1 Samuel 16:7 — People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.

I am known in my family as “The Mad Not Wrapper.”

Not because I’m angry.
Not because I don’t care.
But because I refuse—*REFUSE*—to wrestle with wrapping paper, tape that sticks to itself, and bows that look like they were sat on.

Instead, I use Christmas-printed trash bags and gift bags.
Festive. Functional. Honest.

If you’re lucky, you might get tissue paper.
If you’re really lucky, the bag won’t have a knot.

And yet… somehow… every year…
There are tears.
There is laughter.
There is joy.

Which tells me something important:
The magic was never in the wrapping.

Jesus never wrapped the loaves and fishes.
No parchment.
No ribbon.
No “presentation matters” speech.

There were no matching baskets or branded packaging.
Just a boy’s lunch.
Bread. Fish.
Ordinary. Bare. Exposed.

And here’s the part we often rush past:

Jesus saw the need.
He received what was offered.
And He gave thanks before anything multiplied.

That gratitude—before the miracle—was the wrapping.

He didn’t disguise the lack.
He didn’t pretend it was enough on its own.
He simply acknowledged it fully and thanked God anyway.

And thanksgiving?
That’s where miracles breed.

We live in a world obsessed with wrapping.

We wrap our lives in filters.
Our faith in pretty words.
Our pain in silence.
Our generosity in explanations.

We size people up by their packaging:
how they speak
how they dress
how polished their testimony sounds

We even do it to ourselves.

“I’d offer more if I had it together.”
“I’d serve if my life wasn’t such a mess.”
“I’d show up if I looked the part.”

But Jesus never asked for polished packaging.
He asked for **what you have**.

Unwrapped.
Unfiltered.
Still smelling like fish.

Some of the most powerful gifts I’ve ever received weren’t wrapped at all:
* a hand held in a hospital room
* a meal dropped off in a grocery bag
* a prayer whispered when words ran out

None of them were pretty.
All of them were holy.

And I wonder how many miracles we miss because we’re too busy critiquing the container instead of receiving the gift.

Here’s the truth the Mad Not Wrapper has learned:

Love doesn’t need lace.
Faith doesn’t need bows.
Purpose doesn’t need perfection.

What God multiplies is what’s inside —
when it’s offered honestly
and thanked for fully.

So this season, maybe we stop evaluating:
our worth
others’ value
our readiness
based on the wrapping.

Maybe we learn to see the gift.

Because Jesus still takes ordinary things, gives thanks, and feeds multitudes.
No wrapping required.

And if He can do that with bread and fish…

He can surely do something beautiful
with you.

Merry Christmas. May your lack of wrapping bring you joy.

Love Chelle