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Why I Love Christmas (Even Though It Makes Absolutely No Sense)

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Let’s be honest: it makes zero sense that I love Christmas as much as I do. I’m not a shopper. I’m not a zealot. I’m not someone who decorates the house so aggressively that planes mistake it for a runway. And I’m not the person who thinks “Black Friday Doorbusters” are a spiritual experience.

And yet… come December 1st, I turn into a walking Hallmark subplot. People ask, “Why do you love Christmas so much?” And I try to answer, but what comes out is usually a mix of nostalgia, theology, and emotional confetti.

So let me break it down the only way I know how: with humor, honesty, and the faint smell of gingerbread trauma. Christmas is stitched into my DNA; blame nature, nurture, and possibly spiked eggnog. I can’t escape it. The second I see twinkle lights, something ancient and sentimental in me wakes up like: “Ah, yes, time to believe in miracles again. Also, where’s the cinnamon?”

Meanwhile, the commercialization of Christmas makes me twitch. I’m spiritually allergic to inflatable yard decorations taller than my house. But give me a quiet church pew, a choir singing a hymn from 1854, or memories of the Plaza lights in KCMO, and suddenly I’m thinking: “Humanity isn’t so bad! We might make it!” Basically, Christmas bypasses my brain and goes straight to the part of my soul labeled “soft.”

I love Christmas because, once a year, people behave slightly better. It’s the season where even grumpy strangers attempt kindness, as if the universe is conducting a social experiment: “Let’s see if these humans can go 30 days without committing emotional warfare.”  And sometimes, we pull it off.

Families attempt peace treaties. Neighbors nod pleasantly instead of glaring. Random people donate money, food, jackets, or patience.

For 11 months of the year, hope feels complicated. But in December? I’m convinced we might earn that “season of miracles” branding. Call it optimism. Call it foolishness. Call it the Christmas spirit sneaking into my bloodstream like a holiday ninja. But I genuinely believe people can be better… if they just give this season a fighting chance.

I’m not a religious zealot; I prefer the term “festive diplomat.” Yes, I’m Catholic.
No, I’m not here to smack anyone with a Nativity set and shout doctrine at them. I’m the opposite. I believe in religious tolerance, learning from other faiths, appreciating what each tradition brings to humanity, and never weaponizing a hymnal.

Christmas, to me, isn’t about rules. It’s about resonance. The music, the candles, the stories, they hit me in a place that has nothing to do with dogma and everything to do with being human. And honestly? This world could use a little more humanity.

Christmas amplifies the version of myself I hope exists year-round. You know the version of you that appears only around the holidays?

The one who’s: generous, reflective, forgiving, less likely to yell at drivers, and more likely to cry at a sentimental commercial involving a puppy!

Yeah. That version of me shows up like clockwork. Christmas basically upgrades my personality like a software patch: Sturgill 2.0, now with 30% more hope and 40% fewer complaints.

I don’t love Christmas because it changes me. I love it because it reminds me of who I want to be the rest of the year. But sometimes I forget between February and tax season.

So why Do I love Christmas? Because it brings out the possibility that humanity isn’t a lost cause after all. Because it gives us a glimpse of what the world could look like if we slowed down, softened up, and stopped acting like we’re late for everything all the time.

Because it turns music into magic. Because it turns strangers into neighbors. Because it turns memories into meaning. Because it turns ordinary days into something extraordinary. Because it whispers, “Try again. Tomorrow will be better.”

And honestly, that’s worth celebrating every year.




 

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