Christmas...I Believe

Christmas … I Believe -- Santa or Not

The topic of Santa Claus is controversial in conservative evangelicalism and this blog entry is not a diatribe on the perils teaching the belief in a now dead and canonized individual who gains access to houses by the ways of household chimneys.  Personally, I find it a little creepy.  Since I have neither a true fireplace nor a chimney, he won’t be paying me a visit. Each of my parents grew up with opposing views. As far as I know, my dad grew up with some knowledge of the Santa figure, although he was fairly logical and perceptive about life and not given to much fantasy about jolly men in red suits and flying reindeer.  I think he knew the source of his gifts.  On the other hand, my mom was one of ten during years of the Great Depression.   My grandparents never mentioned Santa, because they did not want to explain why the jolly man in the red suit left bigger and cooler presents for kids on the hill on the hill while they got very little. Mom and her siblings often got the little furniture set repainted and maybe some candy with some miscellaneous items … yeah they were that poor, but they did not know it.  They were happy and loved each other.

By the time I came along, my parents made some conscious choices about Santa. Yes, I would sit on the lap of the Department store Santa and share my Christmas list.  I played the game well, but I knew it was it just a game. Mom and Dad had decided that Santa had no place in our home; Christmas would be more about Jesus than stuff. We still had our tree, our gifts, and the stockings, but I knew it was Jesus we celebrated.  My parents told the story (I do not remember doing or saying this) of the time when I was a preschooler observing our city’s Christmas parade.  Our mayor approached me and asked, “Little girl, what’s Santa, going to bring you for Christmas?”  My response was “Nothing.”   Apparently, he was about to go into meltdown before my blue eyes locked with his and I said something like “Santa doesn’t bring it, Jesus does” He walked away satisfied.


My parents'  only reasoning in the Santa factor was ... if we tell her there's a Santa and she's finds he fake,  will she think Jesus is just a nice story too?   Some people think that's a weak argument, but I knew from day one that the man in the red suit (inside the Sears building) was pure fantasy and that Jesus in the manger (on top the Sears building) was absolute fact.  It was cool to have that understanding. Not every kid was that blessed.

The Santa issue always brought a sense of guilt though. I always felt like I was sinning when I watched Rudolph or any of the Santa Christmas specials. My mistake was in never asking; I just assumed and saw a frowning God. I have realized in recent years sometimes a well-intentioned conviction can become a legalistic force for no good reason.  Santa is a part of fun and pretending of Christmas.  To some degree, he embodies the magical selflessness of the season. Let’s not thrown the baby out with bathwater, to use a tired cliché.  Saint Nicholas may be dead, but Santa lives in the magic of Christmas as we live out the selflessness of the season. Do not allow Santa to replace the Savior, but be balanced in your approach to the season.  Celebrate with joy!

Grace at Christmas

                                                          Grace at Christmas

Christmas is a time of reflection. This year is no exception. When I was 11, my maternal grandfather was hospitalized with an intestinal blockage as complications of severe diverticulitis. His illness was severe and the hospitalization long.  I do not remember much about that Christmas except that it seemed as though a cloud hung over it.  I remember assembling with two of my cousins, a brother and a sister down in our playroom … we were going to do something to cheer the sagging hearts of our parents and grandmother. We decided to stage the Christmas story interspersed with the singing of Christmas carols.  For some unknown reason I took it upon myself to direct the production.  It all progressed quite nicely until we got to the Magi. We were singing “We Three Kings” and moving just as quickly as we could toward Bethlehem and the manger when girl cousin told us to stop that they did not go to manger. At that point, there arose a great family debate. You see, no one had ever told my 70-year-old grandmother the truth about the Magi and the Christ child and we had a whole lot of convincing to do. My uncle who to this day is an insufferable tease looked at me and said, “Director, you blew it.” At that point, the entire family erupted into laughter. The tensions were forgotten.  Grandpa was still gravely ill, but Jesus had given a hurting family the gift of laughter when they needed it.    Oh, he did recover and spent the winter recuperating at our home.  He lived until my first year of college.  God is gracious and good all the time.

                 It was early December again and my senior year of college. Mom, Grandma, and I were on our way to the dedication of a new church. All of a sudden, Grandma slumped over in her seat.  Her last words to us were “Go on where you’re going, I’ll be all right, “   Of course, Mom being a nurse noticed the signs of a stroke. We turned the car around and headed for the hospital. Providentially, Mom knew the attending physician. We were able to get Grandma settled, but she never fully regained consciousness to my knowledge. Christmas was again a subdued time as we each met separate family units ---trusting in the sovereign grace of our Father.    Grandma went to be with her Savior shortly after Christmas … all in His time.  Yes. God is good all the time.