Christmas is supposed to be “merry and bright”, full of warmth, family, and joy. Yet for many, this season only magnifies what is missing. Empty chairs. Broken relationships. Lingering grief. Unanswered prayers. And in the quiet beneath the celebration, a question sometimes rises: Has God forgotten me?
One of the most honest prayers in the Bible opens this way through David:
“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my soul
and have sorrow in my heart all the day?” (Psalm 13.1-2)
This is not polished worship. This is raw. David names the full weight of his pain. He talks about emotional distress, anxious thoughts, enemies, shame, and sorrow that return day after day. He wonders if his suffering means God has forgotten him. Many of us feel that same tension at Christmas. We see lights everywhere, but inside it feels dark. We hear songs of joy, but inside, there is grief. We hear about hope, yet we feel stuck in cycles of despair. We wonder if God still sees us. David goes on to say,
“Consider and answer me, O Lord my God;
light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death.” (Psalm 13.3)
This is more than a prayer for relief, it is a prayer for clarity. “Light up my eyes.” In other words: Help me see You rightly. David understands that while feelings are real, they are not always reliable. Our emotions can describe our experience, but they do not define God’s reality. Feeling forgotten does not mean we are forgotten. At Christmas, this truth matters deeply. We may feel abandoned, but the manger declares otherwise. God does not move away from our darkness, He enters it.
Finally, I love David's resolve at the end. He says,
“But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully with me.” (Psalm 13.5-6)
Notice what has not changed. The enemies are still there. The feelings are still heavy. The waiting is still hard. And yet David discovers something that remains within his control: he can choose to trust, to rejoice, and to sing, even before circumstances change. His worship becomes an act of holy resistance against despair.
And this is where Christmas speaks most powerfully into the fear of being forgotten. The world waited four hundred years in silence between the last prophet and the first cry from the manger. Many must have wondered if God had abandoned His promises. But at just the right time, God did not send a message, He sent His Son (Gal 4:4). The birth of Jesus is heaven’s unmistakable answer to our deepest fear of being forgotten. So when Christmas feels heavy, when joy feels forced, when God seems silent, we can still ask our honest questions. We can still pray for light. And we can still sing!