A Christian’s Case for Santa

In my neck of the woods, there is a running debate about Santa. Specifically, to do or not to do. When I first heard of this, it was from a friend from South Africa, so I assumed it was cultural. But no, it is apparently a trend amongst Evangelicals. And people have very heated opinions about the man with the bag. You’d think people were debating politics or something with how fierce and tense the conversations get.

Well, we do Santa. And I don’t feel bad about it. In fact, I think if you don’t do Santa you are missing out. Not just on enjoying the movie Elf, eating cookies, hanging stockings, funny pictures of kids screaming while sitting on an old stranger at the mall, and all that jazz. Not just because you place a heavy burden and secret in your child’s hands. Not just because you are creating a barrier between your kid and his friends in the name of Jesus, likely leading to the belief that Christians can’t play make believe or have fun. But mainly, I think you’re shortchanging your kid because Old Saint Nick is an opportunity to teach your child about wonder, faith, grace, and yes, even the REAL meaning of Christmas.

What’s that you say? You don’t want to lie to your kid?

Good. I don’t lie to my kid, either. I join Henry in his game of make believe. I participate with and indulge his imagination. If you say that participating in Santa is lying to your kid, then I submit to you that you should also never let your kid trick or treat, play dress up, play with trains, or build a cave out of your couch cushions. Did you think I was lying to Henry and Grace when we took them to meet Thomas the Tank Engine? Will we be lying when we let Henry and Gracie gather autographs at Disney World? After all, mice can’t talk, there’s no such thing as fairy Godmothers, and do we really want to befriend a girl who lives in sin with seven men just because they own a diamond mine? Should I admonish Henry when he prays for Thomas? Should I tell him that Thomas is a fictional train?

No. I see his prayers for Thomas to obey Sir Topham Hatt as a sign of learning that we can pray to Jesus about our wants and wishes, that we SHOULD pray for those we love, and particularly that an obedient heart is something I should be praying for as well.

In fact, as I type this, Henry is calling Grace a baby seal and he is being a shark chasing her. Unless he bites her, I’m keeping my mouth shut and am simply impressed that Henry knows what a shark eats because I haven’t taught him. (Apparently he is eating her all up. This looks likes him pulling her on top of him and then kissing her and giving her zerberts.)

I will also say that imagination is essential to the life of faith. Not because what I believe as a Christian isn’t real. Heck, no! It is because Jesus lived and breathed and pooped and bled in space and time. Imagination is necessary because it is historical reality. To believe that the God and Creator of the universe came to earth as a tiny baby, born to a virgin, and was born amongst animals is ridiculous. God should have had a better party planner or publicist. Inviting crowned heads of state was a good call, but Shepherds? To believe that that same baby grew and lived a perfect life and then took upon my yuck so that I could be his little sister and spend forever with him despite the fact that I broke his heart is just about the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. In fact, it is offensive. Scandalous. And yet, that’s what happened. So you’d better believe I encourage my kids to exercise the parts of their hearts, souls, and brains to believe in things they can’t see. Because at some point, their lives will depend upon those very muscles.

But what if my kid comes to me and says, “If Santa isn’t real, how can I trust you that Jesus is real?”

To that I say, AWESOME!!! Your child has just asked you to profess your faith. The Spirit is at work in her heart and is asking you to speak the good news. So do it! And if I’m ever asked that question, here is what I will say.

Dearest Henry and Grace, that’s a really good question. In many ways, Jesus and Santa are very similar. But in very important ways, they are drastically different. I can tell you that both Santa and Jesus were real people. They both were born, lived, had Mommies and best friends, and they both died. The difference is that Jesus was both human, like you and me and Santa, but also GOD. As in GOD of the Universe. He made you. He made me. He made Santa. So when Jesus died, which he did for your sins and mine, it was horrible. God’s heart literally broke in two. And then, in three days, Jesus rose from the dead. Santa is still dead. The men in the mall with the beards are playing dress up. Jesus, however, defeated death. Jesus is alive. And he is now, in his human body, sitting in heaven preparing a room for you.

Santa is also like Jesus in that he comes to you. We don’t ask for Santa to come, but every year, he comes. And Santa gave you presents whether you were good or bad.* Did you ever get coal? No. Santa is like Jesus in that he gives gifts because of his goodness. Not yours. You were never all good. You were selfish; you took things that didn’t belong to you; you lied; you complained; you disobeyed. And yet, you were blessed. Abundantly. That is called grace. Grace is an undeserved gift. But unlike Santa, the gift Jesus gives you is Himself. His very life. And this life He gave and gives, not only lights up a room like a Christmas tree, but changes the receiver.

So Santa, and your desperate love to get all that you wanted, also taught you another meaning of Christmas: receiving. I know we’ve told you it is better to give than receive. But truly, it is far better to receive. I suspect you, as a child, know this better than most. Christmas is about getting. And because of Jesus, we get not only forgiveness, but a rich inheritance because Jesus’ death and resurrection guaranteed us our adoption into God’s family. That’s right, just like Gracie is permanently a Phillips and has access to everything it means to be a Phillips, because of Jesus, we have permanent access to God. We don’t need to face the right direction, say the right words, spin three times, or behave perfectly. We get a room in his house. Your name is written in a book. And Jesus sees you and loves you, so he doesn’t have to check the list twice.

Perhaps you think that we threaten our children’s understanding of what Christmas is about by muddying the water with Santa and commercialism. I mean, I do have a giant white aluminum Christmas tree. Well, my son’s favorite Christmas song is “Happy Birthday, Jesus”. We sing it every night when we light our Advent wreath. And as we decorated the blatantly fake tree, we talked about how we were decorating for Jesus’ birthday party. And who comes to a birthday party without a gift? Not the Phillips family. We’ve even delegated a large portion of the gift giving to the man with the great laugh.

Because if ever a baby deserved a big birthday party with lots of gifts, it is the baby that wrote my name on a mailbox in Heaven.



*This is why we don’t do the Elf on the Shelf. I think the idea of an elf on a shelf is adorable. Just not one that visits Santa each night to report on behavior. I want my kids to associate Santa with radical grace, and a Santa that sends out pint sized hall monitors is not full of grace. Sure, I’d love to shake my finger and say, “You’d better not pout, Jingle the Elf is watching”, but I want my kids to live for God, not Santa. So as a complete sidebar, if you’re having your kids pray to Santa, or place their hopes and dreams in Santa, then that’s a problem too.  Because that IS lying to your kids.