When most folks think of Christmas,
They think of fun and glee.
They think of laughing children,
Wrapped presents under a tree.
They think of hams and turkeys,
And Christmas lunch they’ll share.
They think of friends and family,
The loved ones that aren’t there.
But what about the reason,
The reason for their fun?
Do they think of Bethlehem?
And God’s one and only son?
Do they recall the stable?
Where the babe was born?
Do they recall the guiding star?
The wise men by it drawn?
And what about the angels
The shepherds that they told,
About the child that was born,
To fulfil the prophecies of old.
Or that the family had to flee,
To Egypt at great haste,
Or of the mothers’ weeping hearts,
For children that lay waste.
No, they mostly think of Santa Clause,
Of elves and sleighs and toys,
Of Christmas trees and candy canes,
Of gifts for girls and boys.
We’ve forgotten of the reason,
That Christmas came about,
Why we sing the carols,
Why candles they come out.
We’ve forgotten our Heavenly Father,
That with love, his son he sent,
To save us all from sin and shame,
If we — would but repent.
© Gary Ivin.