Family memories have a way of anchoring themselves to this season. Long before the calendar tells us what month it is, our hearts know. We remember the way the house sounded, voices overlapping, chairs scraping the floor, someone laughing too loud. We remember traditions that were never written down but somehow always happened. We remember who sat where, who prayed, who brought a certain dessert. And sometimes, without warning, we remember who is no longer there.

God built families with memory in mind. From the beginning, He intended faith to be passed down through shared moments. Moses told Israel, “When your son asks you in time to come…then you shall say to your son…” (Exodus 13:14). The home was meant to be a place where stories are told and retold, where the works of God are remembered not just privately, but together. Family memory is one of the ways faith takes root.

The accounts surrounding the birth of Jesus are deeply family centered.:

• A young woman carrying a child pondered quietly what God was doing (Luke 1:29). 
• A righteous man took responsibility for a child not his own, protecting and providing (Matthew 1:24–25). 
• Shepherds returned glorifying God, surely telling their families what they had seen (Luke 2:20). 
• And Mary, again, “kept all these things and pondered them in her heart” (Luke 2:19). 

The first memories of Jesus were formed in a home, among ordinary people learning how to trust God together.

Family memories tied to this season are rarely perfect. Scripture never presents families as flawless. The Bible is honest about strained relationships, misunderstandings, grief, and absence. Yet God repeatedly works through imperfect families to accomplish eternal purposes. “He sets the solitary in families” (Psalm 68:6), not because families are easy, but because they are shaping. Through them, we learn love, forgiveness, patience, and hope.

As years pass, the shape of our family gatherings changes. Children grow. Parents age. Seats go empty. New faces arrive. Some traditions fade while others emerge quietly. It is tempting to measure the present against the past and feel loss overshadow gratitude. But Scripture redirects our hearts: “One generation shall praise Your works to another, and shall declare Your mighty acts” (Psalm 145:4). The goal is not to preserve a moment, but to preserve faith.

This season invites families to remember rightly. We give thanks for the laughter God once allowed us to share. We acknowledge the pain of separation or loss without pretending it doesn’t hurt. Jesus Himself wept at the tomb of Lazarus even knowing resurrection was moments away (John 11:35). Grief does not contradict faith; it often proves the depth of love. At the same time, we resist the lie that God’s best work is behind us. “Behold, I am doing a new thing” (Isaiah 43:19) still applies to homes and hearts today.

For families, application begins with intentional presence. Slow down enough to notice one another. Listen to the stories older family members tell, even if you’ve heard them before. Those stories are not just nostalgia; they are testimony. Encourage children to ask questions about faith, about Scripture, about why Jesus matters. “These words which I command you today shall be in your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children” (Deuteronomy 6:6–7).

It also means creating space for Christ to be more than a background figure. Read the word together, even briefly. Pray aloud, even if it feels awkward. Sing, even if voices crack. Let the next generation associate this season not only with gifts or gatherings, but with the nearness of God. Joshua’s resolve still stands as a challenge and a comfort: “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Joshua 24:15).

Finally, this season calls families to hope. The memories we cherish are gifts, not guarantees. The ones we grieve are not forgotten by God. And the ones yet to be made rest safely in His hands. The Christ who entered a family, who honored parents, who welcomed children, and who promised an eternal household, assures us that no faithful love is wasted. “In My Father’s house are many rooms” (John 14:2).

Family memories may fade, but the promise of Emmanuel does not. God with us, around our tables, in our quiet moments, in our changing homes. And that truth binds generations together long after the season has passed.

By: Justin Odom