S is for SANTA CLAUS

I saw him walking down the street in my local town the other day. He was about six feet three inches tall, his face was reddish and he had a long grey beard that matched his flowing locks of grey hair. He didn't seem to be going anywhere in a hurry. I've know him for some time, not personally, but I have spoken to him on many occasions. His real name is John and for a large part of my life he managed the local record shop in town. Several times the shop moved location and every time I followed John to his new home, to browse through his vast musical array hoping to satisfy my musical hunger. There were other record stores in town and in the bigger cities but they were never like his, for he didn't just cater for what was popular in the charts and television but regularly stocked names that few in the country had ever heard of and introduced me to a world of music that didn't exist in the other shops. And he had a great knowledge of his products, always ready to chat about new artists whom I might like and often he would hand me a set of headphones so I could listen before I'd buy, just in case I would be disappointed by his recommendation. So, when I visited his shop, almost always I bought something, such was his generosity of heart and I'm pretty sure he treated all his customers in the same way. And that's why we called him Santa Claus, that and his long grey beard and hair.

As a child I rarely stopped to think deeply about Santa Claus, his generosity and why he does it year after year. It was enough to know that he made it to my house once a year, had a generosity that my mum and dad could never match and, even though they warned me that he only came to good boys and girls, he never let me down and always seemed to know exactly what I wanted. Sometimes he left our presents on the sofa in the kitchen, other times they were on the carpet in the living room, sometimes wrapped but usually not and on the very odd occasion, in the case of our new bikes, were left in the garage. And he always left something for mum as well, usually chocolates. I remember one year, feeling a bit disgruntled that he had left her nothing until she found a box of Milk Tray behind the curtain at the front door. And we always made sure he didn't go hungry himself, with a glass of milk, some cake and a carrot for his reindeer and all had disappeared by the time I got up on Christmas morning. Like I say, I never stopped to think how one carrot fed the whole herd or how he managed to get everone's presents on his sleigh, and how he coped with all those glasses of milk and occasionally something a little stronger, but then it's really only big people who worry about such things! When our boys were born, he immediately had our house on his address list and right from their first Christmas, even though they still didn't know he existed, he was delivering presents that they hadn't even requested. How thoughtful is that? And as they grew up, I recall how they felt the same excitement that I had known each Christmas Eve and the following morning, how sleep would desert them from the early hours and how he always delivered exactly what they wanted and more. It seemed to me that Santa Claus was actually getting richer as he got older!

And despite all his goodness down the years, I wouldn't even start to compare the love that is shown through Santa Claus with the love that Jesus has shown for me, for I feel his goodness every day of the year and not just on one special occasion. The great thing about his love is that he treats my needs and not just my wants as Paul says, writing to the Philippians, 'My God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.' I don't know if you've ever stopped to think about why He does it and I can find no greater answer than the line in that old children's hymn, 'Because He loves me so.' Jesus came to this world, long before Santa Claus and He brings the greatest present of all that lasts for ever, but He needs to know that you want it!