Christmas is upon us again—the season of twinkling lights, cheerful songs, endless shopping, and, yes, Santa with his elves performing acrobatics on our bookshelves. The world, predictably, is consumed with the “season” itself, offering little more than cheap sentiment wrapped in tinsel and marketed as meaning. It’s all a colossal distraction—lulling millions into a superficial celebration devoid of substance.
But let’s not get too smug, brethren, because even within the Church, the temptation to sentimentalize Christmas is alive and well. We exchange gifts, gather with family, and toss out vague notions of “goodwill toward men,” patting ourselves on the back for embracing the “Christmas spirit”—whatever that hollow phrase means. And while these things might have their place, they often drown out the one thing that actually matters: the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Even worse, some of us, though well-meaning, will retreat from the glittering chaos of the season only to focus entirely on the incarnation. We’ll zero in on the manger scene, marvel at the virgin birth, and recount the angelic announcement to the shepherds.
We’ll swoon over “baby Jesus” in swaddling cloths, as though this single snapshot in history captures the totality of God’s redemptive work. But is that all Christmas is? A nativity tableau to warm our hearts and inspire a few carols? What a shallow view of such a monumental event.
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I certainly do not mean to downplay the incarnation. It is nothing short of a miracle. That the eternal Son of God took on flesh, entering His own creation as a child, is beyond human comprehension. But if we camp out at the manger, marveling at the “holy infant” without moving forward to Calvary’s cross, we miss the point entirely. The incarnation alone is not the gospel. It is the beginning of the gospel.
The manger itself was never the goal—it was the means. The Son of God was born into this world not so we could gush over the quaintness of the scene, but so He could die for sinners like us. The infant in Mary’s arms was destined for the cross and the cries of a newborn in Bethlehem foreshadowed the anguished cry of the Savior on Golgotha: “It is finished.”
Do we understand what that means? Finished. Complete. The incarnation, magnificent as it is, cannot save you. The gospel does.
And what is the gospel? It is not a sweet story about a baby born to a virgin. It is the declaration that Jesus Christ, fully God and fully man, lived a sinless life, bore the wrath of God on the cross for our sins, died, was buried, and rose again on the third day, securing eternal life for all who believe in Him. It is His death, burial, resurrection, and ascension that accomplished our salvation—not just His birth.
So why do we stop short? Why do we treat the incarnation as though it’s an end in itself? Perhaps it’s easier. After all, the baby in the manger doesn’t demand repentance. The shepherds and wise men don’t confront us with our sin. But the risen Christ does. The gospel does. And perhaps, deep down, some don’t want to hear it.
But we cannot separate the incarnation from the gospel. To do so is like marveling at the foundation of a house without considering the structure built upon it. The Old Testament prophecies that foretold His birth were not random predictions or even educated guesses—they were divine decrees pointing toward the ultimate fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan.
“The virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call His name Immanuel” (Isaiah 7:14). Why? Because God’s presence with us was necessary to reconcile us to Himself. The incarnation was the divine invasion—a rescue mission for a world enslaved to sin.
Yet, the mission wasn’t complete in Bethlehem. The baby in the manger grew up. He lived the perfect, obedient life we could never live. He took on the penalty of sin we deserved. He rose in victory over death. And He ascended to the right hand of the Father, where He reigns even now. This is the full story of Christmas. Anything less is a betrayal of the truth.
So, I ask you—what are we celebrating? Are we content to admire the wrapping paper while ignoring the gift? Do we embrace the sentimental image of the Christ child while neglecting the Savior who said, “Repent and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:15)? How absurd, how tragic, to focus on the means while disregarding the end.
Christmas should not merely point us to Bethlehem, it should drive us to Calvary, to the empty tomb, and to the throne of Heaven. The gospel is the culmination of what began in the incarnation. Without it, the virgin birth is just an intriguing miracle, the manger is just a rustic crib, and Christmas is just another day off work.
So let the world have its glitter and Santa and syrupy songs about chestnuts and snowmen. But let the Church cling to the gospel. Let us see the incarnation for what it is—a stunning act of God’s grace that finds its fulfillment in the life, death, resurrection, and reign of Jesus Christ. Anything less is an empty celebration, and we, above all, should know better.