Christmas is just around the corner and everyone's buying gifts, preparing banquets, going to parties, etc. These are all very nice things to have, and I have nothing against them. But when you leave out the wonder of Jesus these things start to feel shallow and empty. For me anyways.
Today, someone mentioned that Christmas is not a celebration of heaven coming down to earth and the eradication of evil, but the celebration of God coming down here to dwell within us as we live our lives. The celebration of God willing to limit himself to a human body, to experience what we experience, and to show us what it is like to be fully connected to Him, as a human. I thought that was beautiful.
Then there's the substitute that many people seem to be happier to accept. Mr Santa Clause. Typically depicted as a round, slightly overweight old man, although he has had several variations to his appearance. He rides around the world in his reindeer (or whatever people come up with) and gives good gifts to good children and lumps of coal to naughty children.
If I ever have children, this belief won't be encouraged. I think it's cruel to give them hope, knowing full well it'll be crushed sometime in the future. If they choose to believe in Santa, it won't be my doing.
Son of God vs St. Nick. Mind boggling, I know.
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