The entire world uses the life and death of Jesus to mark time. Amazing, isn’t it?
Who marks your calendar?
And it’s not about brightly wrapped packages nestled under a beautiful tree, branches brimming with pine cones and ornaments, with twinkling lights and strings of popcorn and cranberries.
It’s not about that last minute frantic trip to the mall, fighting crowds and snarling traffic, to search for the perfect gift for the family member who has everything. It’s not about the promise of presents for kids who behave, delivered on a sleigh pulled by magical reindeer, by a rotund, jolly old man with a snow white beard and draped in a bright red suit.
It’s not even about beloved family gathered around a long table packed with hams and turkeys and enough pies that an entire army could eat for a week.
It’s not all about making Merry.
Christmas…is about a baby born in a musty stable and wrapped in swaddling clothes. It’s about heaven’s best, God-man, coming down to mingle among sin, smelly animals and poop. To show each of us what love really looks like.
Christmas is about hope. It’s about Jesus. It’s about a perfect love that rights all wrongs, about a love that knows no bounds, a love that gives and never ends.
Christmas…because it’s not all about making Merry.