I had a real live conversation with you in the mall last night. Near closing time, the line of anxious children and frazzled mamas had ended. You greeted me warm by your “North Pole” sign. I don’t know if we’ve ever had a true chat before.
I loved the tips on best times to come for pictures, and how many years you’d been stationed in that mall. So I didn’t have the heart to tell you about this post I was working on:
Hey Santa,
I really don’t have anything against you. Your frosty white beard, apple-red cheeks, and twinkling eyes make me smile. And the joy you bring to the little ones remains a cherished sight to see. That deep belly-shaking “HoHoHo” rushes warm memories of candy canes hung on the tree, and of snowy winter days building snowmen giddy–freed from school.
Your image graces the store windows and mantles with glee,
While the stockings are hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that YOU soon will be there.
Excuse my bluntness.
But I have this deep concern.
Your promises are fragile and fleeting. You mean well, but toys are busted and forgotten by the next year, breeding more hunger for the new and shiny. And our lists get longer and longer in this world of want and greed.
People have lifted you to a gilded pedestal, a symbol of hope and giving. You pop up everywhere from coffee mugs to billboards, to television commercials.
But that hope soars free for a moment–only to fall dashed in this broken-down old world.
So I’m sorry to say– move over Santa. Our real needs are way out of your league and above your pay grade.
You can’t deliver the one thing this world needs most.
Saving Grace.
I know the real reason for the season. It’s no secret, there lives someone way more important than you.
Someone who loves me boundless.
You change things for one night.
He changes my life forever.
You see, he is the King of the Universe. Yet, he came down to our world as a babe, laid gentle in that manger. He lived a common life in a fragile body that hungered and ached and felt the pain of a wayward hammer,
Only to die abused, rejected and wretched as was the plan all along,
To save my wasting, undeserving soul.
So you would think that our perfect Savior would be a thousand times more visible during this Christmas season.
But he’s not.
Commercialism has decided he’s not politically correct and he’s pushed into a dusty corner in a darkened storage unit.
So even though you are more conspicuous as we shop till we drop, I hate to be harsh but I have to remind you, Santa,
You are a cheap substitute for the real thing.
So, sorry Santa, I don’t mean to make you feel bad,
But my hope and faith are in the one who gave his life for me.
I am humbled
And thankful
And I owe him my everything.
Regretfully,
L
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“He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God—children born not to natural descent, or of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God. John 1:10-13A
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Posted in: Praise and Thanks, Pursuit of All Things Godly Tagged: commercialism, Faith, hope, humble, John 1:10-13, Santa, saving grace, Savior, thankful←
Amen sister!!! SO well written. Loved it:)