Jonathan Haws As I’ve been thinking about the Christmas story this year, my mind keeps returning to the “wise men”—or maybe better said, the wise ones—who came seeking the Christ child. The scriptures only mention men, but I have a hard time believing that seeking Christ was ever limited to one gender. I imagine families traveling together, women and men discerning the heavens, mothers and daughters sensing the stirrings of the Spirit, whole households moving because someone among them recognized the sign and refused to ignore it. Wisdom isn’t confined; it’s shared. And when something sacred is happening, it draws more than a few solitary figures—it draws communities.
We often talk about the wise ones as examples for us—that just as they sought Christ, we too should seek Him. And that’s true. But the more I’ve pondered it this year, the more I’ve realized that focusing only on our seeking risks missing the tender truth pulsing beneath the whole story.
Because from the very beginning, Christmas is a story about God, our Heavenly Mother and Heavenly Father, seeking us.
Our Heavenly Parents placed a sign in the sky not merely to be admired, but to draw hearts toward Their Son. They were signaling to the world, “He is here. Come and see. Come and receive.” The star wasn’t only for watchers of the heavens—it was Heaven watching for those ready to respond. From the start, God wasn’t passive. They initiated the contact.
And once you see that, the rest of the Nativity starts glowing with this same pattern. A star placed in the night sky at the dawn of creation to invite the wise toward Bethlehem. Gabriel announcing to Mary that she should be the mother of Jesus. Dreams guiding Joseph. Angels appearing to shepherds—“Fear not… I bring you good tidings of great joy” (Luke 2:10). These aren’t just events or stories; they are reminders that our Heavenly Parents are always reaching, always communicating, always seeking us with gifts meant to bless and guide.
That realization made me think about what our lives must look like from Their viewpoint. Just as the wise ones watched the heavens for a sign, our Heavenly Parents watch us—the small acts of goodness we scatter like sparks, the kindnesses we offer, the compassion we extend. These become our own stars, the signals we send back into Their universe. And just as the sign of the star drew the wise ones toward the Christ child, the quiet signs we produce through our choices, desires, and daily discipleship help align us with our Heavenly Parents—because alignment is what opens the channels for Their love, guidance, and gifts to flow into our lives.
The symbolism stretches beautifully:
The star
A divine signal that God initiates communication. Heaven sends invitations long before we know how to respond.
The journey
The wise ones weren’t sought because they were perfect, but because they were willing. Our Heavenly Father and Mother work with the same humble offerings from us.
The gifts
Gold, frankincense, myrrh—symbols of royalty, holiness, and healing. Yet the greater truth is that the Child Himself was the gift. Christmas has always been less about what we bring and more about what God longs to give.
The stable
God comes into our real, unpolished, inconvenient lives. The messiness doesn’t repel Them—it’s where They choose to arrive.
The shepherds
Heaven reaches for the overlooked, the tired, the working class. God seeks those who don’t realize they’re worth seeking.
Herod’s search
A reminder that there are forces trying to drown out God’s signals with fear and noise—yet they cannot stop the gifts Heaven intends.
In all these moments, the pattern holds: Heaven seeks first.
So in this season when we celebrate the Light of the World, I hope you feel—not just believe—that you are being sought, guided, and known. You are not wandering through mortality hoping Heaven might notice you. They already have. And They are still placing stars in your sky, still sending quiet invitations into your days, still trying to get your attention long enough to hand you the gifts They’ve been saving for you.
And here’s the metaphor that has settled deepest in my soul:
Our Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother placed a star to guide the wise ones—and the wise ones responded by traveling toward that light. In our day, They still place “stars” before us: promptings, people, opportunities, truths, moments of stillness. And we, by how we live and love, place our own points of light back into Their sky. The Christmas story becomes a pattern of mutual seeking, mutual reaching—Parents and children calling to one another across the landscape of mortality.
Maybe that is one of the quiet miracles of Christmas: the reminder that while we seek Christ, our Heavenly Parents are always seeking us first, with gifts more wondrous than gold, frankincense, or myrrh—gifts of presence, guidance, forgiveness, and joy. Gifts meant for this season and for every season after.
Merry Christmas.
