Why I Want More For Christmas

This Christmas, I want more.

I know. I’m a follower of Jesus. I should be focusing my attention on celebrating the season in a Christ-centered way. I see the ads on TV and in my mailbox, the blatant appeals to consumerism and greed. I read about Christmas shoppers trampling one another in an effort to snag this year’s hottest item for a few dollars less. In this country, we celebrate the birth of our Lord by exchanging animal print Snuggies ™ even as children across the globe cry out in hunger and in need of clean water.

So we talk in our churches and across the blogosphere about doing Christmas differently. We want to focus on those things that really matter—the shepherds, the angels; the story. We try to come up with fresh ways of communicating biblical truths to our children, attempting to dispel fairy tales and myths. We try to teach them, and ourselves, to squelch desire and want less.

But what if Christmas really is about wanting more?

I remember childhood longing, the desire for something better and new. When the glossy, new Christmas catalogs arrived from Penney’s and Sears, my siblings and I took turns poring over their pages. I circled and starred my favorite items, things I didn’t even know I wanted until I saw them on the pages of the Wish Books. I made a list, alternating my hopes and dreams on paper in red and green ink. I noted colors and sizes. I wanted a rock tumbler. A candle-making kit. An outfit that would make me look less dorky when I walked the halls of my junior high school. I remember Christmas as a magical time when I dared to dream big and believe I could have the things my heart desired. I imagined life could be better.

I didn’t know, back then, that my parents could afford few of the items on my list. Usually, by the time I posted it, my parents had already completed their shopping. I received few of the items from my lists. When I did unwrap a gift and find in my hands something from the shiny catalog pages I knew my parents had heard the cry of my heart, perhaps recognizing my desire to appear less dork-like among my classmates.

It didn’t take long, however, to realize that the gifts I had longed for failed to meet my expectations. The new outfit didn’t look nearly as good on my gangly teenage frame as it had on the model in the catalog. I learned that the rock tumbler would take weeks to polish my chunks of granite into smooth chunks of granite. The candle molds leaked when I poured melted paraffin into them, spilling hot bayberry-scented wax onto my mother’s kitchen counters, dripping it into the crack next to the stove. I’ll bet there’s still a pool of hardened wax between the stove and counter top in my old house.

Although the gifts I imagined would bring me joy failed to satisfy my deepest longings, I’m glad my parents didn’t tell me to stop hoping and dreaming. In his recently published e-book titled Discovering Advent, theologian Mark D. Roberts wrote of children and their hopes and expectations for Christmas. He said,

Rather than discouraging these hopes (which is a hopeless task!), I would urge parents to help their children get the “feel” of Advent by relating their hopes to biblical Advent themes.

I don’t want to stop hoping and dreaming, and I’m not sure it’s wise to teach children to do so. Perhaps instead we should recognize desire as a good thing, a holy restlessness for things to be better than they are. I’m not content believing that this life is as good as it gets. Maybe the problem with Christmas isn’t that we hope for too much; it’s that our hopes are too small.

Because what I really want is to live in a world where everyone I love is happy and healthy and whole. I want the entire family gathered around a table, where food and wine are abundant and good, and there is no tension or conflict. I want beauty and lights and music everywhere, and all the time. I want to live in a world where cancer, mental illness, addiction, and abuse don’t exist; where children don’t die of hunger or preventable disease and aren’t trafficked as slaves. I want to see organizations like Compassion International run out of children who need sponsors.

And I fully expect to get everything on my list.

Because all those stories about shepherds and angels remind me that God knows the deepest longings in the hearts of his people, and He keeps His promises. The birth of that baby fulfilled all the promises of the scriptures and the prophets. So when scripture tells me that the Joy of Every Longing Heart is going to return, and He is making all things new, I dare to hope for unimaginably big things.

Because I think wanting more is the most Christ-centered way of keeping Christmas of all.

So I will give and receive gifts this Christmas; some of which will satisfy hopes and dreams, however imperfectly. And I'll support the work of those who offer hope in the name of that Bethlehem baby. But rather than trim my wish list or pare down my expectations this Christmas, I’ll give full voice to my deepest longings and desires. Join me?

If someone asked what your deepest longings were for this Christmas, what would you say?

Joining emily:

 And Bonnie @ Faith Barista:

 

And wishing a happy birthday and hoping for big things for David, my Compassion child who turns five years old today! Click the link for more information about offering hope to a child through Compassion International.