They told me He was the reason for the season, but He's the purpose of my life
My identity and everything I am is wrapped up in Christ (nice bow too)
So much so that when I am putting up the lights
I feel convicted that I don't embody one to a world in darkness w/o sight
Disclaimer: I have no beef with Santa and all his elves
But of all the gifts they can give me they could never give me themselves
Picture This: The fullness of God and all His glory trading in his eL train-long robe
To be humbled to the form of a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes
You want to talk about condescended?
No penthouse suite, just a manger
No mass text or tweet, literally just a manger
The One who made the tongue had to learn how to talk
The One who made legs to run had to learn how to walk
He went from the manger to the cross
And anything less than perfect would be just another life lost
You see I can talk about consumerism and commercialism
But that's low-hanging fruit and we all know it
But I dare to pull out my mirror and put it into focus
I have nothing against parties and decorations
I hope that put a rest to all your fears
I'm more concern about what we do with the other 300-something days of the year
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