You better watch out. Santa Claus is coming to our house.
And I’m excited about that. The Santa buzz around here is building and I’m eager to find out what that jolly ol’ dude has in store for my family.
But here’s the dilemma. There’s a truth about Santa that some of you might already know, and some folks think that Santa’s truth is getting in the way of The Truth. The Truth that is living and breathing and blossoming in my heart. The Truth that means everything to me. And Lord willing, that Truth will mean everything to my precious children.
Recently I read a post here
and a post here
, and believe it or not, they both resonated beautifully with me. But how can I be moved by one author who doesn’t celebrate Christmas with Santa and presents while agreeing with another author who not only celebrates Christmas with Santa Claus, but get this, she flat out believes in the ol’ man?! How can I hide elves humorously around my home each night while praying intensely for my dear friend
whose non-Santa practicing family is sacrificially spending their Christmas loving on a country and a people who so desperately need Jesus?
I don’t know.
But I do.
And for what it’s worth, here’s where I’ve landed, at least for now:
1) I love a child’s imagination. LOVE. My absolute most magical memories of childhood are my daydreams and make believes. When my childhood was lonely, I dreamed and imagined up a friend of my very own. Her name was Dorothy, and I still love her. My parents never fussed at me about Dorothy. They let her have a seat at our table and they brought her a water cup along with mine. And I thank them for that, for allowing me Dorothy.
I think this is where I find Santa in all this. It’s an opportunity for me to engage in my children’s imaginations. If only for a few years, it will be delightful to whip up silly stories and fanciful tales about elves and reindeer and chimneys. Some might call me a liar. I call me a dreamer.
2) If I do my job right, there will be no confusion about Jesus & Santa. If I preach THE TRUTH about Jesus all year round, then what’s the difference in December? There is no difference. We still celebrate Jesus in December just as we do in February and August. His miraculous and holy birth. His eternal gift of life. His grace and mercy. Definitely His mercy. It was only this morning that I pulled into our driveway and asked my children for forgiveness and we sat there, the van in park, praying and praising because God is merciful when I’m impatient and snippy and wretched. It’s the week of Christmas and I’m as broken as ever. Santa might be able to deliver happiness in a wind-up toy, but only Jesus can deliver pure, undeserved joy.
In my world, we can sit on Santa’s lap on Wednesday and walk through the life size nativity on Saturday. We can write a letter to the North Pole and paint a picture of the blessed nativity.
It’s not an either-or. And yet the two don’t get equal playing time. Jesus will always be the King of this home.
For me and my household, we will serve the Lord.
Jesus will always be the reason. The reason we breathe. The reason we love. The reason we celebrate. Santa and his shiny bells are nothing more than a fantasy that we bring to life. Jesus, He is our life. He is our heartbeat and our breath. Fantasy ain’t got nothin’ on our faith – our daily bread.
In a few short days, my minis will wake from their sugar-plum-filled visions to stockings full of trinkets delivered magically by a sleigh. And we will thank Jesus. Thank Him for blessing us with a loving home, warm beds, a full fridge, and precious dreams.
And don’t worry. We paid Santa a visit last week. And one thing’s for sure. Jesus has never received this kind of reaction from my kids.
*These pictures are from last year’s Santa visit. There was only slight improvement this year. I’ll share more soon.