What Would Jesus Buy? Or, Why I’m Kicking the Eight Pound Baby Jesus Out of the Manger

So, for the past several years, I’ve ranted about the commercialization of Christmas, and pleaded with friends and loved ones to put some magic back into this time of year. No amount of love from those I adore warrants a year’s worth of consumer debt, worry, stress, or consternation.

Instead of buying me a sweater, share a cup of tea with me. Instead of making me some trinket, spend time making memories with me that we both will be unable to erase from our legacies.

This year, the ‘back to basics’ epiphany has hit me this way:

Going broke buying gifts to prove you love me as much as you love the eight-pound baby Jesus, is like giddily leading Herrod to the Christ child. When we buy what we can barely afford, we are laying all our tribute at the feet of Target, WalMart, Macy’s, and Sears. If we’ve converted all our worth into commercial gifts, what do we really have left of value to share with one another, or with Christ?

This year, I challenge you to put aside your notions of tangible value on loved ones. Cast off your warm and fuzzy notion of the baby Jesus in the manger. Consider instead, bravely embracing the 23 year-old, 165 pound Jesus. Not much is written about him. I suspect that he was out and about, eating locusts, doing more of that 'I’m the Son of God' 40-day fasting plan, and generally being tempted in all manner of men. And at 23, he was likely bemoaning that day’s equivalent of walking the life of a man-child. He was finally able to go out and drink with his buddies, but not quite old enough to be getting a good driver insurance rate, due to his age.

This year has taught me more about faith than any other time in my life. Facing death makes one reconsider a lot about life in general, and personal circumstances in particular. I believe that in Christ’s young manhood, he had to be conflicted about his life path, knowing that he was headed for a road of rejection, condemnation, and betrayal, all in the name of the family biz. Still, we’re told, he counted it all joy. He was steadfast in his faith.  That's what I want for all of us in the coming year-- a steadfastness that helps us endure challenges with joy, and a gratitude that makes us drink in every moment of goodness that comes our way.

Instead of casting our lot with the cute and cuddly little bugger in the manger, let’s worship the guy who went through who-knows-what, for you-know-who (us). Let’s emulate the dude who was strong enough physically, and mature enough emotionally, to move forward through the tough times, knowing that doing so gave us all a foothold to joy unspeakable.

Let’s trust one another, hold each other up, love one another in the non-trinket form; in ways that better sustain us, better propel us, and better bond us to one another in the coming year.