What Do You Do With Painful Memories at Christmas?

What Do You Do With Painful Memories at Christmas?

Christmas has a way of revealing what we try hardest to keep hidden. The lights are brighter. The music is louder. The expectations are higher. And yet, for many people, this season carries an ache that doesn’t match the decorations. A chair is empty. A relationship is broken. A chapter ended that you did not choose. While the world insists on joy, your heart may still be carrying grief, disappointment, or memories that hurt more than you want to admit. And let's be honest, this can be a particularly challenging time for many people.

If that’s you, let’s say this clearly. You are not weak for feeling this way. You are human. You don't choose pain; it just seems to have its own way of choosing you. And for some of you reading, it seems like its been choosing you quite often.

Painful memories do not disappear just because the calendar changes. They surface because seasons like Christmas are loaded with reminders. Traditions trigger memory. Songs unlock moments. Familiar places reopen old emotions. Scripture never tells us to deny those experiences. Instead, it assures us that God meets us right there. Psalm 34:18 reminds us that the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. That closeness matters, especially when memories feel heavier than joy.

One of the hardest lessons to learn is that healing does not come from pretending the past never happened. Healing begins when we stop fighting the reality of our pain and start inviting God into it. You don't have to sit around and mope but you do have to remember to forget. Some people just forget. And by forget, I mean they bury it in their actions and never realize the reason they're struggling in certain areas of life is that they didn't take the time to deal with it.

Not every memory carries the same weight. Some remind us of love and laughter. Others feel sharp, unfinished, or unfair. And some memories are complicated, holding both gratitude and grief at the same time. Christmas tends to stir all of them at once.

Scripture offers a different approach than avoidance. Philippians 4:7 speaks of the peace of God guarding our hearts and minds. That word guard is important. Peace does not erase memory. Peace protects us while we remember. It stands watch over our thoughts so that memories do not overwhelm or redefine us. God does not ask us to forget. He invites us to trust Him with what we remember.

There is also freedom in realizing that memories do not get to lead your life. You get to decide how much authority they have. Some memories deserve a place of honor because they shaped who you are. Others need to be placed in God’s hands because carrying them alone is too costly. Releasing a memory does not mean it never mattered. It means you refuse to let it keep wounding you.

Jesus understands this more than we often acknowledge. When Lazarus died, Jesus wept. He did not rush past grief or spiritualize it away. He stood in it. He felt it. That short verse in John 11:35 reminds us that sorrow is not a lack of faith. It is a human response to loss. If Jesus allowed Himself to grieve, you are not failing God by doing the same.

The holidays often pressure us to perform happiness. Smile more. Talk less about what hurts. Keep the mood light. But God is not impressed by performance. He responds to honesty. Psalm 147:3 tells us that He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Healing is not rushed. Wounds are tended to carefully. God does not shame you for still hurting. He stays with you while you do.

There may be days during this season when memories arrive without warning. You are standing in line, driving home, or sitting quietly when suddenly something reminds you of what you lost. Those moments can feel overwhelming, but they are also invitations. Invitations to pause. To breathe. To pray simple prayers like, God, this hurts. Please help me carry this today. Scripture assures us in Isaiah 41:10 that God strengthens us, helps us, and upholds us with His righteous hand. That promise applies even in the middle of memory.

Hope does not mean the absence of pain. Hope means pain does not get the final word. Romans 8:18 reminds us that present sufferings are not worth comparing to the glory that will be revealed in us. This is not a dismissal of grief. It is a declaration that pain is not permanent. God is still writing your story, even in seasons that feel stalled or heavy.

So this Christmas, give yourself permission to feel what you feel. You do not have to rush healing or manufacture joy. You can honor what was, grieve what is gone, and still make room for what God is doing now. Invite Him into the memories that surface. Ask Him to help you keep what is good, release what is harmful, and trust Him with what you do not yet understand.

Painful memories may visit, but they do not have to rule. With God’s presence, they can become places of compassion, wisdom, and eventually peace. And even in a season that feels complicated, God remains near, faithful, and committed to carrying you through every moment you thought you would have to survive alone.