For many people the Bible is just a bunch of fairy tales cobbled together to give magical credence to a nonexistent being. 

But how many of those same people celebrate Christmas, which contains its own collection of fairy tales cobbled together to give magical credence to a nonexistent Santa Claus and flying reindeer? 

But Christianity has its share of fairy tales too, like Peter at the Pearly Gates ticking off his list of good guys and welcoming them to heaven. And what’s heaven like? More fairy tales about a place where the streets are paved with gold and we swish around on fluffy clouds strumming harps and singing. 

But I’ve done my share of dabbling in fairy tales too. When my daughter was young and we’d travel in the car for hours together, I’d dream up stories about animals and princesses with all sorts of moral platitudes and dreamy scenes that would’ve had Walt Disney taking serious notes if he’d been with us. 

But that’s the real world we live in too, where real princes and princesses “made for each other” marry in fairy tale surroundings, and thousands of people line the streets, cheering, waving and crying as the magical carriage with its prancing horses swoop by. It’s pure theatre on a grand scale, but it’s the stuff of fairy tales and we never seem to tire of it. 

And if someone can spin a good tale, with promises of sunny days and making their country great again, it brings in the adoring crowds too. It’s all myth, of course, because no politician yet has created the fairy tale of our dreams. And the commercials at Christmas time? Brilliantly done, with their warm and fuzzy scenes of family, syrupy platitudes, sentimental oozy music, and happy faces all round. None of it is true to life; it’s just cunningly crafted theatre to sell stuff, but do a fairy tale well and it is irresistible.     

And now we have the latest crop of utopian globalists selling their agenda with fairy tales, seeing ourselves all tucked up safe and secure and not a worry in the world if they own everything and we don’t. It’s just another fluffy world of human imagination playing on our hopes and fears, that like all utopian fantasies fizzle out and fade into obscurity, just like fairy tale princes and princesses grow old, get arthritis and warts, and don’t get a mention in the media anymore.  

So is there anything in this world that isn’t based on fairy tales? Well, how about a book with a chap who says, “To all of you who’ve had your fairy tales shattered and have seen through the myths, come to me, and you will find rest for your souls”? And he meant it as something he can do in real life too, not in our dreams.  

He never gives up, does he? Year after year God patiently works with us so we’re gradually being “conformed to the likeness of his Son,” Romans 8:29, and bit by bit we’re “being transformed into Jesus’ likeness with ever-increasing glory,” 2 Corinthians 3:18. 

That being the case, I wondered what likeness and increasing glory I wish I could experience most. And one thing stood out: the relationship that Jesus has with the Father as his Son. With the added thought that, since it’s Jesus’ likeness we’re being conformed to and transformed into, then it must be possible for us to experience that relationship too. 

And, fortunately, Jesus not only said it was possible, he also explained how it was possible – and that he very much wants to make it possible too “so that the Son may bring glory to the Father,” John 14:13. Everything in Jesus’ life is motivated by that. It’s his great wish, therefore, that we come to that same point too, that we see the Father like he does, and love the Father like he does. 

Which explains why Jesus asked the Father to give us the Holy Spirit (verse 16), because the Spirit “with” and “in” us (verse 17) helps us “learn that I (Jesus) love the Father” (verse 31). It’s the Spirit’s job, then, to get the point across that Jesus has one main goal in all that he does, and that’s to bring glory to his Father because he loves him. But then we find out from Jesus in John 16:15 that the Spirit “takes from what is mine and makes it known to you.” So the Spirit’s job also entails making what motivates Jesus “known” and very real in our lives too. 

Which sets the scene very nicely for the extraordinary statement Paul makes in Romans 8:14 that “those who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God.” So the Spirit makes it real all right, by helping us understand that our relationship with God is exactly the same as the relationship Jesus has with his Father, because like Jesus we are the Father’s children too. So it’s through the Spirit, therefore, that Jesus is making it possible for us to love the Father like he does.

Which Paul confirms in verse 16 when he writes “The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.” For the Spirit, then, this is personal. He personally (“himself”) goes to work in us so we too can love the Father like Jesus does. He “testifies” to it, meaning he’ll prove it true all right.

