PERSPECTIVE 12 DECEMBER 2025 www.goodnewsfl.org Good News • South Florida Edition There’s an old Jewish phrase that has always spoken to me: tzaddik im peltz — “a righteous person in a fur coat.” On a cold night, you can warm yourself by wrapping up in fur, or you can warm others by lighting a fire. One choice is inward; the other is outward. One warms only you; the other creates room for others to draw near. As I look back on 2025, I’m reminded just how full a year can be. We’ve celebrated and we’ve cried. We’ve rested and we’ve hustled. Our travels have taken us two minutes down the road and thousands of miles across oceans. We’ve experienced victories and setbacks — sometimes within the same week. My word for the year — something I try to practice annually — was remnant. Not a declaration, but an aspiration. I want to be faithful, but I’m far too aware of my own limitations to pretend I always am. In my weakness, God shows Himself strong. This year, I’ve been deeply moved by men and women who have run their race well. Their lives remind me of the kind of person I want to be. But I also know this: I can’t simply will that kind of life into existence. I have to surrender to it. Christmas has a way of tying a bow on the year, of helping us finish well. So I’m asking myself: How will I end this year? I don’t want Christmas to become ChristMISS — to miss what God has for me. The question I’ve been wrestling with is simple: Will I put on a fur coat, or will I start a fire? A long obedience Eugene Peterson’s phrase, “a long obedience in the same direction,” has stayed with me for years. Faithfulness isn’t glamorous. It’s steady. It’s choosing the right direction, again and again, through the peaks, valleys and strong currents of life. What throws me off course most often is unfamiliarity. When life takes a turn I didn’t expect, my instinct is to pull back, tighten the reins and protect myself — much like a turtle retreating into its shell. That self-protective posture can easily drift into selfishness, and selfishness always nudges me off course. So the question becomes: How do I finish well — and keep going well? For me, obedience sits at the center of that question. God created all of us with healthy desires for self-preservation and survival. But those desires must be surrendered to something grander: the desire to honor and obey Him. My struggle isn’t usually with obedience itself — it’s that I’m fine obeying God as long as what He asks lines up with what I already want. That reveals the real problem: I’m filtering obedience through my desires instead of His. There’s a theme here… one that keeps circling back to surrender. The antidote to selfishness I often ask myself two questions: How much of me is in my thinking? and How do I dilute that? One of the most powerful ways — modeled perfectly by Jesus — is to pursue others and refuse isolation. Several years ago, I started paying attention to the “invisible” people in my everyday life. The waiter. The coworker in the corner of the meeting. The FedEx driver. The person behind the counter or on the other side of an email. Sometimes even the people in our own homes. How many of them feel unseen? How often am I too busy to notice? I began asking, What if every day I looked for one opportunity to make an invisible person visible? A smile. A kind word. Eye contact. Encouragement. Gratitude. A small act of generosity. A reminder that someone matters — not later, not when things slow down, but right now. Jesus did this constantly. The disciples were invisible until He saw them. The sick and wounded were invisible until He touched them. The crowds were invisible until He stopped for them. Jesus didn’t allow invisibility to have the last word. He made people visible — and then asked us to do the same. Maybe part of reflecting Him in our world is simply this: make the invisible visible. Christmas and the invisible For many, Christmas is their favorite time of year — the weather, the gatherings, the traditions, the gifts, the music, the beauty of the season. But for others — and sometimes for all of us — the invisible parts of our lives rise to the surface during Christmas. Pain feels sharper. Loneliness feels heavier. Loss feels deeper. Whether it’s grief, financial pressure, broken relationships, health challenges, addiction, or uncertainty, we often assume no one wants to hear about our pain. So we put on the mask, keep quiet, and slip into the background. We become invisible. And when we feel invisible, everyone else tends to fade from view as well. But Christmas is the season when God Himself stepped into our world to say, “I see you. I love you. I am here.” The birth of Jesus is God making the invisible visible — showing us that we are not forgotten, not overlooked, not abandoned. So as we step into this season, maybe God is asking each of us to see what He sees. To look for those who feel hidden. To warm others, not just ourselves. To light a fire. Because I don’t want to be the man in the fur coat. I want to be the one who builds the fire. Merry Christmas. Stephan N. Tchividjian is the CEO and co-founder of the National Christian Foundation South Florida. Visit southflorida.ncfgiving.com to learn more. Fire And Fur Coats - Stephan Tchividjian - CEO and Co-Founder, National Christian Foundation South Florida
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