Anchor Lincoln Advent Calendar 2025

Thanks for taking part in our Advent Calendar this year. As we bring this season to a close, take a moment to watch this perspective on the Christmas story as provided by modern day residents of Bethlehem.

Growing up, holiday traditions never quite found a place to land in my home. They existed, I knew, just not with us—like music drifting in from another room. I noticed them. I just didn’t inherit them.

So when Brittany and I got married, I made a quiet decision: we would build something of our own. Not something flashy or perfect, but something durable. Traditions that could survive changing seasons, tight budgets, new responsibilities. Traditions we could return to year after year and say, this is ours.

That decision came with a complication: I’m not naturally a Christmas person. I love what Christmas stands for—family, joy, hope, gratitude—but growing up, the holiday itself often arrived with more tension than peace. December felt loud and heavy. More pressure than presence. Which raised a fair question: how do you create something beautiful and repeatable around a holiday you don’t instinctively embrace?

For us, the answer was simple and unexpected. We centered Christmas around something we both love: travel.

One of our most meaningful Christmas memories came in Whistler, British Columbia. The village looked like it had stepped straight out of a movie—lights glowing, snow blanketing everything in sight, the cold air giving you permission to slow down and stay close. Fires crackled. Time softened. Whistler felt right. And, for the first time I could remember, Christmas felt right too.

What makes that memory even more remarkable is what surrounded it. That year was hard. I had just lost my job. My confidence was thin. I was wrestling with deep questions about calling, purpose, and what God was asking me to give my life to. Money was tight. The future felt uncertain. Rent loomed larger than plans. And in the middle of all that, our dear friend Todd gave us a gift—space. A chance to breathe. A chance to step away and be held for a moment by beauty and quiet.

That trip didn’t fix everything. But it gave us something just as important: refuge. It gave us rest. And somehow, without us naming it at the time, it gave us a tradition.

That’s what we’ve discovered we need—then and now. Every year carries its own weight. The highs are real, but so are the lows. Parenting demands. Work stress. Relationships that require tending. Life has a way of accumulating. And by the time December arrives, making it to the end of the year can feel less like celebration and more like crossing a finish line.

This year, our little family will do it again. We’ll escape for a few days. We’ll eat Christmas dinner at some cheap restaurant. We’ll spend most of the day unpacking bags and settling into a temporary space. It won’t be glamorous. But it will be ours.

Because once a year, we choose the inconvenience. And in choosing it, we choose each other. We choose rest. We choose memory. And somehow, year after year, Christmas keeps finding its way home.

Sometimes you try things and they go off the rails.

Proverbs 1:8 says “Do not forsake your mother’s teaching.” It probably should also say “Do not stray from her recipes.”

This Advent season, I offer you the gift of feeling really good about your culinary skills in comparison to mine.

May all your Christmas baking turn out far better!

Download Danish Kringle Recipe

Today I made ornaments out of my children’s handprints.

Earlier this year, our family lost our home in the Palisades Fires. In a matter of moments,
everything familiar was gone- rooms filled with memories, keepsakes collected over the years,
even ornaments that would come out every December, each telling a story of where we’d been
and who we were then.

This Christmas, we are starting over.

As I pressed Blakely and Zealand’s hands into clay, I was struck by how small and imperfect the
prints were- lines uneven, fingers wiggling, no two the same. And yet, they are beautiful to me.
They are proof of life, or growth, of presence. Proof that even after loss, we are still here.
Advent is a season of waiting, but it’s also a season of rebuilding hope. The story of Christmas
begins now in the comfort or abundance, but in displacement- a family far from home, with no
room prepared for them. And yet, it was there, in that fragile and humble place, that God chose to
dwell among us.

Ornaments of Hope

These ornaments are our light this year. They don’t replace what was lost, but they remind us that
God is still creating something new. We’re beginning a new tradition- each year making or
gifting ornaments to one another. Memories can be rebuilt and beauty does come from ashes.
This Christmas, our tree may look different. Our home may look different. Our church home is
different. But the heart of the seasons remains the same: Emmanuel- God with us. In the waiting.
In the rebuilding. In the small hands and new beginnings.

May this season remind us all that even when we start over, we never start alone.

Sometimes the holidays are hard – and the joy of the season doesn’t come easy.