Ahead of us, then, is another year of the Spirit enabling us to love the Father like Jesus does. And for the same reason too, that we experience the same glory the Father gave Jesus, of being one as they are one (John 17:22).    

And a wonderful future for THIS world too, not leaving this world behind and having a wonderful time in heaven instead. Going to heaven forever isn’t what the Bible promises anyway.

What it does promise is “bringing all things in heaven and on earth together,” Ephesians 1:10. So planet Earth isn’t a bad place we need to escape from. It just needs heaven with it to make it wonderful. Nor do we need to escape our bodies either, as Plato and his ilk suggested, which somehow caught on in the early church and stuck us with the idea of becoming fluffy, disembodied beings somewhere “up” in heaven, rather than living in indestructible and beautifully functioning bodies right here on the Earth. 

Clearly, then, God likes this planet a lot. And he said so too, in Genesis 1:31, when he called it “very good” and he set up home here. At one point in our distant past, therefore, heaven and earth were brought together, and for at least one chapter in Genesis it was wonderful. 

But how do we know it can be that way again? 

Because it’s already happened. There are people who’ve already experienced heaven and earth coming together in their lifetimes. They know what it’s like, therefore, because it happened in them. And the reason it happened is because God planned for some to experience heaven while living in this world now. Not an easy task in this messed up world, but in lessons learned they’d be nicely prepared for teaming up with Jesus for the next step in God’s plan to bring heaven and earth together on this planet on a much grander scale. 

For that purpose, therefore, God opens up “the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing” to those he’s called in advance (Ephesians 1:3-4), so they get a real taste of “the powers of the coming age,” Hebrews 6:5. They know there’s a wonderful world coming, therefore, because they’ve already experienced it. It’s just a taste, but a taste sufficient enough to know the difference heaven makes.

And if it makes that kind of difference in people now, think what difference it will make to the planet when God “brings ALL things in heaven and on earth together.” No wonder Jesus prayed, “Thy kingdom come,” because it’s heaven with it that makes our world wonderful.   

As Christians, that is, what do we do when our leaders are showing clear signs of being delusional sociopaths?

Two examples from Scripture come to mind: the first involving active participation – “doing something about it” – and the second not doing anything, or being passive.  

The active participation example is in Acts 4 when Peter and John came up against the delusional sociopaths of their day, who’d chucked them in jail (verse 3) for talking in public about Jesus. So much for free speech back then too. Instead, censorship and being hauled up before the authorities to answer for their dastardly deed (verses 5-7). 

Which they did. And well too, because it left the authorities without a foot to stand on. They didn’t know what to do (verse 14). So, just like authorities do today they resorted to coercion (verse 18). The response they got from Peter and John, however, was classic: “Judge for yourselves whether it is right in God’s sight to obey you rather than God,” verse 19. 

The authorities desperately wanted to punish them for such outrageous cheek, but scared of a public backlash they issued “further threats” and “let them go” (verse 21). But Peter and John hadn’t finished with these folks yet. They “went back to their own people,” verse 23, “and reported all that the chief priests and elders had said to them.” And this is when their active participation and “doing something” began.  

Because in verse 24, “they raised their voices together in prayer to God” to “consider their threats and enable your servants to speak your word with great boldness,” verse 29. They weren’t hanging around; they went straight to God for the courage to ignore these thugs and not be intimidated. And God responded (verse 31). So in this case it was their active participation that got the problem dealt with.    

In another case of a delusional sociopath, however, there was nothing they needed to do, because God dealt with it himself. And the reason for that is a real shot across the bow for any leader today who thinks and acts like he’s a god. Herod was such a chap, who in response to an adoring crowd in Acts 12:22 shouting “This is the voice of a god, not of a man,” he gave no “praise to God,” so “an angel of the Lord struck him down and he was eaten by worms and died,” verse 23. His was “a sin that leads to death,” 1 John 5:16, that not even prayer can change.   

That’s very different to leaders who are being delusional, haughty and stupid, because that’s just being typically human – and that isn’t a sin unto death. Can we look upon them as fellow humans, then – brothers even – and “pray for them that God will give them life” (verse 16), by waking them out of their stupour, so they promote things right and good and true, rather than opposing them.   

