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There’s something abouth Christmas that changes me somehow. No matter how hard-hearted and selfish I’ve been, how many lame Christmas gifts, or how long it’s been since I cracked open a Bible, or prayed for anyone, God reaches down into me at the very last moment and brings to light the very meaning of Christmas. Not that sanitary “be good to people and give them things” mentality that seems to be the message of nearly all Christmas movies these days, but that overarching epiphany that encompases the scope of my entire life, and that envelops all of human history simultaneously.
It’s the epiphany of the birth of Christ, at once the savior of the world, and the one sign, the only sign, that God gave to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loves me. At once I see his birth, his life, and his death wrapped up in one neat little package, tied with a bow of pain, sorrow, and hope that set me free from the dark-hearted nature that I have inherited.
I have been very callous with people lately, and it took a couple of blows of good holiday cheer to soften my heart up a bit. It took a good sledgehammer’s worth to even get my attention, as I suddenly realized that all the things that annoy me about Christmas only annoyed me because they were things that I desperately needed to hear.