Maybe it’s the loss of a loved one. Or challenging finances. Or the heaviness of the news. Or a recent diagnosis. Maybe memories from a painful childhood get stirred up this time of year.

Whatever the reason, it can be difficult to step into the light and laughter when our hearts feel so heavy.

If there are tears… let them flow. Feel the hurt, honor the grief, and know that you are not alone.

“The Lord is close to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

(Psalm 34:18)

Oh how we need this hope. Oh how we need this Jesus.

Son of God – born in a manger. Still drawing near to us today.

May He meet you exactly where you are this year. Whether it’s in celebration or in sorrow.

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Crying for a Christmas
Scott Krippayne/Jeff Peabody

These are the lives of the rearranged
Scattered souls who have been displaced
With nowhere else to turn

Like Bethlehem we’ve packed the place
Human need fills every space
No room at the inn
Still God found a corner
Made a bed down in the hay
Could he reappear, make his advent here
Will he still draw near today

My world is crying
Crying for a Christmas
Some way to know for sure that our God is with us
We could all use a sign, a little glimpse of divine
For a world that still cries for Christmas

Feeding trough on a dirty floor
Unimpressive welcome for
God Almighty’s Son
Are we as blind to incarnation
Daily proof of our salvation
Love’s already come

We are not abandoned
All alone in our despair
He who once came down, He can still be found
Every when and everywhere

Chorus

Joy to the world the Lord has come
Joy to the world the Lord has come
Joy to the world the Lord has come, the Lord has come

Jesus you are here, Jesus you are now
Jesus you are here, Jesus you are now

Our world is crying
Crying for a Christmas
Some way to know for sure that our God is with us
We can all be the sign that His love is alive
For a world that still cries for Christmas

Each year during the advent season, a forest of beautifully handcrafted Christmas trees begins showing up around the church. But trees don’t just grow on trees; someone put a lot of time and energy into making them.

That someone is Jane Caro, and she was kind enough to share some of the backstory behind what has become part of the seasonal tradition at Anchor Lincoln.

Did you come up with the concept for these trees?

Jane: It was Annie Brandt’s idea. She was such a big part of this church and she had such a vision for design and creating welcoming and festive spaces. She asked me to create them.

What made her think of you?

Jane: I was right in the middle of a career change at the time. I think she saw on Instagram that I was in school for woodworking. It was flattering that she thought I could do it.

How did you come to choose that for your career? Had you done much woodworking as a hobby?

Jane: Not at all. I had maybe used a chop saw once. I knew I wanted to do something creative in the trades. With my husband in the military, I was looking to find a passion of my own and one of my instructors suggested I try woodworking. And I loved it.

So you were pretty new to it when you made the trees.

Jane: This was really one of my first public-facing projects. I had a class where I could choose my own design to work on so I turned the trees into a class assignment.

What can you tell us about the trees themselves?

Jane: They’re made of pre-finished birch plywood. I drew them freehand, then rough cut them with a band saw and finished them up with a router.. They store flat, which has made them easy to set up and tear down. It’s nice that they’ve lasted so long.

Well, they are evergreens after all.

Jane: They’re fun. They have such a simple design, but I think there’s more to them than that.

When I was young.  I always remember there being “pre dinner snacks”. for the holidays.  And there was always a cheese ball. Yes. I said cheese ball. What I never knew was my great grandmother made them. 

The recipe is slightly disturbing, but when I think of it. Times back then were so hard and you had to make do with what you had. And what you did not.  So leaving cheese out all night makes sense for this recipe. Living through the great depression made her so strong. Or stronger, holding her faith and family tight.

She finally taught me how she made them. When I was 20!!! And begrudgingly gave me her recipe. 

Printable Cheese Ball Recipe

We were blessed to have 5 generations of us until 2018 when great grandma Frieda went to be with her savior at the age of 96.  She was and is still a blessing to our family.

What can be said of the night?

What can be said of the night is often voiced by the feelings the night calls forth.

When weeping has tarried far too long, when the joy we wish to come would rise as the sun does.

What can be said of the night when it refuses to give way to the day?

What can one say about the moon when it seems to break its covenant with the sun?

When the question “can anything good come from the midnight hour?” turns into “can anything good come from Nazareth?”

Our Holy invitation is to come and see.

Our summons into the midnight hour is just as Holy and Blessed as the goodness of the Lord we will experience in the land of plenty.

