For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6)Christmas is here. Santa Claus has come and Ella and I have opened our presents. I am the proud owner of a Lava Lamp. I love those. This one sits on my shelf and will be kept lit all the time. They are a pain to get going, especially as we keep our house in the low 60’s.
Ella has her perfume and some black jeans she had been wanting. One thing I got her that I really like is a red necklace, big red stones on a pewter background. I liked it the minute I saw but was afraid I wouldn’t get it. But I did.
We have always had Christmas on Christmas morning. Santa always comes for us. We both get up in the middle of the night and arrange the presents on a chair or somewhere. The larger presents go on the chair and the smaller ones go into the stocking. We used to only put small things in the stockings, but we don’t now.
It is always fun to do this. Ella grew up in a Christmas Eve unwrapping family and I grew up in a Santa arriving, Christmas Day unwrapping family. She liked my paradigm better so that is what we do.
In her case, once they unwrapped all the presents on Christmas Eve, there was nothing really left for Christmas Day. This way, she is able to share in the excitement of a guy who woke up each Christmas morning with presents under the tree. It was always, always magical.
And it still is. When we come in and see the presents, it is easy to forget that we put them there ourselves.
Some people never grow up.
But the presents remind us of the season. We do not give gifts simply because we like each other. We give them because of the Gift that God gave us: his Son.
The shepherds gave him the gift of their praise. The wise men gave him expensive gifts. We give him pathetic little broken gifts which he turns into something great: our hearts.
And he makes us a gift worthy of the King.
Today is the one day of the year that even the most hardened atheist has trouble missing. In this season, even little spoiled, hedonistic brat pop stars sing his praises. Even old country singers who have soaked themselves in liquor and sex manage to croak out praise to him.
It is strange how that works. As hard as they work, the world cannot stop Christmas. It is still not Giftmas (a term I despise), it is Christmas.
And he is real and my King because of the gift on Christmas.
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