Have a holly jolly imperfect Christmas
Photograph by Spencer DeMera via Unsplash
Rev. Dr. Justin Cox
I don’t know what you picture when you think of Christmas. Ask someone their thoughts, and you’re likely to hear traditions that sound both strangely familiar and totally new to you. For me, the answers have changed over time. Still, the rituals I have come to associate with it have hung around, impacting me more than I know.
For example, in my house, growing up, we put up our Christmas tree the weekend after Thanksgiving. When my sister and I were younger, this included going to the North Carolina mountains to pick out the perfect live tree; no artificial substitutes were accepted. The lights had to be white until sometime in my late teens, when my mother let go of Martha Stewart’s advice and purchased those gaudy 1970s-colored lights. My retinas are still in recovery.
When the tree was up and lit, the next horn a-blowing signaling the coming of Christmas was the viewing of “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.” More traditions came as the weeks went by. My family and I piled into the car to go and look at outdoor Christmas decorations. We’d drive through the usual neighborhoods and make memorable excursions to glimpse houses sucking the life out of power grids in neighboring towns.
All led to the culmination of Christmas morning. I was the one to rise early, tiptoeing into the living room to see if Santa had come before rushing back in a futile attempt to wake my slumbering sister. She saw no need to rush for her presents and could have slept till noon.
Finally, we grabbed our exhausted parents, gathered around, and flung paper and bows in all directions. In the chaos, an impressive breakfast was served, another tradition we continued even when my sister and I transitioned into somewhat functioning adults.
Many of these rituals now influence my own family’s Christmas.
Of course, the blending of my spouse’s traditions into mine was expected, and we’ve even started a few new traditions of our own that we hope to pass down to our children.
And yet, as I’ve gotten older and arguably wiser, I know the memories I have of Christmas are seen through very rose-colored glasses. I know that not everything was perfect in those moments or on any particular Christmas morning.
I have to be mindful of expectations, especially when it comes to defining what the perfect Christmas is.
That’s the question marketing companies spend millions of dollars on every year. What new toy will Santa bring that is going to give your child the perfect Christmas, or which one is going to make your spouse overflow with joy? I never understood the commercials where a family walks outside to see a new vehicle sitting in the driveway. “Merry Christmas, honey! Here’s your gift! A new car payment for the next 36 months.”
Perhaps, rather than straining to recreate the Christmases we remember — or the ones we see in commercials, movies, and perfect photos — we try looking for the holy in what is real.
And then there are the Hallmark Christmas movies that have been playing nonstop since right after Halloween. Like sweetly addictive bonbons, these programs are intended to satisfy one’s guilty pleasure in answering the question of what the perfect Christmas should be. The formula is always the same.
A career woman moves back to her small town.
Cue a handsome bachelor who reminds her she’s not too busy for love.
Together, they discover the true meaning of the Christmas spirit.
It snows, they kiss, they buy a golden retriever.
Does that sound about right?
Or, what about the influx of Christmas cards composed of seemingly perfect family photos? My spouse’s family does this every year, and it includes a friendly letter detailing what they’ve been doing recently. It’s very moving, touching, and reminiscent of an expression of intentionality not seen in day-to-day life. Yet when I look at those photos, many with smiling children, I think of my own experiences with my kiddos, where I know that trying to take a simple picture with my phone can be, well, an act of God, getting the cosmos to align. Now, don’t get me wrong, these pictures are cheerful and wonderful, but maybe they give off the expectation to others, or maybe more so to ourselves, that this is how our family is. Yet, we know that our families are anything but perfectly put together.
Neither are our expectations surrounding Christmas.
This Advent, instead of trying to answer the question thrust upon us of what the perfect Christmas is, might we examine whether or not we are asking the right question during this time of year? For me, this means being less concerned with recreating something I deem perfect and seeing this time as a chance to see the Christmas story as an invitation into a divinely messy understanding of why I seek a God who decided to come near and reconcile all Creation.
So perhaps, rather than straining to recreate the Christmases we remember — or the ones we see in commercials, movies, and perfect photos — we try looking for the holy in what is real.
A tree that is a little wonky, a missing bulb in a stand of lights, a meal filled with laughter and heartache. A church service that isn’t of Broadway quality.
Because through it all, Christ still arrives. Not in perfection, but in presence. Not in polished expectation, but in the surprising, ordinary beauty of life as it is.
Let Advent and Christmas be the reminder that God shows up in the mess, the joy, the imperfection, and invites us to do the same.
I’ll take that over a car payment any day.
Rev. Dr. Justin Cox is the senior minister at Emerywood Baptist Church, High Point, North Carolina. He received his theological education from Campbell University, Wake Forest University School of Divinity, and McAfee School of Theology. Opinions and reflections are his own.
The views expressed are those of the author and not necessarily those of American Baptist Home Mission Societies.
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