? The Bible offers an answer that does not depend on perfect circumstances but on God's unchanging character.
Hope. In a world that often feels broken, Jesus is our steady hope. Matthew 12:21 says, “And his name will be the hope of all the world.” This is not a vague or wishful kind of hope. It is a confident expectation rooted in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Because he conquered death, we have a living hope, as 1 Peter 1:3 describes, one that anchors us even when life feels stormy and uncertain. This hope reminds us that our current chapter is not the end of the story.
Joy. Jesus brings a joy that does not depend on everything going right. It is a deep, lasting joy that comes from knowing we are loved, forgiven, and held by God. The angel’s announcement to the shepherds was “good news that will bring great joy to all people” (Luke 2:10). This joy is described in Galatians 5:22 as a fruit of the Holy Spirit. It can live alongside tears, because it is rooted not in how we feel on a particular day, but in who God is and what he has done.
Peace. Isaiah calls Jesus the “Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6). This is more than the absence of conflict. It is a deep sense of wholeness that comes from being reconciled to God. Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you… Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14:27). This peace does not always remove the storm, but it can calm the storm within us. It guards our hearts and minds when everything around us feels uncertain.
Love. At the foundation of the Christmas story is the love of God. Romans 5:8 tells us, “But God demonstrates his love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” This kind of affection is not a love we earn by getting everything right. It is a love that embraces us in our darkest moments and never lets us go. Romans 5:5 says this love has been “poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.” It is this love that drives out fear and assures us that we truly belong to God.
These are expectations we can hold on to, even when the holiday does not look or feel the way we hoped.
A Christmas invitation
This Christmas, instead of trying to fix every expectation, you could bring them to Jesus. The joyful ones, the painful ones, the ones you hardly dare admit. He may not give you everything you want, but he will welcome you. He meets you in both your celebration and your sorrow.
In him, you are offered a hope that does not disappoint, a joy that can stand in the middle of real life, a peace that steadies your heart, and a love that will not let you go. That is the good news at the center of Christmas. Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is born, and in Him there is a world of hope and the hope for the world.
