There's No Christ In My Christmas, by Scott Shirley

A go-kart and a trampoline.  That's what I remember.  When I think about Christmas, especially past Christmases (not sure if that is a word), I usually think about a go-kart and a trampoline.  It was my favorite Christmas year.  My brother and I were probably around 9 and 11 and, like most kids that age, had trouble sleeping the night before.  After finally convincing our parents to get up and let us open presents we headed toward the living room.  Dad went outside.


There weren't as many presents under the tree as usual but we quickly found out why.  We started opening a few presents when Dad came back into the house and told us to come outside.  Right outside the back door was a fully functioning, super-cool looking, already-cranked go-kart.  I had never driven anything motorized in my life but I immediately and fearlessly jumped on, instinctively knew which pedal was the gas and stomped it.  Unfortunately, I didn't instinctively know which pedal was the brake or how to instinctively steer where I wanted to go.  In under 2 seconds I ran our new toy into the fence.  No matter, Dad pulled me back off the fence and I was gone again, getting better by the second.

As I shot around the corner of the house I noticed my brother hovering in mid-air.  Seeing people hovering in mid-air was strange, even at Christmas, so I slammed on the brakes to see what was the matter.  Gift number two was a trampoline.  Holy crap, I hit the brakes.  My brother and I quickly switched places and enjoyed the greatest Christmas ever.

That wasn't the only great Christmas of my childhood but it is the one I remember most.  Other memorable gifts come to mind too but one thing is noticeably absent from my Christmas memories... Christ.  I am not even sure at what age I realized Christmas was supposed to be a celebration of the birth of Jesus.  Christmas was about giving and receiving gifts.

A quick caveat:  I don't blame my parents for this.  In fact, I imagine there are many people who grew up in the Church of Christ whose holiday experiences may be similar.  Why?  Because as many of us have heard numerous times growing up in our congregations, December 25th was almost surely not Jesus' birthday.

The pagan holiday and shepherds-in-the-field arguments against a December 25 birth date are pretty common knowledge at this point and not worth explaining.  We all get it.  December 25th is just made up.  Fine.

Oh, and WHO CARES!

Nobody in the "don't celebrate the Christ in Christmas group" ever complains about celebrating the resurrection on Easter even though the date of Easter can vary as much as 35 from days from year to year.  Obviously Easter isn't usually happening on the day that Jesus rose.

(I am actually concerned that I am wrong about people not complaining about Easter.  I bet someone is going to tell me that we shouldn't celebrate Easter either, it being pagan too.)

I want to feel free to celebrate Jesus' birthday on December 25th if I choose.  The problem is that I can't because I still view it primarily as a time for opening presents.  I can't get Santa out of my "-mas" long enough to celebrate the Christ in my "-mas." (that sounded clever in my head but looks stupid in print)

To each his own I suppose.  If you don't want to celebrate Christmas as Jesus birthday, that's okay.  And its okay if you do.  But I always look forward to the special Christmas sermons, assuming the preacher of the congregation I attend that day isn't against doing one.  I am in a Christmassy mood and it is disappointing when my moods aren't catered to.

So Merry Christmas, or Merry Santamas, whichever you prefer.