There was a time when the first of December arrived with the mellow voice of Jim Reeves singing “Silver Bells” or “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” Suddenly the neighbourhood stirred. Curtains were pushed aside, children peeped out, mothers smiled knowingly, and fathers nodded that it was time to pull out the dusty box marked Christmas.
Soon church choirs would be at work. Sopranos would soar and altos would complain that nobody heard them. Tenors would fight to show who could hold the longest note and the pianist banged away as if the keys needed punishment.
Parties sprouted like mushrooms after rain. One would be at the club, another on the terrace, another in a neighbour’s flat, and another in the community hall where someone would always slip on the polished floor at least once. Sweets appeared in tins and jars. Rum cakes soaked for months began to smell like entire breweries. And yes, in every gathering, a potbellied uncle was chosen for the sacred role of Santa. He would adjust his beard, pat his tummy, and threaten to be naughty unless given an extra slice of cake. It was all part of the merrymaking.
Cribs were built lovingly. One family brought real hay. Another insisted their crib had the best lighting. Someone else used a doll that looked suspiciously like a leftover from Diwali sales. Christmas trees leaned dangerously as if unsure about holding the weight of balls, bells, angels and cotton snowflakes that would never make it to the actual 25th without a casualty.
But somewhere in the middle of December’s sparkle, noise, and laughter, a thought begins to whisper. Are these really the preparations for Christmas? Or have we unknowingly wrapped distractions in glittering paper and tied them with satin ribbon?
Pause for a moment, and shift your gaze back to a prophecy written centuries ago by Isaiah. He spoke of the One who was to come, the Messiah, and said, “And the government shall be upon His shoulder. And His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”
The government upon His shoulder. That is power and authority, but not the kind we see today. Not authority that shouts and threatens, not leadership that divides and conquers, not power that tramples dissent. This is a leadership rooted in justice, wisdom, compassion, and peace. A rule that lifts the broken instead of breaking the minorities. A power that heals instead of hurts.
In today’s world of injustice and hopelessness, in our nation where lies echo louder than truth, and peace seems like a forgotten hymn, those words shine like a star over Bethlehem. They remind us that we celebrate not the fattest Santa in town. We celebrate the arrival of a King whose kingdom is built on love. Now that is something worth preparing for, right? That’s something worth singing for, isn’t it? So start baking your cake, training your voices, and preparing to celebrate. For the Prince of Peace has come. And that, my friends, is Christmas...!
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