Why the Body of Christ Is Better than Santa Claus

“Is Santa real?”

At some point, every child asks this question. And it was so much easier for me to answer it when my kids were little. I would just ask them, “What do you think?” and they would respond emphatically, “Yes!” with grins and shining eyes.

But this year, when they ask, I have a different answer—one based on the reality of our lives, one full of truth, one that points to Jesus. I actually can’t wait for them to ask. They are old enough now,  at thirteen, eleven, and eight, to know this story. The magic of Christmas will continue, albeit with a different look, and they will have new reasons to get excited about the birth of Jesus.

This story started three years ago, when my boys were ten, eight, and five. My husband has Crohn’s Disease and took monthly infusions of medication. The disease was controlled for years, but in April 2012, his colon failed and began to die inside him. He was admitted to the hospital, then moved to Dallas for surgery. This was the beginning of what would be a three-year storm for us; surgeries, infections, and long hospital stays presented us with financial challenges that were very difficult to manage. Our church family was such a blessing; they filled our mailbox with notes of encouragement and prayer. My husband’s men’s group met in his hospital room, and I found blank envelopes with gift cards in them during this time. It was beautiful.

So where does Santa fit in here? Why does it matter whether or not he is real? And what am I going to tell my kids when they ask me the inevitable question this year?

I’m going to tell them the truth: that Santa is a nice idea, but it’s Jesus who is real. His Word infuses people with the kind of love in that makes them get up and look for ways to serve others in need. That’s the kind of love the body Christ showed us when their dad was so ill.

My husband’s final hospital stay of 2014 lasted from the first of December through the day before Christmas Eve. I confess I hadn’t given Santa much thought; it was too stressful.  There was no money, only gifts from my mom. My boys would learn the truth about Santa this year; there was no avoiding it. It was sad, but we had the best gift to thank God for: my husband was finally home, finally well, and we would be together for Jesus’ birthday.

What I didn’t know was that throughout the year, the body of Christ was at work. They were there, praying and cooking for me and raking my backyard and carpooling my boys around town. But while they did all that, they were also being undercover elves, finding out the preferences, wishes, and needs of my family.

Shortly after we arrived home on December 23, the doorbell rang. A man from our church stood there, a joyful grin lighting up his face. He asked me if I would step outside for a moment. In the driveway of my neighbor’s home, he opened his trunk. It was filled with colorfully wrapped packages, grocery bags, and foil-trimmed envelopes.

“Merry Christmas!” he exclaimed. The utter joy on his face as he flung his arms wide to emphasize the statement made my eyes fill with tears. I felt like my heart would split open. My neighbor was tearful too. We hugged and prayed, thanking God for the His love and provision through those who had filled the trunk of the car. Then we snuck around, hiding gifts in my garage, grinning like fools.

Later, I sat in my living room with all the lights off, just looking at the Christmas tree as it twinkled. I thanked God over and over for His gifts: health and rest for my husband, childhood magic for our boys, but most important of all, His gift of faithfulness to my worried Momma heart. He had heard my prayers and answered them.

The best part was how He answered. He used His own family to reach out and love on mine. He proved to me that we weren’t forgotten. He touched the hearts of His people, and they responded. [Tweet “The body of Christ is made up of those responsive to the Holy Spirit’s urging to care for others.”] For the broken, the hurting, and those needing a fresh infusion of faith.

This is the story I will tell my boys the next time they ask me about Santa, because the body of Christ was Santa to us that Christmas.

I will tell them about the men and women who knelt in prayer for us, who listened and were obedient for us. I will tell them about the man who joyfully flung open the trunk of his car to reveal gifts more meaningful than he knew.

This story will shape the faith of my boys; it will be one of many I will tell them about God’s faithfulness to our family. I hope it will become a Christmas story tradition someday. I know it will be a seed that God will grow in them so that they will one day be men who embrace the Holy Spirit’s voice and obediently participate in the beautiful work of the body of Christ.

Will you join me in prayer for the entire generation of children who are growing up right now? Let’s pray Ephesians 3 over them all, that they may live to love Jesus the way the witnesses who have gone before us did:

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. (Ephesians 3:14-19 NIV)

Noelle Morin is a bossy, slightly introverted, coffee-addicted, redheaded aspiring writer. Having met Jesus at 31 years old, she is a second chance pro, late bloomer, do-over daughter of God, and she is ever thankful He loved her first. Noelle has been married for 13 years to her husband, whom she met on a blind date. They live in Texas, where she mothers their four boys and works full time as an occupational therapist.