The whole world waited. Unknowing. Hungry for something it couldn’t name. The silence of centuries hung over the earth like a deep, dark night. And then, the Light broke through.
Jesus didn’t arrive as a conquering king or a mighty warrior—though heaven knows, the world had enough of those. Instead, He came as a baby. The Creator of the universe nestled in a manger, crying out for His mother’s comfort. Vulnerable. Fragile. Real. God had become man, and He came not to intimidate but to illuminate—to open the eyes of our hearts.
This is the message Paul Baloche captures so well in his song, Open the Eyes of My Heart. It’s not just a prayer for clarity; it’s a plea for transformation. It echoes the Apostle Paul’s words in Ephesians 1:18, where he prays that “the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which He has called you.”
At Christmas, we’re reminded that this “hope” isn’t abstract. It’s personal. Tangible. Jesus didn’t come to be a distant God in the heavens; He came to be Emmanuel—God with us. And when the eyes of our hearts are opened, we see that the God of the Old Testament, often misunderstood as distant or wrathful, is the same God revealed in Jesus—a kind and loving Savior.
Even in the prophets, we catch glimpses of this God, yearning for His people. Isaiah foretold a child who would be called “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6). Micah spoke of a ruler from Bethlehem whose greatness would reach to the ends of the earth (Micah 5:2-4). Hosea revealed God’s heart breaking with love: “When Israel was a child, I loved him… I led them with cords of human kindness, with ties of love” (Hosea 11:1,4).
But it was in Jesus that these promises took on flesh. The Light of the world stepped into the shadows, not to condemn but to save (John 3:17). And He did it in a way that no one expected—by being fully God yet fully man.
Have you ever considered the sheer wonder of this? Jesus, as a baby, needed His diapers changed. As a boy, He probably scraped His knees. As a man, He got tired, hungry, even angry. And yet, He was also the very image of the invisible God (Colossians 1:15). In Him, the fullness of God dwelled (Colossians 2:9).
Christmas calls us to see this truth clearly. To let the eyes of our hearts be opened. We don’t need to wait in darkness, wondering what we need. We need Jesus. The world still does. And the good news is, He has already come.
As you sing carols, open gifts, and gather with loved ones this season, take a moment to pause. Reflect. Pray the words of that beautiful song:
“Open the eyes of my heart, Lord.
I want to see You.”
Because when we truly see Him, we can’t help but worship. This Christmas, let’s let the Light of the world shine into every corner of our lives—and through us, into a world that still waits for hope.
Charlie Wear's Notes 
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