Each year, “Merry Christmas” is spoken more cautiously, if it is spoken at all. In its place, “Happy Holidays” has become the safer greeting, offered under the banner of politeness, neutrality, and inclusiveness. Just last week, after wishing a gentleman “Merry Christmas” over the phone, he replied with a carefully neutral “Happy Holidays.” These exchanges reveal a quiet instinct to smooth every edge, to avoid particularity, to keep the conversation agreeable. What is often framed as kindness or consideration exposes something deeper, an uneasiness with naming Christ plainly, which in itself reveals how lightly He is held. The concern is not whether Christ might be diminished, but whether anyone else might be displeased. Fear of man, rather than reverence for Christ, quietly governs the exchange. Yet Christmas does not belong to the realm of neutrality. It has never been a shared cultural canvas onto which everyone paints their own meaning. Christmas is anchored to a particular person, at a particular moment in history, for a particular purpose. When Christ is removed, Christmas does not expand, it empties. What remains may still be festive, but it is no longer Christian.
To understand why Christmas can never be neutral, we must return our attention to Christ Himself, to who He is, why He came, and what God has given us in Him.
For the Christian, Christmas has always been about Christ alone. It is centered on His person and His work, His preexistence, His love, His coming from heaven, His humility, His obedience, His kingship, His poverty that we might become rich. It is about eternal life, true joy, lasting peace, comfort in suffering, light in darkness, and hope for the hopeless. As my favorite line in the Valley of Vision by Arthur Bennett poem “The Gift of Gifts” states, “In Him, Thou has given us so much that heaven itself can give no more.”
Christmas is a time to refocus our gaze and look again to Him. We look to His abandonment of heaven, not as loss, but as condescension. We look to the poverty He willingly assumed in a manger. We consider the manner of His coming, silent by night, unnoticed by the world yet announced by angels to shepherds. We marvel at His weakness and dependence upon the Father as a child, at the humility of the Incarnation, and at the sacrifice that this humble entrance into the world would ultimately demand. The wonder of Christmas is not sentiment or nostalgia. It is Christ in our world.
Yet today, Christ is deliberately pushed to the margins of Christmas, and increasingly of public life altogether, as media, education, and entertainment condition our culture to view His presence as inappropriate and offensive to a redefined, secular celebration. What is happening is not neutral. It is not accidental. It is a crucifixion by exclusion. And as with the first crucifixion, there are different eyes watching.
The first set of eyes are devastated. These eyes are fixed on Christ and cannot look away. They grieve as they see their Savior and King being crucified once more anew, accused of causing division, hatred, and harm in our generation. They know Him to be innocent of these charges. He who came to reconcile man to God and men to one another is now portrayed as the source of conflict. To these eyes, removing Christ from Christmas feels like watching goodness itself being nailed to the cross again. They cannot be indifferent, because Christ is the center of their joy, their hope, and their worship. Christmas without Him is not Christmas at all.
The second set of eyes looks on with approval. These eyes nod and applaud. They believe that true happiness, peace, and unity can only come if Christ is absent. His teaching is unwanted. His authority is rejected. His claim over how we live is resented. They see Him as a disruptor, one who stirs the crowds and exposes hearts. If He is removed, they believe we can finally live as we please, governed by our own laws and rulers. To these eyes, His crucifixion from Christmas is a cause for celebration. Their joy is not quiet. It is relieved, even triumphant.
Then there is the third set of eyes, the largest of all. These eyes are indifferent. They neither grieve nor celebrate. They simply pass by. They continue making holiday plans, shopping lists, and schedules. They refuse to stand publicly with either side. They walk past the crucifixion every day and feel nothing. Some have opinions they never voice, others simply do not care. There is a big sale this weekend at their favorite outlet mall, and their attention quickly shifts back to anticipation of comfort, convenience, and consumption. They pride themselves on non-involvement, mistaking silence for neutrality. Yet indifference is not innocence. Silence is a position.
Is the removal of Christ from Christmas a crime? The answer depends entirely on how much one values Him. If Christ is the center of your Christmas, His absence is impossible to ignore. Someone essential is missing. But if He is not the center, His absence brings little disturbance, perhaps even relief. For some, it feels like someone has finally extinguished an irritating light that exposed too much and demanded too much.
For the believer, Christmas is a confession. It is a declaration that we need no more of this world, but more of Him. Our greatest needs have already been met in Christ. He supplies all that we lack. He is not an accessory to the season. He is the season.
If unbelievers choose to participate in Christmas, they cannot celebrate Christ, because their hearts do not value Him for who He is. And that honesty should be acknowledged as they celebrate the holiday itself and its traditions and emblems. However, genuine Christmas is not merchandise-centered or desire-centered. It is not about memories constructed around getting what we want. It is about God’s great gift, not Santa’s illusion. It is about the all-seeing, all-caring eye of God, not a mythical substitute who rewards behavior and disappears when inconvenient.
Christmas confronts us with Christ. And Christ never leaves us neutral. We either behold Him with love, reject Him with hostility, or pass Him by with indifference. But every pair of eyes must answer the same question: What will you do with Christ?
Because Christmas without Christ is not merely a cultural shift. It is a verdict on the heart.
O SOURCE OF ALL GOOD,
What shall I render to Thee for the gift of gifts?
Thine own dear Son, begotten, not created,
My Redeemer, Proxy, Surety, Substitute,
His self-emptying incomprehensible,
His infinity of love beyond the heart’s grasp.
Herein is wonder of wonders:
He came below to raise me above,
He was born like me that I might become like Him.
Herein is love;
when I cannot rise to Him He draws near on wings of grace,
to raise me to Himself.
Herein is power;
when Deity and humanity were infinitely apart
He united them in indissoluble unity, the uncreated and the created.
Herein is wisdom;
when I was undone, with no will to return to Him,
and no intellect to devise recovery,
He came, God-incarnate, to save me to the uttermost,
as man to die my death,
to shed satisfying blood on my behalf,
to work out a perfect righteousness for me.
O God, take me in spirit to the watchful shepherds,
and enlarge my mind;
let me hear good tidings of great joy,
and hearing, believe, rejoice, praise, adore,
my conscience bathed in an ocean of repose,
my eyes uplifted to a reconciled Father,
place me with ox, ass, camel, goat,
to look with them upon my Redeemer’s face,
and in Him account myself delivered from sin;
let me with Simeon clasp the new-born Child to my heart,
embrace Him with undying faith,
exulting that He is mine and I am His.
In Him Thou hast given me so much that heaven can give no more.
– Arthur Bennett, Valley of Vision, The Gift of Gifts
