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Are We All Innkeepers? Christmas isn’t about having space. It’s about making it.

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Each Christmas, we hear the familiar refrain: Keep Christ in Christmas.

It’s stitched into sermons, printed on yard signs, whispered between carols and candlelight. And yet, for those of us who grew up straddling two Christmas worlds—one faith-filled, the other secular, commercial, noisy, and nostalgic—it’s not always simple. It’s complicated. It’s crowded. But it’s still possible.

This image stops me every time: “Each of us is an innkeeper who decides if there is room for Jesus.”(Luke 2:7)

That’s not a children’s pageant line. That’s a mirror.

Over the years, I’ve wandered all around the Christmas story. I’ve written about Tonight We Ride—the long, mysterious journey of the Magi. Those strange, brilliant outsiders remind us that Christmas has always carried a universal, multicultural heartbeat: people from distant lands, following an unfamiliar celestial signal, traveling far beyond their comfort zones simply to honor something holy, hopeful, and new.

The Magi story is fun. It’s quirky. It’s unresolved. It’s filled with unanswered questions. And maybe that’s why we’re still talking about it two thousand years later.

I’ve explored Santa’s many faces across history. I’ve traced the roots of Christmas songs, traditions, and the ache of going home for the holidays—even when “home” exists primarily in our dreams. In many ways, we’ve circumnavigated the entire season.

But when the wrapping paper is gone, and the playlists fade, we’re left with the brass tacks:

What if we were the innkeeper?

What would we have done differently?

Would we have gone so far as to make physical space in our own home for the Holy Family?
Or would we have said, “All I have is a place out back with the animals. It’s not much—but it’s yours.”

Would we have made room not just in our house, but in our hearts—for Mary, Joseph, Jesus, and all the unexpected guests that followed? Where exactly do you put choirs of angels? Shepherds and their sheep? Traveling royalty from the Orient?

Could we have slept with that massive star blazing overhead like neon from an all-night diner?

And finally, would the story feel any less awe-inspiring if Tom Bodett had been there, keeping the light on for weary travelers? Would Jesus’ story change if the infant had been born in a Holiday Inn Express instead of a manger?

Probably not. But the question still lingers, uncomfortably and beautifully:

Are we making room? Not just for the idea of Jesus. Not just for tradition. But for the interruption. For the inconvenience. For holy disruption.

Because Christmas doesn’t arrive quietly. It knocks. It crowds. And it asks something of us. 


BONUS QUIZ: WHICH INNKEEPER ARE YOU?
A Christmas Reflection Micro-Quiz

Christmas is more than a memory—it’s a moment of decision. The innkeeper in Luke’s story never speaks. But his choice echoes through history. Take a minute. Answer honestly. There are no wrong answers, only invitations.

QUESTION 1

It’s late. You’re exhausted. Someone knocks unexpectedly. You…

A. Don’t hear it. You’re already overwhelmed.
B. Pause—but think, “I don’t have anything left to give.”
C. Open the door, unsure what you can offer.
D. Immediately start rearranging space.

QUESTION 2

Your schedule during the holidays feels…

A. Packed beyond capacity.
B. Full—but manageable with effort.
C. Flexible if something truly matters.
D. Open by design.

QUESTION 3

When faith interrupts your plans, your first reaction is…

A. Discomfort.
B. Hesitation.
C. Curiosity.
D. Welcome.

QUESTION 4

“Making room for Jesus” feels most like…

A. A beautiful idea—but unrealistic.
B. Something you want to do better.
C. A daily, imperfect practice.
D. A guiding priority.

QUESTION 5

The innkeeper’s most significant challenge was…

A. Not knowing who was knocking.
B. Being stretched too thin.
C. Fear of inconvenience.
D. Recognizing holiness in ordinary moments.


Mostly A’s → Full Innkeeper
Mostly B’s → Willing but Weary
Mostly C’s → Making-Room
Mostly D’s → Open-Door
(Tie-breakers default to the gentler result—never shame)

THE FULL INNKEEPER
You’re carrying more than most can see.
This season isn’t about guilt—it’s about grace.
Sometimes rest is the room Christ asks for first.
Reflection: What might it look like to release one burden instead of adding one more?

THE WILLING BUT WEARY INNKEEPER
Your heart is open—even when your hands are full.
You may not feel ready, but willingness is holy ground.
Reflection: Where could you offer something small without apology?

THE MAKING-ROOM INNKEEPER
You understand that faith rarely arrives perfectly timed.
You’re learning that “not much” can still be enough.
Reflection: Who might be waiting for the space you’re already creating?

THE OPEN-DOOR INNKEEPER
You expect the holy to arrive unexpectedly.
You live with margin—because you believe interruption is invitation.
Reflection: How can you help others recognize the knock when it comes?


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