When it comes to Christmas, I tend to agree with Charles Spurgeon: “I hold it to be one of the greatest absurdities under heaven to think that there is any religion in keeping Christmas-day. There are no probabilities whatever that our Savior Jesus Christ was born on that day…” But, like Spurgeon, I think celebrating it is a good thing: “Since it is lawful, and even laudable, to meditate upon the incarnation of the Lord upon any day in the year, it cannot be in the power of other men’s superstitions to render such a meditation improper for to-day.”
I’ll admit, though, sometimes all the preparation makes me tired. Yesterday when we were pulling into the driveway, I commented to my daughter that when you really think about it, the idea of putting a lighted tree in your living room is kind of bizarre.
I may have stolen some of her joy with that remark.
All that aside, I am thankful for Christmas. I’m thankful that the temperatures are finally more appropriate for the time of year. I’m thankful for the time off school and work and the chance to spend time with family.
I’m thankful that God sent his son to save us and for the celebration of his birth.
My mother had a similar thought when we were kids, claiming that it was odd to kill a tree and then stick it in a pail of water inside the house.
I think that it’s the oddness that makes me like it
I wish I could leave mine up all year. I love the lights and the glow. Although I admit I like it more knowing the legend that Martin Luther put candles on the tree to show his kids what the moonlight looked like on the trees in the forest one night.