I still believe

In less than two weeks Christmas 2012 will arrive on time as always. There have been nearly thirty Christmas mornings that I have shared this festive occasion with little children gathered around an overly-decorated tree; this year will be no different. Life’s circumstances have allowed this unbroken chain of Santa believing little children sharing my warm and cozy living space. My own children have grown past the customary age of belief, although not too old to anticipate the unwrapping of gifts that bear their name. Now it is my grandchildren which fill the role that I myself have never abandoned. 

Yes my friends, I still believe.

Now I must veer away from old Saint Nick for just a moment. Christmas is the celebration of the birth of our Savior, of this there is no doubt. For more than two decades I have awoke on Christmas morning with the name of Jesus Christ on my lips, thanking Him for what He did. I cherish those few minutes before lights are lit and the patter of little feet wake up a sleeping house. I take those moments to reflect on the gift that He offers to all, young and old, boy or girl, rich or poor, proud or humble, it makes no difference to Him for He accepts us just the way we are. And then I wonder who will receive His gift today? Is it someone I know? Is it someone that I almost told the story of Jesus to but then hesitated for whatever selfish reason? Oh then I ask Him again for the boldness to never hesitate, to have the zeal to declare the Good News to all those He places in my path. What a gift He gave! What a gift to share!

So what about old Saint Nick? Why do I still believe in this portly mythical figure with his white beard and rosy cheeks? After all I am the one who spends too much time in checkout lanes followed by spending too much money on too many gifts that are too soon forgotten, and then finally spending too many sleeping hours wrapping gifts with hands that were not made for such delicate work. With all this evidence to the contrary I still believe.

Over the years all my children have inquired at one time or another as to the truthfulness of a Santa Claus. My response has always remained the same—“If you don’t believe then there will be no presents under the tree that are from Santa Claus.” Now before you think that harsh, let me clarify, non-belief did not reduce the number of gifts, it just changed the names on the gift tag from “Santa” to “Dad”.

So why do I still believe? Because of the story. Which story, you may ask, for there are many. But most don’t have the charm of the one that comes first to us when we are but two or three years young. The story of Sinterklaas is interesting but too boring. The Scandinavian folklore of Tomte and the Brit’s goat riding Father Christmas are both remarkable but without the charm of good old Santa Claus.

The Santa Claus that employs elves to make gifts for boys and girls, who lives in the North Pole at One Santa Claus Lane, who eats the cookies and drinks the milk left by good little boys and girls, who flies through the night sky in a sleigh pulled by tiny reindeer, who climbs down the chimney (even when you don’t have one) and leaves the toys under the tree…this is the Santa I believe in. He gives hope to every little child that just believes. Don’t believe that bunk about coal in your stocking, have you ever known him too blacken the lining of a single stocking?

I can still capture that feeling I had so many years ago now that comes with believing “tonight Santa Claus is coming!”  And if I have that feeling for just a moment and can share it with children that are still young enough to believe, then I will always believe.

Believing in something good is…good. I hope that you believe. Believe first in Christ, and then believe in what Santa brings. It is okay to do both as long as you know which is real and which is just for fun. They both have a gift, for the naughty or nice, it makes no difference; they accept you just the way you are.

Merry Christmas