It is a Holy uprooting. It’s the type of uprooting only a loving Father can offer his daughter.

“My daughter, do not reject the discipline of the LORD, and do not loathe His rebuke; for the LORD disciplines the one He loves, as does a father the daughter in whom he delights.” (Proverbs 3:11-12)

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Where others have exposed you to shame, the Lord seeks to uncover you to reveal you. He uncovers you because He delights in His daughter. He finds you because He delights in what you do not yet see.

The seemingly endless pruning, trial, loss, and suffering is the peeling back of an identity He did not speak over you. It is the path to life and life abundant. It is the loss of your life to find the one brimming with hope.

The testing is bringing forth the version of you that is needed to walk in the fullest measure of who He has called you to be. It is the version of you that will embody the hope to which you are called.

This isn’t death. It’s a rebirth.

So what can be said about the night?

What can be said about the night is better expressed by the one who enters into our midnight hour to put into words the feelings that only seem to come out of us as wordless groans. It is the voice of our eternal High Priest working all things together for good. Even the pains of the midnight hour.

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Scripture to meditate on

Desolate: barren or laid waste

What the Lord says over the barren places:

“Where is your wife, Sarah?” they asked.

“There, in the tent,” he replied.

Then the LORD said, “I will surely return to you at this time next year, and your wife Sarah will have a son!”

Now, Sarah was behind him, listening at the entrance to the tent. And Abraham and Sarah were already old and well along in years; Sarah had passed the age of childbearing. So she laughed to herself, saying, “After I am worn out and my master is old, will I now have this pleasure?”

And the LORD asked Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh and say, ‘Can I really bear a child when I am old?’ Is anything too difficult for the LORD? At the appointed time, I will return to you—in about a year—and Sarah will have a son.”

But Sarah was afraid, so she denied it and said, “I did not laugh.”

“No,” replied the LORD, “but you did laugh.”
(Genesis 18:9-15)

What the Lord says to the places that have been laid waste:

“This is what the LORD says: In this place you say is a wasteland without man or beast, in the cities of Judah and in the streets of Jerusalem that are deserted—inhabited by neither man nor beast—there will be heard again the sounds of joy and gladness, the voices of the bride and bridegroom, and the voices of those bringing thank offerings into the house of the LORD, saying:

‘Give thanks to the LORD of Hosts,

for the LORD is good;

His loving devotion endures forever.’

For I will restore the land from captivity as in former times, says the LORD.

This is what the LORD of Hosts says: In this desolate place, without man or beast, and in all its cities, there will once more be pastures for shepherds to rest their flocks. In the cities of the hill country, the foothills, and the Negev, in the land of Benjamin and the cities surrounding Jerusalem, and in the cities of Judah, the flocks will again pass under the hands of the one who counts them, says the LORD.” (Jeremiah 33:10-12)

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Prayer

Holy Spirit, search my heart and mind. See if there is any anxious way in me. Intercede for me according to the will of God. When the weight of the midnight hour threatens to steal my strength and voice, I ask that you would pray for me when I feel too weak and when I’ve run out of things to say. Holy Spirit, only you search out the things hidden deep, even the deep things of God. Only you know the very thoughts of God. As you search all things, would you find the beauty of the Father’s predestined purpose in me and remind Him of it. I know that when I call on Him, He answers. I know that He reveals great and hidden things to me that I do not know. God, would you show me how you are weaving together my story for your Glory and my good. I ask for a spirit of wisdom to understand the revelation you want to share with me today. Help me to patiently endure as I wait on you. Renew my strength, heart, body, mind, and spirit so that I may soar on wings like eagles.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

However, as it is written: “What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived” — the things God has prepared for those who love him— (1 Corinthians 2:9)

To love Him is to wait on Him.

If you’re looking for a Christmas album, one of my favorites is by Citizens, Repeat the Sounding Joy – EP. It features songs like “Joy to the World” and “Silent Night”, but my favorite is their rendition of “Come and Stand Amazed”. 

This song goes on repeat for me during the Christmas season as it calls us to awe of our almighty God humbling himself to the vulnerability of a newborn.

The last words always gut punch me:

O Emmanuel, my savior, let your death be life for me.” From the manger to the cross, Christ’s death grants us eternal life.

I pray this Christmas season we take time to reflect and rest in the Good News and birth of our Savior.