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 Not so long ago I might have jumped on the bandwagon and decried
this purveyor of over-priced (my opinion, of course) java juice as
being anti-Christian. But seriously, do the words “Merry Christmas”
make a cup, or a business, or a holiday, for that matter, more
Christian?
Now I’m no fan of cultural drift, but I wonder if the offense we are
really feeling isn’t so much about an assault on our faith, but on
our memories. The world is devolving before our very eyes. The
country we remember from our youth is growing in diversity and
feeling the awful weight of years of warfare with no end in sight.
And don’t even get me started on the perpetual partisan posturing of
our nation’s leaders! We’ve all, in the words of Auntie Mame, “Grown
a little leaner. Grown a little colder. Grown a little sadder. Grown
a little older…” and something deep inside us needs “a little
Christmas” – at least Christmas like it used to be. You know, in the
days before you had to worry about offending someone with a
specifically Christmas-centered greeting instead of offering a more
politically correct, culturally sensitive, and completely generic
salutation. No wonder I find myself wanting to go back to the days
of Christmas past.
Care to walk down memory lane with me?
 Well, it’s really more like a hike through a forest of memories. The
trail eventually leads me to a brick farmhouse in a little hollow in
the cornfields where I grew up. (On second thought, let’s say where
I lived when I was young, since I’m not too sure I’ve grown up yet.)
In my mind I climb the stairs and stand on the porch and peek
through the living room window and watch as family scenes unfold. A
Christmas tree that starts out as a wooden dowel painted green with
holes drilled in it is standing sort of straight in its little red
and green stand. Mom unfolds and shapes stiff, wiry branches. Dad
exercises an impressive vocabulary of words he picked up in the army
as he attempts to untangle the strings of large, colorful lights
that mysteriously snarled themselves in the closet since they were
neatly put away months before. The stick eventually morphs into a
lovely tree. Soon vibrant paper-wrapped boxes with shiny bows appear
and I can see a younger version of myself and my little brother
poking around trying to figure out what in the world they might
contain. A simple, but beautiful table is prepared. The smell of
freshly baked sugar cookies. A bowl of mixed nuts and a dish of hard
ribbon candy. Stockings ready to be filled. Now I see myself
excitedly waiting by the window watching for headlights to shine
down the hill heralding the arrival of my siblings so that we could
all celebrate Christmas Eve together. We weren’t exactly the
Walton’s, but it was still good. Sweet. Simple. So long ago. Perhaps
my recollections have even stirred up a few of your own.
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Reminiscing brings my soul a measure of comfort, but tragically my
recollections don’t have anything to do with Christ or the true
meaning of Christmas. It wasn’t until I was well into my teenage
years until I really heard the Christmas story. Prior to that the
only connection I understood between Jesus and Christmas was
confined to a single scene in the perennial TV special A Charlie
Brown Christmas. You know the one. Charlie is struggling with the
lack of meaning in the holiday and asks, “Doesn’t anybody know what
Christmas is all about?” Thankfully his pal, Linus, is there to set
him straight. “For unto you is born this day a Savior…”
It stings to say this, but precious little of what many of us
associate with Christmas is actually Christian. Santa Claus is much
more the creation of Clement Moore and Coca-Cola than the Saint
Nicholas of history. Lights on trees in our houses? Traditional
perhaps, thanks to the Protestants in Germany, but Biblical? It’s
time we face up to the fact that Black Friday, Small Business
Saturday and Cyber Monday aren’t holy days. Why should we expect
merchants to keep Christ in Christmas if we don’t?
Christmas may not have been about Christ in my younger days, but
knowing Him has changed everything, especially Christmas. Don’t get
me wrong. I still savor the other stuff – the lights, the songs, the
food, the sentiments, and the gatherings with family and other loved
ones – but my heart longs for the Savior. Christmas points my heart
to Jesus. I want the Babe in the manger. I want the Commander of the
winds. I want the Man on the cross and I want the Conqueror of
death. And especially, in this ugly world so marked by trouble and
bloodshed, I long for Christmas future – the day when Jesus comes to
reign. I want the King who will rule in righteousness. Like the
little boy who once sat on the edge of his seat waiting for his
sister and brothers to arrive now I can hardly wait until His Advent
– the arrival of the One who will untangle the snarled mess we’ve
made of His world.
This Christmas you can keep your plain red cups. Just give me
Christ!
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