So it’s Christmas this month.

It’s debatable if Christmas is truly meaningful. It has heathen origins, and December 25 isn’t actually Jesus’s birthday. Likewise the oldest Gospel, Mark, suggests that the earliest Christians were not so interested in Jesus’ birth as they were in his baptism and ministry.

My own family doesn’t celebrate Christmas. While Churches are busy with programmes for outreach, I personally take Christmas as a time for rest. We’re traditional Chinese folks where Chinese New Year carries more weight than a festivity imported from the west.

But as Gentile believers, we settle on Resurrection Sunday as a non-negotiable day to commemorate our faith in our risen Lord.

So is Christmas still meaningful? Well, it depends on the celebrant. If you love Christmas, may the event grow up with you, like a good song into your old age. May it be more than rituals and symbols of the past.

May Christmas always point you to Christ: He alone is the promise that we know has been fulfilled, and the promise to come that will bring everlasting hope.

Hope is also the name of my second born. Seven years ago, I almost died giving birth to her because of a birth complication. I wrestled with life and death in the hospital as my husband paced outside, praying for me.

I grew in bold faith as I recovered. I stood in the Word at all times – never afraid.

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38).

I know that if I believe this with all my heart, I’ll enjoy this Christmas the same way I enjoy the new mercies of each new day.

Just as I’ll enjoy the gifts of breathing, living and sleeping until death ushers me into new life again.