I tend to enjoy this season for the wrong reasons.

I’ve done a great job of hiding it, but so often I don’t really enjoy the Christmas season until the last day when the presents come out. It’s terribly selfish and I always tell myself I need to appreciate the other things -- the family time, the atmosphere, the reason behind the season. But those things rarely move me on a deep level.

This time around, though, I’m finding I do enjoy the season, because of one simple thing: hope. Christmas may be a time of overhyped deals and greed, but first and foremost it’s a time of hope.

Hope that, even though life may be difficult at the moment, a new year is coming and things can get better.

The ultimate hope, that there is actually someone out there running this whole existence business and he cares about us -- so much he was willing to send his child for us.

I’m learning to appreciate hope because, frankly, 2016 was a rough year for me.

I got laid off for the first time.

I had to replace my cellphone and laptop almost in the same month.

One of my closest friends entered rehab just before my 20^th birthday.

I discovered new temptations and spiritual doubts I never thought I’d have to face.

In the light of these struggles, hope is a wonderful thing.

Hope can feel dangerous, of course. Cynicism tends to be my narcotic of choice, and it makes it so easy to grovel, to believe things will never improve and therefore I can be as self-centered and bitter as I want to be. Feeling hopeful is antithetical to that view.

Ultimately, though, hope isn’t a dangerous thing because it drives people insane. That's a very well-written movie line, but hope really isn't dangerous because it can seem crazy.

In truth, hope is dangerous because it suggests the world isn’t as bad as cynics believe it is.

Hope also suggests it’s actually okay to be vulnerable with others and believe tomorrow can be better.

Therefore, having hope requires giving up some thick, carefully constructed defenses. It asks people to step outside those defenses to see that even in the night, there are stars shining overhead. One star in particularly shines very brightly.

This season I choose to think about that star. I choose to gaze on its beauty and remember the place it leads to. It’s a place one wouldn’t expect anything good to come from, filled with filthy animals and farm stench. In that place, I find, of all things, a hope which transcends the worst spaces.

Something beautiful has come for us.