What Christmas means to me

I was about 6 or 7 when I finally figured out that it was my mom (yes, my mom - not my dad or Father Christmas, as we called Santa - who put the presents under the Christmas tree.) I told my mom and she fessed up and then insisted that I not tell my little sister.

But Father Christmas was never the center of the celebration in our family. That was always the baby Jesus. Maybe I didn't completely understand what my mom's words about Jesus signified but I definitely understood her meaning (and the spirit of her words as they gently touched my soul) when she told me that Jesus is pure love and that He had been born a simple human being because of His love for us.

Perhaps at that time, Jesus' love just seemed to me to be something similar to my mother's love for me: safety, comfort and happiness. It was a warm and tender love.

The other more serious aspect of Jesus' love of course is the sacrifice of His life - also out of infinite love. All I can say is that, even though I am not a theologically correct Christian, I am happy to think of myself as a believer in Christ.

Maybe I don't believe everything that a Christian is supposed to believe in but one thing that I do know as sure as anything is that Jesus did die for my sins. His sacrifice showed me what a human being is meant to be - not a demon-worshiping barbarian but an angelic being made in the image of God's infinite love.

And, once you know that that's what a human being is, well then to me there is no excuse for not being as perfect as any mortal can try to be. Jesus saved me by showing me what it means to be human and He has invited me to live in eternal joy and love with Him through his sacrifice.

But I won't dwell on that now. Christmas is about the baby Jesus, about birth and joy not about the hard cold and terrible fact of the adult Jesus' ultimate sacrifice - which is the foundation of all that is perfect in an imperfect human world.