Christmas Offers Hope That's Neither Plastic nor Pink

Lara Patangan contrasts the mystery of the Incarnation with what the world tells us Christmas needs to be.

I always wanted a Barbie Dream House. My best friend had one, and we spent countless hours making Barbie prance around the plastic mansion, flitting from one perfectly appointed room into the next.  Barbie’s life was glamorous and posh, and the makers at Mattel made sure she wanted for nothing. When I begged for my parents to buy me a Dream House, they lamely suggested I make my own, as if I were some sort of Christmas elf who could magically build a two-story manor with its own elevator and swimming pool. 

Besides, even if I had the skills and resources to do miniature carpentry with leftover cardboard boxes, I didn’t want to be a working elf. I was Barbie’s protégé. I wanted life to be petal pink and easy.   

Life Isn't Pink and Easy

It turns out that life isn’t pink and easy for most of us. It’s messy, more like the stable in which the Savior of mankind was born. We may not be sleeping in beds of straw, yet life can be just as uncomfortable as we try to navigate a world that has become increasingly callous and desensitized to the needs of others. While not surrounded by the hot, sticky breath of farm animals, the familiarity of constant demands breathing down our necks leaves us exhausted and empty. We may not be as materially impoverished as Jesus at His birth, yet the spiritual poverty of a world that focuses on getting more, doing more, owning and achieving more has left many of us longing for a sense of peace and purpose. 

During the holidays, we are surrounded by abundance. Still, it’s easy to feel a scarcity underneath all of the glitter and getting. Did we buy enough? Did we get something for everyone on our list? Will we have time to make cookies? Are the three themed Christmas trees in our home clever enough to make little Johnny’s childhood perfect so he doesn’t end up in therapy? 

There are countless ways to feel like we won’t have enough time, money, or sanity to get through the demands of this extravagant season. Paradoxically, the humility of the Nativity scenes displayed in our homes, yards, and churches is a reminder that the birth of Jesus gave us everything we will ever need.  

Materialism Doesn't Make Christmas Meaningful

Christmas is not meaningful for the lavish indulgence of materialism that retailers commercialize, but for the humility of recognizing our need for a Savior. Jesus came to live among us. God becoming man to save us from sin is a transformative and pivotal moment for humanity. In the simplicity of the Nativity, there is a great deal being said. God dwells among us. Awe and astonishment aren’t under our Christmas trees but lying peacefully on top of a bed of hay.  

Even well-meaning themes of generosity, family, and tradition pale in comparison to the importance of the Incarnation. The Nativity scene offers a reprieve from excess and busyness. It’s a reminder that we can experience the nearness of Jesus by creating a manger for Him in our own hearts — a space of inexhaustible joy, hope that will not disappoint, and a source of consolation for the sorrows of this world.  

On the surface, it doesn’t make much sense why the King of Kings didn’t get something at least comparable to Barbie’s accommodations when He was born. Throughout history, royalty has always lived better than we commoners. But from His humble birth, everything about Jesus’s life is counter to how the world tells us things should be. He doesn’t care about hierarchy or privilege. He isn’t impressed with prestige or material wealth. He was born to die so that we could live for eternity. 

Maybe all of this seems too sobering and surreal compared to bright lights, prancing reindeer, and presents under a tree. It’s hard for me to get the gravity of it, too. Then I look at my carefully arranged Nativity scene, and I get glimpses of the significance of what it means to have a Savior. I’m awed by the magnificent joy of it.   

Christmas offers us hope that isn’t plastic or pink. The humble beauty and peaceful depiction of the Nativity scene isn’t grand, and not even the Three Kings look as snazzy as Barbie so often did, yet I long to build a space of my own to shelter the peace of Christ. The Nativity reminds us that by caring less about worldly desires and more about others, we can make our own manger, one act of mercy at a time, until our hearts are fit for a King.  

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Copyright 2025 Lara Patangan
Images: Canva