I read a newspaper article last week about a couple who had decided to ‘cut down’ on presents this year and set a budget of £600 for each of their two children. However, they have already gone over it, and that’s just on toys – they hadn’t even started buying clothes yet. And that’s for one child aged three, and another who’s only ten months! Yet it’s a story that could be repeated up and down the country. The couple were included as an example of ‘generous’ givers, but that’s not quite the word I’d use to describe it.
My problem is not so much with the ‘commercialisation of Christmas’, or even a desire for people to remember the ‘reason for the season’. As Sunday Times bestselling author Mark Forsyth writes in a book about the origins of Christmas traditions: ‘Once upon a time, there was no such thing as Christmas. And then Jesus was born in Bethlehem, and after that there was still no such thing as Christmas. For hundreds of years’. The Bible doesn’t tell us to commemorate Jesus’ birth, and the idea of doing so didn’t occur to Christians for hundreds of years after the event.
My concern however is that what we do at Christmas often shows what really matters to us. So we buy a lot of stuff for our kids because, as adults, we get our identity from what we have. We get them the latest iPhone, the latest ‘in’ toy, the latest fashion accessory. Are any of these things wrong in themselves? Not at all. But in bestowing them on our children repeatedly, we confirm to them the lie that their identity is found in stuff. And then we wonder why they grow up insecure in who they are in themselves – and easily become victims of social media anxiety. When actually it’s largely because we have trained them to measure their worth by what they’ve got and how they compare to others. And even though we have always got them the latest, the newest, the best – we still wonder why they grow up with a sense of entitlement!
Or we use stuff to compensate for what they really need and want – our attention and affection. We’ve been working too hard, we know they haven’t seen much of us, but here have the latest doll/iPad/flatscreen TV to see how much I love you. And we try to buy our way into their hearts.
I’m currently reading a book by a pastor who says he’s amazed at the number of adults he comes across who still struggle in life because they could never get their mums or dads to say ‘I love you and am so pleased with you’. It turns out that it’s much easier to buy children stuff than spend time with them or say those simple words.
But do our children really think they can be bought with shiny things? As the years pass they learn to measure their love by what they’re given. And then we wonder why they grow up to see love as some sort of contractual arrangement – ‘If you love me, you will do this/give me this’.
These are not small matters. They are foundational to shaping and framing our children’s identity. And their identity will shape how they see life, how they respond to trials, disappointments and loss. What we do in December shapes them for January to November. And then repeat.
If all year we worship money and belongings, why stop at Christmas to remember Jesus? We have already chosen our saviour—the one who loves us, supplies what we need, brings us joy, secures our future, defines who we are. ‘Behold you shall call his name Stuff, for he shall save his people from their griefs’.
Except that it doesn’t. Simply having more stuff doesn’t bring happiness. The maddening pursuit of possessions will not save us, but starve us – leaving us at the whim of every upgrade, and every recession. In teaching our children to hang their identity on what they have we set them up for a crashing fall. Only God is a strong enough hook to hang our identity, future and joy on. There is more to life than stuff. We are made to be more than consumers. But the lessons start well before Christmas.
To be published in the Stranraer and Wigtownshire, 24th December 2019. Based on a similar article a few years ago by Mark Loughridge