and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us

I've been thinking a lot about Christmas. It's usually such a joyous time of the year, but I find myself both  excited and saddened as it approaches. I'm so sad to see a world that celebrates the fleeting things of life on a day where we should be praising the only thing that will last. It sickens me that things such as writing a wish list to Santa, spreading mythologies about flying reindeer that "save" Christmas, and kissing under mistletoe are all lumped together with the long awaited Messiah coming to earth as the God-Man. 

It isn't the whole "getting" thing that bothers me the most, though. I could give everything I have to the poor this Christmas and the sad state of the matter would stay the same. Unless I am honoring Christ as Lord, everything will just be done with the attitude that I can earn forgiveness, that I am worthy of salvation. I ask this: was Christmas ever about us? When did it become the most important thing to surround ourselves with beautiful things, hold our family close, stuff our faces with food, and expect to receive presents? I can't help but think of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. Their surroundings were as beautiful as a soot-covered cave, layers upon layers of dung on the floor, and a bed of hay - probably well-used. No garlands, lighted trees, candles, tinsel, or shiny glass bulbs. They didn't gather their family around them in the safety of their home, but had to travel to a land they could hardly have known, all alone - and at the most vulnerable time of Mary's life. I can hardly imagine that a feast could be found in a "stable", especially in a city that was overcrowded for a heathen king's census. And, yet, God did not let the birth of His own son go unnoticed. He sent a whole chorus of angels to shout praises for a startled audience of a few shepherds watching their flocks by night. He set aflame a new, bright star in the heavens. Yes, Jesus came to save His people from their sins, but it was entirely HIS doing, not ours. I truly believe that Christmas started out as a celebration of the amazing thing God did (and is still doing), but the truth (and severity) of the matter has been buried under piles and piles of wrapping paper, sin, and guilt.

Here's what I think: we've made the act of celebration to be the very thing we celebrate. Instead of worshiping God with our actions, we worship ourselves by them. The reason we make our houses more beautiful than any time of the year should be to remember that long awaited day when the Messiah would come to earth. The reason we gather our families around should be to tell the wonderful news that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. The reason we should celebrate with the very best that we have should not be to gratify our fleshly desires, but to give all to Him who gave all. 

I really don't know how to settle all these thoughts in my mind with the way things are now. I'm still decorating my house, but I'm putting a lot more thought into how I do it and what (if any) symbolism there is behind the things I do. I am still getting presents ready for those I love, but I am much more aware that it should be an outpouring of gratitude rather than simply to see the smiles on their faces. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with bringing joy to your children. What's wrong is when that overshadows a holy God sacrificing himself to keep his own righteous requirements. There is no greater cause to celebrate than that!