Medway Messenger column, 21st December 2001: Running On Empty (Christmas)

Last Christmas, my fiancée and I saw the festivities through the eyes of two children – my nephews. Jamie (then aged five) and Paddy (two at the time) were tasked with distributing the presents. The tree and the presents were at one end of the room, the assembled family members at the other. 

While Jamie was old enough to read the labels on the gifts, Paddy was not. If it was his turn, my sister told him for whom the present was destined. In his excitement he would then run to the family members. But he got so excited that sometimes he completely forgot who the recipient of the parcel was and gave the gift to anyone!

This year, my then fiancée is now my wife, and she has made her impact upon the home here. On top of the piano stands a saxophone-playing Santa – but he’s not very musical, he only knows two tunes. That’s approximately two too many. In the dining room is another one who is activated when a light is switched off. He then wishes you ‘Merry Christmas’, plays a carol or seasonal tune, ending with a ‘Happy New Year’ greeting. It certainly feels like a week has passed, waiting for him to finish. 

Last of all, just inside the front door, my beloved has placed a singing Santa. Pass by his magic eye, and you are serenaded with ‘Jingle Bells’. Every time this happens the dog barks at it. In fact, the dog and I are busy planning our ‘Bah, humbug’ routines. 

So what is coming after those two stories? 

You might expect a church leader to write a ‘Bah, humbug’-type article in a newspaper about Christmas. We Christians are very quick to criticise the materialistic excess of the modern Christmas. 

Or the cynics among you might think I’d write a ‘through the eyes of a child’ article, because to you the Christian Christmas is childish, and Jesus is no more real to you than Santa. 

I don’t want to be childish, either. The evidence for Jesus’ existence is rock solid, and that for his death and resurrection is extremely strong, too. Christians are not celebrating a fairy-tale at this time of year, but a birth that changed the world. 

So while I wouldn’t want childishness, there is a certain childlikeness that I would promote. A childlike sense of wonder, to be precise. We adults often run on empty when it comes to wonder. Even if we watch extraordinary TV programmes about the universe or our planet, we soon subvert our sense of wonder by quickly resorting to that peculiarly human arrogance that thinks we can explain everything. 

Christmas is about sheer wonder, however. Here is the love and compassion of God that he surrenders his dignity for us to be born to poverty-stricken Mary and Joseph in far from ideal conditions. 

Maybe it is that loss of wonder about the enormity of God’s love that leads to the kind of Christmas many of us celebrate today. We mask our emptiness with a half-price Sky Digital installation, even though the monthly subscription blows our budget. We think that love is a Playstation 2. 

It isn’t. Love came down at Christmas. Love lay in a crib. Love was born to die for us. Love did not stay in a crib but went to a cross. 

And that is worth the biggest party of them all.

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Copyright © David D Faulkner, 2006 except where other sources are attributed or noted as inspiration.