An Unwanted Christmas Guest by Michelle Joy Teigrob

 

A week before Christmas as I was reflecting with gratitude on all who planned to join us for the big day, including my daughter and her husband from overseas, I sent up a sincere prayer. Lord, may our home shine with your hospitality. May all our guests know you are present through our joy, peace, and genuine love.

The very next day, my phone splintered with a text message that reminded me to always be sure I truly mean my prayers as the Lord does hear and answer. Through the text message, I learned that a woman who had recently divorced one of our family members expected to attend our cozy, family Christmas Eve gathering as she always had in the past.

I didn’t understand. This woman enjoyed her own large, separate circle of loving family and friends. Why would she care to join those she had chosen to leave through divorce? Cynical and suspicious thoughts prickled my peace. While I did not worry that she would deliberately do anything to disrupt our time, I couldn’t help wondering if her reasons for attending our gathering had more to do with a desire to collect juicy gossip tidbits to bring back to her own circles than because she enjoyed our company. Was this choice to visit our home truly an act of love and care on her part?

To be completely transparent, I simply did not want her to come; I also felt ashamed of my reaction. I have always sought to follow the biblical call to respect and welcome every person as a child of God. As someone who works daily with refugees from around the world, I feel I am fulfilling a deeply Christian mission to welcome and care for the “stranger.” And yet, here I was, struggling to accept this woman who had been part of our lives for so many years.

God, help me, I prayed. I know you call us to show hospitality to strangers, those in need, and fellow believers (Hebrews 13:2; Luke 14:12-14; Galatians 6:10). But this woman is not a stranger, she is not in need, and I’m not even sure of her faith.  

We decided as a family to accept the woman’s attendance at our gathering, yet my feelings of distrust and aversion to her participation continued to prickle.

As I worked on finishing preparations for the day of celebration, a thought came to me – Jesus was an unwanted Christmas guest. The innkeepers of Bethlehem claimed they could not fit him and his family into their apparently crowded lodgings. But was that the real reason – absolutely no room anywhere? Or were other secret prejudices at work? Mary and Joseph hailed from Nazareth, a small town viewed with apparent skepticism and maybe even distaste in that time (John 1:46). Also, could the nasty rumours that likely swirled around the circumstances of Mary’s pregnancy have followed her to Bethlehem? Of course, this is all conjecture. The Bible only tells us that a lack of space led to Jesus’ birth in the stable. 

Whatever the real reasons for the rejection of that Christmas family on that Christmas night, the truth is – they were left out in the cold. It came to me that I was acting like one of those innkeepers. While I was not leaving Jesus outside literally, my chilly reception of this unwanted former family member basically amounted to the same thing. After all, it was Jesus who said, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). But, Lord, she is not “one of the least.” She is well-set financially and socially. Yet again I received a reminder. What about her spiritual resources? How well-set is she there? Although I wasn’t sure of where this woman stood in her Christian faith now, I knew that years before she had decided to become a Christian after a decidedly difficult upbringing. She still bore the signs of those challenging childhood years in her abrasive personality. As someone who had not been blessed with a loving Christian childhood, what if she was looking to me and our family as those who claimed to be genuine Christ-followers, not for gossip fodder, but genuine love and care? What if she was checking in – not to see if she could find something juicy to take back to her friends – but to learn whether one’s avowed Christian beliefs truly make a difference in how one lives and loves?

Of course, there was no way I could know the true motives of her heart. But I determined then and there that I would do whatever I could to ensure my heart was right. I would be praying fervently that Jesus would be shining brightly through our whole home that evening. Yes, this woman might be coming only to get “news,” but I began to pray that the only stories she’d be leaving with would be ones of how much Jesus-like love she had experienced.

Michelle Joy Teigrob lives with her family in Peterborough, Ontario. Her book on grief, Joyfully Star-mapping through Life's Dung-piles, was shortlisted for the 2025 Word Awards.