For much of the early 2000s, I was one of Santa’s most hardcore believers. When the landscape around me shifted from the ABCs to awakened adolescence, I stood still. I remained convinced that Christmas was about Jesus, sure, but what made it fun was Santa Claus.

As an adult, I see a zillion reasons why my little mind wanted to hold on; why I pretended Santa was real for a full two years after I learned the truth. Growing up felt scary, and just like we all do at times: I opted to feign ignorance rather than facing fear.

Human Tendency is to Defend What We Know

We humans love clinging to what we know. It’s in our nature. Even those of us who prefer spontaneity and newness do so because the unpredictable is, in effect, predictable. This tendency, and its cousin, confirmation bias, crops up in all areas of life. You can see it in everything from relationship dynamics (“my family did it this way, so of course it’s the right way”) to politics (ignoring any negative media coverage of your favorite politician). Stubborn defense of what we know makes the world easier for us to interpret; it services our fragile self-esteem. But as I’ve come to learn, there’s always a crack in its mental fortress.

“Stubborn defense of what we know makes the world easier for us to interpret; it services our fragile self-esteem.”

For two full years, I found ample evidence in defense of Santa Claus—the gift-delivery wasn’t meant to be explained, the toy-making was specialized over millennia, Santa had lots of help. Ultimately though, my mind awakened to the true reason for self-deception: I didn’t know if I could be happy giving up the focus on Santa (over a focus on God).

I was raised in the church. I knew the true meaning of Christmas and spent the Advent season studying it. But it was impossible to hold to as a kid who hadn’t yet truly walked in a relationship with Christ.

I did know that time was my enemy though. It moved too fast and, by the time I was twelve (nearly thirteen), I knew I couldn’t remain oblivious. So I made myself a deal: I would spend the upcoming holiday season soaking in all the transactional, seasonal, festive, commercialization of Christmas. I’d go all in to find out if that actually made me happy.

Was Christmas magical enough with just the things?

The Christmas Experiment

That Christmas was as spirited as I could muster. As I discovered, the silver lining to my parents’ recent divorce was that I had twice the opportunities for Christmas merriment—two trees, two houses to decorate, etc. It sounds bleak, but I did take advantage of it. After I decorated with my dad at his place, I single-handedly decorated the outside of my mom’s house—she confessed she couldn’t do it that year. Then I spent every minute listening to Christmas music and scrambling for memory-making moments with my dad. I crafted a color-coded Christmas list, found perfect gifts for my family, and fantasized over opening my dream gifts.

When the big day arrived, I let sugar and adrenaline carry me along. For a while, it did. But before I knew it, the tree lights were glistening in the dark and I was falling asleep. How had gone by so quickly? When I surveyed my pile of gifts, I felt like a brat. No, I didn’t get everything I wanted, but I received a lot. It didn’t feel like enough though… and I knew that in a few weeks, the new possessions would lose their luster.

After a few days of continued-celebrations, I couldn’t avoid it anymore: I officially had nothing to look forward to. What’s more, I was no happier than I’d been beforehand. If anything, I was more sad. More lonely.

Slowing Down & Showing Up

I don’t recommend you dive all-in to a consumeristic Christmas. It is, however, what my twelve-year-old mind hoped would fix the emptiness I felt inside. Turns out, Santa wasn’t real and neither was the fake joy of getting more stuff. I had tried to (literally) buy into the package of Christmas, and it hadn’t worked.

It took years for me to actually grow and heal enough to see why I wasn’t happy that Christmas. For a long while, I conflated it with the pains of growing up. In actuality, I had embraced the world’s idea of celebration: Celebrate to fill yourself of any void you feel. What the Lord has shown me in recent years, however, is that genuine, joyful celebration is born from fullness. It is a recognition that, though life isn’t perfect, we are satisfied in Christ alone.

This is why I love Christmas. It’s recognition of what Christ began—coming to earth—but also what He is doing everyday: Creating life and filling our brokenness. Praise to Him that we are able to enjoy time with loved ones, share love in the form of gifts, and slow down to reflect on our lives.

I encourage you to join me in slowing down this season—sitting by the tree with your Bible, giving to someone who may not expect a present, sing some carols off-key. God is good; this is a marvelous time of year to declare that in how we, as Christians, show up in this world.

Love,

Hannah