The Dyson Airwrap: $400. PlayStation 5 Pro: $700. ($855 if you want an extra controller and a disc drive). A third Stanley cup: $45. New sneakers: $130. A Star Wars Lego set: $150. Skincare and makeup supplies: $200. These prices might be enough to give most parents a panic attack, yet items like this are a core part of “Christmas Hauls”—videos of teens breathlessly sharing all the presents they received—that flood TikTok each year.
Most families can’t afford to lavish their kids with three to four (to five!) figures worth of presents, but as affluent, wealthy influencers unbox pricey gift after pricey gift, it’s hard not to watch with a sense of shared excitement, joy, and maybe a little bit of envy.
As the third week of Advent begins, we turn our hearts to the joy of the coming incarnation of Christ in Jesus—God in the flesh. The angel tells the shepherds waiting in the fields about the joy they’re receiving, saying, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.”
It doesn’t take a philosopher to realize there’s a dissonance present in our Christmas presents. We celebrate the gift of Jesus—the greatest gift in human history—all while being sucked into consumerism and spending. It’s maybe never been more on display than bright-eyed teens breathlessly counting up the monetary value of their “hauls.”
We might see the “gift haul” trend and shake our heads at how it reflects on the current generation. But remember that our teens receive their culture as much as they create it. Today’s teens might have an enormous appetite for pricey gifts, but that doesn’t mean they are the reason the Christmas season has become, in many ways, a shopping holiday.
It’s also convicting, because as parents and trusted adults, we’re just as susceptible to looking for joy in the wrong places. As we walk through this Christmas-time with our teens, it’s worth stopping and examining what a week of Advent focused on joy can teach us. Where does our joy come from? Is it in an excess of things? Is it in receiving as much as the nameless masses on TikTok? Does it reside in justice or fairness or harmony or everyone getting along at Christmas dinner? Or is it in something even better?
The joy in Christmas is a firm reminder that we have a God who cared enough about humanity, His creation, to wrap Himself in our flesh, to walk our dusty roads, to feel growing pains, to feel the pangs of hunger, to be tempted, to be tried, and, eventually, to die a shameful death reserved for criminals. All of this to fix a problem we created; all of this to be reconciled with us—with you, with me. And that’s something we can be joyful about.
Here’s a question you could use to kickstart—or continue—a conversation: Can you think of a time you felt especially joyful during Christmas? Why do you think you were so joyful?