In Scripture, laments are raw expressions of grief, but they always point to hope. What if our culture’s obsession with holiday lights is an unconscious way of crying out, “We need good news, and we need it now”?
Call me Mr. Grinch all you want, but November is simply too soon for putting up Christmas decorations. But every year, the day after Thanksgiving, my family talks me into draping lights across the house like we got hit by a Hallmark movie tornado.
But the twinkly November defiance doesn’t catch me off guard anymore — I’ve come to expect it. I get a kick out of barking, “no Christmas music yet!” in the car as we cruise around town running errands. (I’m not so sure they’re as amused as I am.) After all these years, it’s become a bit of an act. They start dropping hints that it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas just days after Halloween, and I respond with all the bluster of a low-budget Scrooge. Meanwhile, a familiar feeling of dread creeps in as I remember — once again — that I have no idea where the Christmas lights are buried in the garage
Why is it that everyone (except for me) seems so eager to rush into Christmas? Is it just that marketing starts earlier every year, or is there something deeper going on
Why Santa’s Been Showing Up Since Halloween
Let’s start with the obvious: The Christmas industrial complex. Does it surprise anyone anymore that the time Halloween rolls around, stores are already swapping out skeletons for Santas? You know, we’ve got to “shop early” and cash in on all those sweet deals they say. This isn’t new. Even in A Charlie Brown Christmas from 1965 (my personal favorite holiday movie that I’ve written about here), Lucy calls out the “big commercial racket” behind Christmas. And she’s not wrong — holiday consumerism is worth billions globally, and retailers have a vested interest to milk the season for all it’s worth
But we can’t just blame the marketing machine. We’re all kind of complicit, aren’t we? I hate to admit it, but I know the holiday pump has been primed as soon as “All I Want for Christmas Is You” gets stuck in my head sometime in November. It’s my internal cue to start buying up scented candles, the inflatable Santas, and the novelty sweaters because, well, we like the way they make us feel — festive, warm, nostalgic. Marketing doesn’t work unless we want it to.
But maybe it’s not just the marketers pulling the strings. Maybe we’re looking for something they can’t sell us. While the garland and glitter seem harmless, they point to a deeper longing. After all, the world we’re living in isn’t exactly a snow globe of cheer.
The Headlines Never Stop, But We Need Good News
We live in exhausting times and the headlines never stop. Since the dawn of cable news, bad news has been piped into our homes 24/7, keeping us locked in a cycle of crisis. And now, with social media, it’s even worse. Algorithms know that fear and outrage keep us scrolling, so they serve us endless doses of both. Before the days of 24-hour news cycles, a disturbing headline had a shelf life — you could watch the evening news, read the daily paper, and then line your parakeet’s birdcage with it at the end of the day. But now, bad news follows us everywhere, filling our feeds, pinging our phones like pocket-sized harbingers of doom, and whispering, “Things are getting worse and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
What if our eagerness to dive into Christmas earlier each year is less about rushing and more about reclaiming joy in the middle of chaos?
Is it any wonder we cling to wherever we can find hope? Christmas — the lights, the music, the decorations — feels like an escape hatch from the doom and gloom of the world. Stringing up lights in November isn’t just about feeling festive; it’s a way of saying, “Enough.” It’s a rebellious kick against the darkness, a refusal to let the news cycle steal our joy. What if our eagerness to dive into Christmas earlier each year is less about rushing and more about reclaiming joy in the middle of chaos?
Consider the holiday classic, It’s a Wonderful Life. The movie’s protagonist George Bailey is plunged into despair, as he witnesses the bleak consequences of a world without him in it. It’s only through a moment of grace — and a community of people who care for him — that George can see hope again. The story doesn’t end with him solving all his problems but with him discovering he’s loved. The setting for that epiphany? A brightly lit Christmas scene.
It’s not just bad headlines that drive us toward Christmas earlier each year. Beneath our rebellion against the darkness is a longing for something universal, something Christmas whispers to all of us —whether we acknowledge it or not. I believe that longing is for grace.
The Universal Appeal of Grace
Whether someone is a Christian believer or not, Christmas stirs something universal: a longing for grace. The story of Christmas — the baby in the manger, the angels announcing “good news of great joy for all people” — is deeply countercultural. The world’s message is clear: work harder, buy more so you can keep up with the Joneses, be better. But God’s grace which says, “Come as you are.” Grace - won for you through the death of Christ on the cross - is not earned; it’s given.
This is why Christmas resonates even outside church walls. Think of Ebenezer Scrooge in Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. His transformation — from a bitter miser to a generous man — doesn’t come from guilt or obligation but from a moment of grace. He sees his own unworthiness and, through that realization, becomes capable of love. It’s the gospel in disguise, showing how grace disrupts our patterns of selfishness and makes joy possible.
For Christians, this is especially important to remember. We often let the rush of the season distract us from what’s already been done for us. The pressure to buy the perfect gift or host the perfect party can drown out the simple truth: Christmas is about what’s been accomplished through Christ, not what we accomplish. Grace doesn’t operate on a December deadline. It’s always here, waiting to meet us.
Maybe Christmas Is Already Here
So where does that leave a Mr. Grinchypants like me, reluctantly stringing lights in November? If I’m honest, my resistance to early decorating probably has less to do with principle, and more to do with liking my traditions to be neat and orderly. But my family’s joyful chaos reminds me that the message of Christmas isn’t about schedules — it’s about surprise.
Maybe the growing trend of early decorating is a sign that we need to slow down, not speed up. What if the tree in November isn’t just about jumping the gun but about carving out space for joy in the midst of chaos? After all, Christmas isn’t just a day. It’s a season of grace, a reminder that hope is already here.
So whether your tree has been up since Halloween or your decorations are still tucked away in the attic, remember this: the true gift of Christmas doesn’t come from what we do but from what’s been done for us. And that’s worth celebrating — early, late, or anytime at all.
And don’t tell anyone, but the day after Thanksgiving I secretly like topping the tree with our Christmas star ornament. So, I guess I’m happy to help decorate the tree. As long as my wife and kids let me grumble a little first.
