In the aftermath of Category Five Melissa many are asking a deeply human and honest question: Can we truly have a merry Christmas after such devastation?

When roofs are torn away, livelihoods disrupted, communities shaken, and familiar landscapes forever changed, the word merry can feel distant — almost inappropriate. Yet from a biblical perspective and from the lived experience of resilient people, the answer is a resounding yes.

Christmas has never been about perfect conditions. The first Christmas was born out of crisis. Mary delivered her child not in comfort but in a stable. Joseph faced uncertainty and fear. Shepherds lived under Roman occupation. The world into which Christ was born was politically unstable, economically strained, and spiritually weary. Yet heaven still declared, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men” (Luke 2:14, KJV). God chose to enter humanity not in ease, but in adversity.

In Jamaica, and across our region, we know what it means to endure storms — both literal and symbolic. Category Five Melissa tested our infrastructure, our patience, and our faith. But it did not break our spirit. Scripture reminds us, “The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit” (Psalm 34:18). God draws closest when loss is greatest.

Christmas after disaster invites us to redefine joy. Joy is not the absence of pain; it is the presence of hope. The apostle Paul declared, “We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8–9). Our houses may be damaged, but our hope remains intact. Our plans may be altered, but God’s purpose stands firm.

The resilience of our people has been unmistakable. Neighbours helping neighbours, strangers sharing food, churches opening their doors, and communities praying together — these are the living sermons of Christmas. Acts 2:44-45 describes the early believers sharing all things in common, ensuring none lacked. In this season we are seeing that same spirit reborn in our communities.

The psalmist declares, “Through thee will we push down our enemies; through thy name will we tread them under that rise up against us” (Psalm 44:5). And elsewhere, “By my God have I leaped over a wall” (Psalm 18:29). With God in our midst, we run through troops and leap over walls — not walls of brick alone, but walls of despair, fear, and grief.

Christmas after Melissa may look different. Decorations may be fewer, meals simpler, and celebrations quieter. But perhaps this is the Christmas we need most — a Christmas that centres on life, gratitude, faith, and community rather than excess. The prophet Isaiah spoke of a people who walked in darkness yet saw a great light (Isaiah 9:2). That light still shines.

Yes we can have a Merry Christmas — not because everything is perfect, but because God is present. Not because the storm did not come, but because it did not have the final word. As we celebrate this season, let us give thanks for life preserved, friendships strengthened, and faith deepened. Let us remember that Emmanuel — God with us — is not seasonal, but constant.

In this Christmas season, may our resilience testify, our unity preach louder than words, and our hope shine brighter than any storm.

ryanreddie33@gmail.com