Jesus & Santa

Did you ever hear the one about the fat old man in the red suit who flies around in a magical sleigh pulled by flying reindeer, breaks into people’s homes, eats their cookies, drinks their milk, and leaves presents for their young children? 

At some point, everyone finds out that there is no such thing as Santa Claus (and I’m sorry to those of you whose lives I have just ruined). The fun and make-believe magic of Santa and his reindeer, climbing down chimneys to deliver presents, leaving cookies and milk out by the tree (Santa preferred whiskey at my house for some reason), and all the other fantastical wonders that come from this belief eventually fizzle into a reality where the childhood fairy tale must end. 

All along the way, many of us as parents worry about the possible psychological damage we have caused and the trust we may have destroyed in our relationships with our children. Even though these worries are unfounded and unlikely, we go there sometimes, don't we? Why? I believe it’s because we fear that shattering belief in one thing could somehow shatter the same belief in something else; perhaps something entirely real. This got me thinking about Jesus. 

Did you ever hear the one about the God-baby who was reincarnated in a feeding trough in a barn in Bethlehem, went around healing people,  walked on water, turned other water into wine, died on a cross, and then came back to life three days later all to save the souls of every single human being who will ever exist for the whole of eternity?

One of the things we as parents focus much of our energy in teaching our children is about this practice known as belief. We teach them to believe in Santa, the Easter bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Noah and the ark, fairies and Neverland, the Bible, and, yes, Jesus. In our desperate focus to create imagination in our children, we often and completely accidentally mystify things that are both real and unreal, in the same context, in the same way, and the breakdown of this convoluted world they journey through into adulthood can hinge far too much of the idea of something rather than the sustainability of what that something means. 

Before I go on, let me clarify 2 things: 

(1)    It is perfectly fine and good to make-believe with your children and enhance their imagination. I’m not seeking to shame or discourage this. I couldn’t call myself a creative artist if I didn’t acknowledge and live that. My kids absolutely believe in Santa and they love to pretend that they’re ninjas and fairies and princesses. These are good and fun things to engage with and encourage in the right way. 

(2)    I believe Jesus and His story are real and alive and vital to the souls of my children and the lives I desire for them. Jesus is central to my life and my existence, and I am in no way meaning to diminish or disrespect my faith and those of you who share it with me. 

Let me explain more of what I’m actually suggesting.

When we teach kids about Santa and the Easter Bunny, we are meaning to engage a playful and imaginative side of our children that evokes creativity and imagination and instills in them a sense of fun and adventure. We aren’t attempting to trick them or lie to them or take advantage of their innocence, and I fear often times we may feel this guilt. We build up a lot of credit in these fantasies, and if our kids see everything in the same lens of belief, what is left standing when the walls of imagination fall? 

When we teach our children about Jesus (or whatever faith you may personally subscribe to), it is important to distinguish what we’re telling them by not simply telling stories and demanding the same infantile beliefs that they have in Santa and his elves. We actually need to go beyond belief. They need to see it. They need to hear. They need to experience it. They need to feel it, in a place no fairy tale can inhabit. 

This morning I received a video message from my wife Sarah, who’s out of town preaching at a camp in Minnesota. She said in the video that she had been feeling sick and was hoping we could pray for her to feel better. Immediately, my daughter Lucy looked up at me and said, “We need to pray for mommy right now.” This was a deep instinctive reaction my daughter had because she had experienced and seen the importance and power of prayer. I didn’t mystify the idea of God and prayer to her. In our broken and human way, my wife and I have simply tried to show that our faith is alive and active, not just a belief in something. 

If our children see us pray, if they hear us echo the words of Jesus in moments where humanity fails, if they feel God near them when they are in their rooms and are scared of the dark, and if they actively live out the words of Jesus by loving and being kind to others (while recognizing that these things come from something bigger than themselves or a surface belief in something), these things become part of their lives. They become sustainable pieces of who they are in their deepest places in their most intimate moments. 

Here’s the first of a few terrible example of belief without sustainability- I hate tuna. I despise the very smell of it. But I do believe that tuna exists. I’ve seen it in a can. I’ve watched my cat lap it up. I’ve seen a tuna fish alive at an aquarium. I’ve seen disgusting creations like tuna melts and tuna sandwiches, and I’ve been forced to stomach this abhorrent food on several occasions (that have scarred me for life). Even before I had experienced it directly, I believed it existed because my parents and people around me would talk about it. But I didn’t integrate it into my life. I didn’t make it a habitual practice or a cornerstone to build my character on. I don’t need it, and the belief in it serves no fulfilling purpose. 

Here’s a second terrible analogy- I believe the earth is round. Scientists have proven pretty convincingly that this is true. Astronauts have orbited it. Satellites have taken pictures of it from outer space. I’m pretty convinced, though I’ve never experienced the proof of it with my own eyes. If, in some unlikely scenario, I rocketed myself into outer space and then looked out of my rocket window and saw a flat earth, my belief would be shattered. In spite of years of people telling and showing me otherwise, I could never go back to believing the earth is round.

The points of these two very different and very sub-par examples of belief are this: •    Belief does not equal love for.  •    Belief does not equal personal experience and depth of personal knowledge. 

•    Belief does not equal faith.

If our kids believe in something but never experience the benefits of that belief, what value will it have in their lives? Sure, some beliefs in things that are fiction can be reinforced for short periods of time (i.e.- sitting on Santa’s lap at the mall, finding money under our pillows, etc.). Eventually though, those beliefs are outgrown because they don’t bear lasting fruit. 

However, a faith in a belief is nurtured through observation, habitual practice, and experience. Faith in Jesus becomes real to our children in a way that’s different from Santa once it becomes something they’ve personally experienced, felt, and observed. 

Belief is not enough. It was never supposed to be. 

When the Bible says, “BELIEVE in the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved”, the word “believe” is much deeper than just belief in something. We miss this sometimes. I believe it’s actually an active command that is more closely saying, “Live out your belief through you words, actions, experiences, and faith in a way that reflects the person you follow (Jesus).” 

People believe in tuna. People believe in Santa. People believe the earth is round. 

Belief in Jesus has to mean more.