Children observe us more than we realize. They see us rushing through stores, seeing our long to-do lists, and wrapping presents late into the evening. They hear the stress in our voices when another Advent celebration is coming up. They sense our exhaustion as we try to make everything perfect. And they learn. Not from what we tell them about Christmas, but from how we live. The question is: what are they learning from us?
There is a story about the popular Mayor Grünberg, whose birthday was celebrated every year. What started as a small, heartfelt celebration turned into a big City festival. The organization became more and more elaborate, the decorations more magnificent, the food more sumptuous. But then something unbelievable happened: the organizers were so busy with the preparations that they forgot to invite the Mayor himself. They celebrated his birthday without him. Absurd, isn’t it? But isn’t there a danger that our children will observe exactly this happening with us during the Christmas season?
For some people, the most important thing about Christmas is preparing and buying presents, writing wish lists, and getting what they want. What matters to them is how the table is set, how perfect the decorations look and whether everything is flawless. In some families, mom and dad are so stressed because they have so many events to attend, because everything has to be perfect, because expectations are so high and it’s often all about outward appearances.
“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also,” says Jesus (Matthew 6:21). Our children see where our treasure lies. Not in what we read aloud on Christmas Eve, but rather where we invest our time, energy, and money during Advent. They learn our priorities, whether we want them to or not.
What was the story of the first Christmas? Mary and Joseph were far from home, without secure accommodation, dependent on the hospitality of others. “And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7). No cozy nursery, no stockpile of gifts, no festive table. A stable. A manger as a cradle. That is the backdrop to the Christmas story. Without any romance or comfort.
But things got even harder. Shortly after the birth, the young family had to flee. “Arise, take the young Child and His mother, flee to Egypt,” the angel commanded Joseph (Matthew 2:13). Jesus became a refugee child. His family sought asylum in a foreign country, dependent on the people who took them in. Where is the glamour? Where is the luxury? Where is the perfect staging? Nowhere. And yet this is precisely where the greatest treasure in the world lies: God comes to us.
The first to learn of this birth were shepherds. Simple people on the margins of society, not the rich and powerful. “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people.” the angel said to them. Immense joy—not because of magnificent gifts, but because of the presence of God. That is the message of Christmas: God’s wealth is not revealed in outward splendor, but in His love that comes to us. In a child born in poverty, because God is not too proud to become part of our reality.
“In this the love of God was manifested toward us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through Him,” writes John (1 John 4:9). God gives us the most precious thing He has: Himself. Not things, but His heart. And in doing so, He teaches us what really matters. “Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me” (Matthew 25:40). Not consumption, but compassion. Not hoarding but sharing. It is more blessed to give than to receive. says Jesus. That is the Christmas spirit. Do our children experience this?
We are painting the picture of Christmas which our children will take with them from their parents’ home into their own lives. Not by teaching, but by example. It starts with having the courage to simplify. Buying fewer gifts, but more meaningful ones. Spending time together instead of rushing from event to event. When our children see that we can do without things, that we take time for what is essential, they learn more about freedom and priorities than through a thousand sermons.
We can involve others. Invite a lonely person to our home. Together with our children, we can think about who needs our help right now. Not just spending money, but investing time, getting involved in practical ways. “Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another” Paul writes to the Ephesians (4:32). When our children see us opening our home to someone who would otherwise be alone, when they are allowed to help with practical support, when they feel that giving makes us happier than receiving—then they learn the message of Christmas with their hands and feet—and with their hearts.
We can create moments of silence. Don’t pack the Advent season full of activities but leave room to breathe. Read the Christmas story together and talk about it: What does it mean that Jesus was born in a stable? How would we have welcomed Mary and Joseph? Pray together, honestly, and simply. When our children see that we ourselves become silent before God, that this is important to us, it has a greater impact than any words.
We can tell the story. Not just the cute nativity scene with the ox and the donkey, but also about the flight, the poverty, the danger. About a family that risked everything. About a God who does not reside in palaces but is born in a stable. This is not a sentimental story. This is the love of the Bible.
I no longer remember many of the Christmases in my parents’ house. But I will never forget one Christmas Eve when we dispelled the loneliness of a dear elderly grandmother with songs and small gifts. Or when we brought Christmas bags to poor families – and saw the joy on the children’s faces.
What will our children remember later when they think of Christmas at their parents’ house? The expensive gifts will long be forgotten. Will they remember the warmth of genuine fellowship, reading the Christmas story together, the devotional family worship? Will they remember our stress or our joy in the presence of God? Like the organizers of Mayor Grünberg’s celebration, we too can celebrate a magnificent Christmas and forget the one it is all about. Our children will notice.
Let us celebrate Christmas with Christ in the center. Not through outward appearances, but through practical love. Not through many words, but through a true example.
Hermann Vogt
Gifhorn, Germany
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