A Christmastide Pastoral Letter to the Church: Dwelling With the Christ Who Comes Near
As I sit in my office this evening, I am struck once again by the reality that the United Methodist Building in Washington, DC stands as a neighbor to both the United States Supreme Court and the United States Congress. From this place—where faith and public life visibly intersect—I prepare my heart for worship services that celebrate the birth of Christ, the Light who brings joy, hope, peace, and love into the world. And yet, this year, it is not easy to enter fully into a celebratory spirit.
I name this not to diminish the joy of Christmas, but to speak honestly about the weight many are carrying. Some among us feel grief or deep concern about the direction of our common life. Others feel relief, stability, or reassurance. Still others feel exhausted and long simply for peace. As your sibling in Christ, I want to say clearly: there is room in the body of Christ for all of these places and feelings. The Church’s calling is not to collapse our differences, but to shepherd us through them faithfully so our discipleship is Christ-centered.
The Christmas story—particularly in Matthew’s Gospel—reminds us that Jesus is born not in calm or consensus, but amid political tension, imperial power, and fear. Decrees were issued. Families were displaced. Violence was used to protect authority. “When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him” (Matthew 2:3). Jesus enters the world not outside of political reality, but squarely within it.
Yet, God does not arrive through the halls of power. God comes quietly, vulnerably, and relationally—entrusting divine presence to a child, a family, and a journey marked by uncertainty. For many of us, there is a deep longing for safety, stability, and order. Scripture honors that longing: “God is not a God of confusion but of peace” (1 Corinthians 14:33). The question Christmastide places before us is not whether peace matters, but what kind of peace are we seeking and at what cost?
Christmastide invites us to slow down and ask not only what we believe about the world, but who we are becoming as disciples of Jesus. Before Jesus ever preached a sermon or challenged a system, he drew near. “The Word became flesh and lived among us” (John 1:14). Christ does not arrive as an argument to be won, but as a presence to be received. Faithfulness does not begin with agreement; it begins with proximity and presence.
As United Methodists, our primary identity is found in our baptism. In baptism, we renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness and commit to resist injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves. This vow is not partisan—it is profoundly theological. It forms us into a people whose ultimate allegiance is to Christ.
John Wesley reminded the early Methodists that there is “no holiness but social holiness”—not as ideology, but as lived faith expressed through love of neighbor. In this Christmastide season, that holiness may look less like grand gestures and more like small, faithful acts: hospitality, generosity, patience, prayer, and the courage to remain in relationship.
The Church does not have to think the same to remain faithful. But, we must choose to keep walking together under the Lordship of Christ. The Light that shines at Christmas does not eliminate the darkness all at once, but it does reveal a path forward—step by step, heart by heart.
As we journey through Christmastide, we do so echoing the Church’s song: “Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee.” Emmanuel—God-with-us—comes not because the world is settled, but because it is not. Christ comes near to those who feel unsettled and to those who do not feel secure, to heal what is wounded, to challenge what is unjust, and to shepherd all of us toward deeper faithfulness.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (John 1:5).
Grace and peace,
Rev. Dr. Giovanni Arroyo