Santa Claus

Ho! Ho! Ho! Seasons greetings, boys and girls. It’s almost time for Christmas. I’ll bet you can’t wait, eh? I thought so! Ho! Ho! Ho! You just love Christmas, don’t you? Oh, so do I. Ho! Ho! Ho! I love visiting each and every one of your homes, stuffing your stockings with toys, and enjoying the milk and cookies you leave for me. But mostly I love Christmas because it’s the celebration of the birth of my only son, Jesus the Christ. You see, I’m God.




Oh, don’t look at me funny. I want to see you smile. Smile for Santa! Come on. If you don’t smile, I won’t give you what you want for Christmas this year. Oh, there we go! Ho! Ho! Ho! That’s a good child. Now bring your little ear close to Santa. I want to tell you something. A little closer. There we are. If you’re very, very good this year, I’m going to give you everlasting life in my heavenly kingdom. Would you like that? Oh, I’ll bet you would! Ho! Ho! Ho!

You probably think you only see me at Christmas time, don’t you? Well, that’s not true. You see me every Sunday in church. Look at me. Don’t I look familiar to you? I’m old, I have a while beard, I love everyone. I’m the same God as the one you and your mommy and daddy worship on Sundays.


You do know why I want you to be on my list of good boys and girls, don’t you? Why I don’t want you to tell lies, or be disrespectful to your parents? Of course you do. Because those are my Ten Commandments, the ones I emblazoned onto stone tablets and handed down the mount to Moses thousands of years ago. And when you obey my Ten Commandments, I reward you with lovely presents, such as eternal life. If you disobey them, I punish you with the searing fires of Hell. That’s what a God does. But you’ve been good, haven’t you? Of course you have! Ho! Ho! Ho! You’re all such good boys and girls. Santa loves you.

Oh, but sometimes Santa gets sad. Yes, I do. Do you know why? Because I don’t have anything to do all year except on Christmas Eve. Well, except for listening to all the precious prayers of you good little boys and girls, of course. I listen to all your prayers all year ‘round. I listen to your parents’ prayers, too. And then, when Christmas approaches, my elves—oops! I mean, my angels—and I work very hard building all the toys. I have many angels, with mighty wings and flowing robes as bright as the sun.


I try to stay jolly. Because what kind of Santa would I be if I weren’t jolly? Not much of one, that’s for sure! Ho! Ho! Ho! But it’s not easy being God. It’s very cold on the North Pole—Heaven. I live in Heaven, of course. It’s always warm up there, and we listen to beautiful harp music all the livelong day.

Okay, I admit it. I’m not God. But I’m better than God. I’m jollier, and I give you real toys, not boring old psalms and empty promises you can only collect on when you die. Worship me, not him! Worship Santa! I am God!