These were Jesus’ last words before he died (Luke 23:46). But he wasn’t the first to say them. He was quoting from Psalm 31:5, written by King David a thousand years earlier. 

So what stirred David to say these words? He explains in verses 9-10. It’s because “I’m in deep, deep trouble. I’ve cried my eyes out; I feel hollow inside. My life leaks away, groan by groan…my troubles have worn me out, turned my bones to powder” (The Message). This was some problem David had. 

So what was it? “To my enemies I’m a monster,” he wrote in verses 11-13. “I’m ridiculed by the neighbours. My friends are horrified, they cross the street to avoid me. They want to blot me from memory, forget me like a corpse in a grave, discard me like a broken dish in the trash. The street-talk gossip has me (classed as) ’criminally insane.’” 

This was the slayer of Goliath reduced to a sobbing wreck by friends and neighbours who were spreading the word that he was insane. And it hurt David to the depths of his being. Like the deep hurt that millions of people experienced during the pandemic, when they too were shamed, shunned and ridiculed by family and friends for not going along with the narrative. 

But Jesus’ family thought he was “out of his mind” too (Mark 3:21). He was even accused of being demonic (Matthew 12:24). Was David in this Psalm, then, expressing what Jesus would be feeling? If so, we get a real insight into the depths of emotion that Jesus felt. We also see how freely he could express his emotions to his Father, and in such human terms too.  

And David didn’t hold back either. In verse 2 he cries out to God, “Get down on my level and listen, and please – no procrastination.” And in verse 17, “Desperate, I throw myself on you. Don’t embarrass me by not showing up.” Such human language with God. But look what happened. In verse 22, David could say, “you heard my cry for mercy when I called to you for help.” And Jesus in his desperation was also “heard” (Hebrews 5:7). It was fine speaking to God that way, then. 

And that made me think about the new year, which is shaping up to be a real doozy. We’ve already witnessed the damage that friends and family can do to each other, so we too are very much in the same world that David and Jesus were in. 

And when desperation set in they both reacted the same way too. To God they both said, “To you I commit my spirit.” In other words, “I belong to you. It’s to you, then, I entrust my sanity. So please don’t embarrass me by not showing up.”    

Was the primary purpose of Jesus’ birth to save the world? 

No, not according to an angel in Matthew 1:21, who told Joseph that Mary would “give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” Not save the world; save his people. His people being? Acts 13:23, “From David’s descendants God has brought to Israel the Saviour Jesus, as he promised.”

Jesus himself said in Matthew 15:24 that “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.” And to his disciples he said, “Do not go among the Gentiles…Go rather to the lost sheep of Israel,” Matthew 10:5-6. 

And one Christmas carol caught that, in its cry O come, O come, Emmanuel to “ransom captive Israel.” The focus isn’t on Jesus coming as Saviour for the whole world, it’s a cry, in the words of the carol, for “the Rod of Jesse” to “free thine own from Satan’s tyranny.” Not free the whole world through the Saviour Jesus, but free Israel through the “Rod of Jesse,” Jesse being King David’s father, and the ancestral lineage that would lead to the birth of Jesus.

But why would the Rod of Jesse freeing Israel be so important? Because it harks back to the prophecy in Isaiah 11:1 that one day a shoot, or stem, would grow from the stump of Israel, and branch out into a tree bearing fruit again. 

It was an amazing prophecy because Israel was down to a mere remnant after the Assyrian hordes had dragged them off as captives into exile. And that’s where they’d remained, in the words of the carol, as “captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here.”

Until, that is, “the Son of God appear” (verse 1 in the carol) to “reach  out his hand a second time to claim the remnant that is left of his people from Assyria” (verse 11 in Isaiah 11).  

It’s a marvellous promise that Israel will be rescued from their exile in a second Exodus. And the carol picks up on that as the reason for Emmanuel coming. Emmanuel, the rod of Jesse, comes first and foremost to free his OWN people, Israel. He’s coming “to thee, O Israel,” to save them, in the words of the carol, “from depths of hell,” and to give them “victory o’er the grave.”

It is the rescue of Israel a “second time” from slavery, therefore, that is the primary focus of Jesus being born. And it’s that story God wants us Gentiles to grasp, because it tells us what we need to know most about him – that he’s utterly faithful to his promises, and he’s forever merciful and kind. 

