Confession: For me, Christmas season begins in . . . late October. There, I admitted it. I feel better already.
I’m not saying I overlook the other holidays which occur in this time frame. We usually participate in our church’s Trunk or Treat event, which draws literally thousands of children and parents. Yep. Thousands. And we’re not a huge megachurch.
And yes, Thanksgiving is a great time at our house. After all, it kicks off the Christmas season! Just kidding, we eat a giant meal, do the whole thing.
But Christmas is it for me. My speaking season ends in early to mid-November, so I’m home for a month or so before Christmas. I’m more relaxed, have time to plan the coming year, get some important writing accomplished.
And darned right I watch . . . Christmas movies. Our favorite channel these days is Great American Family, and when the boys come in from school in the late afternoon the odds that I have a Christmas movie on in the background is about 94.2%.
Yes, I’m turning in my man card. I’m a sap.
Sure, I even things up by watching football, basketball and hockey—but while the Christmas movies are cheesy, I’m in.
An odd attraction to the unbelievable
So, what makes these movies so attractive not just to me, but to millions during this season?
It’s not the unpredictability of Christmas movies, for sure. Because in most instances, the plotline goes something like this:
First, guy and girl from different backgrounds meet. Do not connect on any level. One of ‘em is probably dating someone else, and that someone else is either checked out of the relationship, non-committal or downright selfish.
Second, the odd couple is thrown into a situation where they must see each other constantly (an unplanned cross country trip, a baking contest, a conflict over whether to demolish the historic home to build condos, a local business threatened by a big box store . . .).
Third, the two find common ground and begin to hit it off. Surprise, right?
Fourth, just as we think this relationship is about to launch, a miscommunication takes place or a vital piece of hidden information is unveiled (“I had no idea you were the Prince of Balonia! How dare you keep that from me!”), threatening the relationship.
Fifth, a wise friend helps the offended party see the good inside the person who is now the love he or she has been waiting for . . . and we go to commercial.
Finally, after the commercial break which wraps up nine minutes before the movie’s conclusion, the two lovebirds figure everything out, declare their love for each other and in the final minute we get the embrace and kiss, our signal that these two will live happily ever after.
Cheesy? Sure.
Too many sappy small-town stories? You bet.
Too many old men with Santa-like beards ironically named “Kris?” Uh huh.
Too many real estate magnates portrayed as villains because they want to create housing and economic development instead of saving the tree farm which was going out of business anyway? Absolutely.
But yes, I watch ‘em. But really, “Why?”
Give us the simple and idyllic—we love it
The simple explanation of course, is that these movies give us warm fuzzies. Good always wins, the couple works through their differences and miscommunications (“Oh, so when I saw you hug your ex it was because you were saying ‘Goodbye?’”), and hometown values and traditions are preserved.
These movies take us back to what we believe life used to be and can be once again. To places where people are never too busy; where the entire town stops working for days to prepare for the Downtown Christmas Fair and Tree Lighting.
And to places where no one frets over high prices and inflation, but everyone is talking about who might to win this year’s Gingerbread House Contest.
But there is more . . .
Yet there is something deeper. Because in almost all of these movies we find the unlikely hero. She is the Brooklyn-born hotel housekeeper who, through a series of fortunate events, becomes the future Queen of Winshire, a suburb of Great Britain and one of the greatest countries we’ve never heard of. In the process, she changes the entire culture of the Royal Family and that of its many loyal subjects.
Or she is the out-of-work go getter who, because of a clerical error, lands a job as personal assistant to a young CEO trying to make his mark on the business world. And guess what? To try and rescue one of his companies (a toy company, no less), she discovers this newfangled way to advertise called “Social Media.” And through a few friends and townspeople who post online, she saves the entire operation!
Far-fetched? Sure.
But in the recesses of our hearts, we want to believe ordinary people can accomplish the extraordinary. These movies suspend our cynicism, opening our eyes to a world of hope and promise where regular people are the heroes.
As odd as this sounds, I wonder if these movies can awaken our faith. Because we’ve read the story of a ruddy little shepherd who, with a few rocks and a slingshot, slayed Goliath. And the story of a Jewish girl who becomes a Queen and saves her people. Oh, and let’s not forget the loudmouth fisherman who denied Jesus but would later speak boldly and usher thousands into the kingdom of God.
David. Esther. Peter. All ordinary people. All unlikely heroes.
Perhaps, in our modern world where it seems only the politically powerful, the social media superstars and the rich and famous move the cultural needle, we need these silly movies. Because these movies spark our consciousness and tell us, “You—sometimes overlooked and seemingly forgotten—can be a difference-maker in this big world, too.”
Yeah. That’s it.
The stories of ordinary Biblical heroes should encourage us all year long. And they do. I think of the New Testament narratives of The Samaritan Woman, a guy named Saul who became Paul, or of a servant like Philip who became an amazing evangelist which tell me, “God inspires ordinary people to accomplish supernatural tasks.” I believe.
But at this time of year, we might snicker at storylines and chuckle when we see the M.I.T. graduate give up his big-time position to become a small town firefighter like his late father. But these movies give us a glimpse into who we all wish to be: An ordinary person who might just change the world.
Sappy? No doubt.
Yet in an odd way, inspiring. Because I still believe ordinary faith, lived out by ordinary people, can change the world around us. And though it may sound crazy, these movies remind me of this.
Am I off the mark? Maybe. And perhaps someone needs to sit me down for an intervention. But not right now . . .
Because there’s this movie I want to watch. It’s about this big-time real estate developer who crashed his car in a small town and has amnesia. And this girl who helped treat him realizes his company plans to close her family’s bookstore . . .