The Heart Behind Our Holiday Traditions
When I think of the quintessential Christmas morning, my imagination jumps to the opening scenes of Little Women (1994). I can close my eyes and just feel the warmth of that morning in Orchard House, despite the feet of snow outside. A simple garland hangs on the banister. Meg and Hannah prepare a big breakfast feast of sausage and homemade bread. Beth plunks out Christmas songs on the family piano, while Jo complains about the noise and Amy wraps her hands around an orange—a delicacy for their struggling family during wartime. Then, in the true spirit of the generous March family, they come together to the table to begin their feast and instead recall a family in greater need than their own. At the pinnacle of Christmas morning, the four sisters decide to pack up their breakfast and give it away instead.
There’s something so beautiful about that moment that makes my heart swell. Their selfless love, so tangibly portrayed, captures my heart each time I see it, and I think to myself, “That is the type of family of love, warmth, and fierce convictions that I want to cultivate. Those are the kinds of traditions I want to pass on.”
To the core, I’m an idealist. My problem when I approach holidays is that I want to ooze out every bit of passion in my body to make the moments so special, with significant eternal impact for my family. Starting in October, anxiety creeps up in my heart as I think about our Thanksgiving and Christmas plans. Before I know it, my idealism kicks into overdrive and I begin to put too much pressure on our calendar, budget, and people in my family. It’s as if I believe this one holiday season determines my family’s health, happiness, and love of the gospel for all time.
Whew! That’s a lot of expectation squeezed into a few short weeks of the year. Ten years into motherhood now, I’ve realized that it's simply not sustainable or enjoyable for me, or those around me. Along the way, I have learned a few things that have served to anchor my recovering holiday idealist heart:
1. Traditions don’t define our worth as Christian mothers.
Participating in particular holiday traditions is not a matter of gospel-faithfulness. The Bible does not prescribe one specific way that followers of Christ must celebrate holidays. It does encourage us to regularly mark moments the Lord was at work—remembering him and worshiping him—and to pass these stories of God’s work of redemption onto the next generation.[1] What and how we choose to celebrate, though, is a place of personal freedom and conscience for Christian mothers.
So, if you’re tempted to look to social media or the aisles of Target to evaluate if you’re doing a “good-enough” job this Christmas, you can breathe in a sigh of relief: the way you celebrate Christmas does not affect your standing before the Lord or your family. You have freedom in Christ to be you and set the culture of your home in accordance to the way God has wired you uniquely.
2. Traditions can be gospel opportunities.
When I reflect on Christmas Eve from my childhood, I am taken to memories of singing “Joy to the World” by candlelight outside of my grandparents’ church and then going back to their home for a big family dinner. Memories like these can anchor us into adulthood, providing healthy roots for us to grow, learn what love feels like, and derive stability. They reinforce our sense of belonging and create a rich family culture.
Traditions can also help us reflect God’s attentive, loving character to our children. They require extra effort and planning. However, in our attention to these little things, we can show our children that we see them and want to carefully cultivate fun and lasting memories for them.
Most importantly, though, traditions can serve a greater purpose of passing on the gospel to our children. As we ride around looking at Christmas lights, we can declare aloud in the minivan, “The Light of the World has come into this world of darkness to save us from our sin!” Or, we can gather around the piano and get a lump in our throat hearing our five-year-old sing, “Mild he lays his glory by, born that man no more may die.” From Advent readings to sugar cookies, traditions can help capture moments and point our hearts back to Christ.
3. Traditions are a gracious invitation to grow in holiness.
Even with the purest of motives to plan a beautiful and meaningful holiday season, we can suddenly be derailed by the plans not going as we hoped. All of a sudden, we indulge our sin– lashing out in anger or withdrawing with ice-cold hearts. We can leave our families with bitter tastes in their mouths, shuddering to think about trying to do it again next year.
A good thing (beautiful holiday traditions) done in the wrong way (with outbursts of sin, pressure for our family to perform to a certain standard, etc.) becomes the wrong thing.
Instead, let’s see these moments as what they truly are: the Lord’s gracious invitation for us to grow in holiness.
What could this look like?
Living in the freedom of the gospel to scrap the holiday tradition we planned because our family just needs to rest instead.
Patiently forbearing with kids who don't seem to value our efforts to create a beautiful moment for them—because God in Christ patiently forbears with us.
Not returning evil for evil when a harsh word is spoken while trimming the tree but instead choosing to extend grace to those who sin against us.
Looking to Christ for forgiveness when we fail and seeking forgiveness from our family members.
4. Traditions will never ultimately satisfy us.
We all know the feeling on December 26 when we look around, a bit dazed from the mess of the day before, and think, “Is it really over?”
As a recovering holiday idealist, I still really love traditions and spend significant time planning our Christmas season. But at the end of the day, even the most delicious homemade cinnamon roll or rich Advent devotional around the fire with our family will leave us empty and hungry for more. Our traditions must be in their proper place—under the surpassing worth of Jesus Christ. They can serve to point our hearts to him, but they are not ultimate. We can plan and cultivate beautiful moments, but we do so with open and thankful hands, surrendering them to him. We keep Christ as our greatest treasure.
These tables, full of our dearest family and friends, as Jonathan Edwards famously said, are “but shadows, but the enjoyment of God is the substance.”
The Jesse Tree and the Advent calendar are “scattered beams; but God is the sun.”
The Christmas pajamas, favorite nativity scene, or decorated gingerbread houses are “but drops, but God is the ocean.”[2]
So as we prayerfully plan our family’s holiday traditions this year, and for years to come, let’s remember where true joy and happiness lie. Though these memories may be sweet, they are drops in comparison to the sweetness of fellowship we get to experience now with the Lord and one day, more fully, with him in eternity.
[1] Exodus 12:14; Joshua 4; Psalm 78:4; Mark 14:9; 1 Corinthians 11:25. For additional reading on this topic, see https://www.risenmotherhood.com/articles/gospel-thinking-how-do-we-decide-our-family-traditions?
[2] Jonathan Edwards, The Works of Jonathan Edwards, Vol. 17: Sermons and Discourses, 1730-1733(New Haven, CT: Yale University Press), 437–438.