In the fourth century the introduction of Christmas was meant to make Jesus’ birth relevant to people in that world. The competition was hot, however, because the seven day festival of Saturnalia in late December had been around for a long time, and its festivities were extremely popular. But by absorbing many of its traditions and extending Christmas festivities to twelve days, the Roman church managed to win a lot of people over to Jesus’ birth instead.

It was an odd situation, though, using Saturnalia customs to get the Christmas message across, but that’s always been the challenge for Christians: How do we make Jesus’ birth relevant in the world we’re in?     

How, for instance, is Jesus’ birth meaningful and relevant to people living in a war zone, where missiles are exploding, there’s no power, no water, no facilities for washing, no proper medical help, and life is hell? And how does Jesus’ birth reverberate in the minds of people who’ve been forced by inflation to choose between eat or heat? Or to people fearful of losing their home because they can’t afford the mortgage payments, or to those who fear the repercussions of Covid on their kids and ageing parents. 

And how does Jesus’ birth offer any comfort to those living in regimes that believe medically assisted suicide is a viable substitute for proper care? Or that closing down farms is going to help feed people. Or that climate change necessitates urgent measures that only cause more suffering, not less. Where’s the relevance in Jesus’ birth in all those situations? 

But there is a point of relevance, in that Jesus was born into a world just like ours. Psychopathic leaders, brutal diseases and demonic forces were wrecking the lives of adults and children in his day too. But Jesus arriving as a human on this planet was an eye-opener. He sent demonic forces packing. He brought peace and joy to people with chronic ailments. And those who saw the power he had and turned to him in their desperation, experienced his love and power personally.  

He opened eyes to his relevance all right. And he backed it up with a challenge too, when he said, “Come to me and you will find rest for your souls.” It was brilliant. And so simple. To prove his relevance, all anyone had to do was look to him and trust him, and he would take care of their deepest needs. 

Which makes Jesus’ birth relevant in any age, because the same challenge applies. It could add some much needed relevance to Christmas in our world too. 

The Nativity scene I grew up with was like a typical children’s stage presentation at Christmas time, with Joseph and Mary, the baby in the manger, several shepherds, three wise men, an innkeeper, a donkey, an ox, several sheep, and maybe a few camels and an elephant thrown in. And above the stable would be a star of Bethlehem and maybe an angel or two. Whatever the set up it was pretty packed, but it gave as many children as possible a part to play. 

And it was cute. Halos slipped, kids forgot their parts or wandered round rather aimlessly, and there was always the child who got precariously close to the edge of the stage. And in one case a sheep actually fell off. 

We have St. Francis of Assisi to thank for all these Nativity scenes being played out on stage, because he was the first to stage one. Inspired by a visit to the Holy Land and a trip to Jesus’ traditional birthplace in a Bethlehem cave, he got permission from the residing Pope to set up a Nativity scene on Christmas Eve in a cave near the Italian hilltop town of Greccio in 1223. He made a manger, and brought in hay, a live ox and a donkey. But no Joseph, Mary, baby, shepherds or wise men, though.

According to Francis’ biographer, however, a devout soldier present that evening “affirmed that he beheld an infant marvellously beautiful sleeping in the manger, whom the blessed Father Francis embraced with both his arms, as if he would awake him from sleep.” And a second legend has it that the hay Francis brought in that night not only cured the diseases of any animals that ate it, it also eased the pain in expectant mothers when they placed the hay on themselves.

Needless to say, with legends like that, the Nativity scene took on a life of its own, and over the centuries evolved into the fantasy it is today. And it is fantasy, because in the original story the wise men weren’t there, they arrived some time later, and there’s no mention in Scripture of Jesus being born in a cave or a detached stable, or that a donkey, an ox and sheep were present either. Or an angel.  

Jesus was more likely born in the bottom floor of a home. When Luke talks of “the inn” in Luke 2:7, it’s referring to a guest room in a home, not a hotel. Jewish families had a guest room on the upper floor for travellers, but the guest rooms in town that night were full. There was room on the bottom floor of a home, however, where the animals, if there were any, would be.   

It was a bit of a shock, then, to discover that the Nativity scene I’d grown up with was a later innovation, and it wasn’t an accurate portrayal either.  

