Despite the many “feel-good”—and “feel-crappy”—movies and TV shows out there with a holiday theme, Christmas is not about families (or anti-depressant medication).
Despite the numerous sightings in stores and malls, Christmas is not about Santa, or even children, as noble and sweet as that sentiment sounds.
Despite the Obamas’ introduction to the 50th airing of Charlie Brown Christmas special (one of the very few shows that blatantly states what Christmas is about), Christmas is not about “tiny trees” that “need a little love.”
It’s also not about getting the best deal-of-the-year on TVs, cars, movie tie-ins, clothes, furniture, or bacon flavored anything.
It’s not even entirely about a tiny baby born in Bethlehem, although that’s the start.
(Four years ago my ninth–and last–baby was born. I staged this photo of him with #7 and #8 children. This became our Christmas card that year, my favorite one so far.)
Christmas is about Christ, about his inauspicious birth in a cave, about his utterly selfless life and example which culminated in his laying down his life for his friends—us—and then his astonishing resurrection three days later. 
Christmas—along with Easter—is a reminder that death is temporary, and that life can be eternal.
It’s a reminder that our big brother Jesus Christ understands our pain, our struggles, and our despondency because he also experienced it all so that he would know how to comfort us. 
It’s a reminder that he took upon us all of our sins, and that if we do our part and repent, he can do so much more for us; he can take away our sin and leave us clean and new and whole again. Mentally, spiritually, and physically.
It’s a reminder that we can be renewed, and that every person who ever walked the earth will one day be resurrected with a glorified, perfected body, and that all pain will be taken away and replaced with such joy that we mere mortals can never imagine.
It’s about granting us the ultimate desire people have dreamed of since the dawn of time: immortality.
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