The grand old lady of Christmas has had a good run. Ever since she made her grand entrance on December 25th in the year 336, she’s played to rapturous audiences worldwide. And people haven’t stopped raving over her for nearly 1700 years, an amazing record. And she didn’t change the show much along the way either. 

But after all this time, is she beginning to show signs of her age? And are some of her outfits looking a bit dated, like the good old crowd favourites she hauls out every year to get people in the festive spirit again? Is she ageing in a changing world, where cherished traditions nowadays are being viewed as leftovers from a dark and repugnant past?  

Even that lovely name of hers, “Christmas,” is losing its shine. It’s now more politically correct to have a “holiday tree.” And nativity scenes, the very heart and soul of Christmas, are being banned from city property. And the health conscious are having conniptions over Christmas decorations containing harmful substances. It’s a different world.

So how does Christmas survive in such a world? Does it need a makeover, like dated kitchen cupboards? Or does it need a total rethink, this time based purely on Scripture? In Scripture, for instance, the date of Jesus’ birth, and setting aside a day to celebrate his birth, are not mentioned or recommended. But what Scripture does tell us is what Jesus received as gifts, and very specifically too, no guesswork involved. So, what if we focused on the gifts instead? 

He received gold, frankincense and myrrh, an amazingly astute collection of gifts from Persian wise men, because each gift pictured a key role Jesus would play. Myrrh was used for embalming, picturing Jesus’ death to save us; frankincense was used in the temple by the priests, picturing Jesus’ priesthood to nurture us; and gold was the gift for kings, picturing Jesus’ triumphant power over evil for us.  

And that last bit is very much the focus of his birth, as John brings out in 1 John 5:18, that “the one born of God” – Jesus – “keeps us safe, and the evil one does not touch us.” 

That’s not just a “touch up” on Christmas to give it a makeover; it’s getting right at the reality of the world we live in, where evil is real, and if it wasn’t for Jesus being born as our Saviour, High Priest and King, we would have no defence against it.  

For a few hours on Christmas Day it’s forget the world, take it easy, and “eat, drink and be merry.” But is there any biblical support for doing so, and does the phrase even exist in the Bible?    

Yes, it does, at the end of Luke 12:19, in a story Jesus tells of a rich man who’s jolly pleased with himself because he has “plenty of good things laid up for many years.” He’s done well in business, padded his bank account very nicely to the point he can spend money without having to think about it. He can truly tell himself, “Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry.”  

And can he be blamed for thinking that, when “the great words of the Teacher” in Ecclesiastes includes the statement in chapter 8:15, “So I commend the enjoyment of life, because nothing is better under the sun than to eat, drink and be glad.” There’s that phrase again, and again it’s in Scripture, and this time it’s being encouraged too.  

The great Greek philosopher, Epicurus (Epi-cue-rus), also encouraged it. He believed from his own observation that happiness for us humans is tied in with savouring life and enjoying pleasurable activities, no matter how small. And rather than fretting about the future and long term goals, just enjoy life as it comes.  

In modern terms it’s called hedonism, which gets its share of bad press nowadays, because it pictures rich globalists jetting round the world eating and drinking and being merry, having “laid up for themselves” oodles of money at others’ expense, and they get away with their selfishness and greed – because they can. Which is exactly the kind of chap Jesus was talking about back in Luke 12, to press the point home that “a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions,” verse 15.  

So there’s a bad side to “Let’s eat, drink, and be merry,” when it’s “So long as I’m enjoying myself and getting the things I want, who cares about the cost to others?” But there’s a good side too, when taking into account Jesus’ statement in John 10:10, that he came so we “may have life and live it to the full.” Isn’t that a potent nod to pleasure and happiness being a good thing? 

Yes, but as Shakespeare wrote in Othello, Act 2, Scene 3: “Good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used.” So, yes, enjoy the beautiful and “familiar” pleasures that life has to offer, and with total scriptural backing too, because in Ecclesiastes 2:24, “A man can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in his work. This too is from the hand of God.” 

But “if it’s to be well used” there’s verse 25 too, “for without God who can eat or find enjoyment?” That’s what makes “eating, drinking and being merry” truly biblical, knowing God is in on our enjoyment too.