As the lines wrap around Best Buy and shoppers begin hurdling one another at Walmart on Black Friday this week, the usual complaints and pontifications will be offered up in defense of the “true meaning” of Christmas. Everyone knows Christmas isn’t supposed to be about the “stuff” money can buy, but about all those “happy things” that money can’t buy. Everyone knows this already. It’s old hat, but it is what we clergy are supposed to say this time of year.

I’m not sure what good another sermon, or another article, or another sour-faced television reporter can really do to change our holiday insanity. The truth is we all struggle with the merchandising of Christmas in one way or another. If we aren’t busy shopping for our own wants, then we tend to worry about under-giving to friends and family, or sometimes (when we feel especially moved) under-giving to our favorite charity. Christmas is too often driven by want and obligation: forces that keep our psychological inns overcrowded, but still pretty dang comfortable if we’re able to squeeze inside. We know who gets locked outside at Christmas and the story of how his mother stumbles “away to a manger” to give birth. I’m supposed to be writing about that.

One of the things that turns me off the most about Christianity this time of year is the way we pastors present ourselves as the hero of the story… as the ones who are able to “call America back” to the real meaning of Christmas. I’m not that guy. The truth is my kids are quite comfortable this year; the stuff beneath our tree will be taking up just as much space as yours. When it comes to merchandising the season, I am on the comfortable side of the door.

We’ve all heard the knocking. The poor are right outside, some of them even nine months pregnant and needing a warm place to stay. But the comfortable inn stays pretty full… Besides, it’s not as easy to help as it used to be. Behind door number one is a family too embarrassed to put their child’s name on the angel tree. Behind door number two is a family who has placed their child on 18 angel trees spread across four counties. Knowing which door to open requires a personal relationship and those are in short supply these days, even for pastors. No one knows what to do anymore or how to best help, so the easiest thing is to do nothing at all, to lose ourselves in the season—the television specials, the parades, the carols, maybe a little Kahlua on the rocks with a dash of half-and-half by an open fire.

Somewhere out there though, a miracle is taking place and deep down, we all know it. Somewhere, out where the animals make their beds and the stench of livestock fills the air, something precious is born. This Christmas, like so many others, we will turn our heads for just a moment to the frost on the window pane. We will see past the reflection of paper littering the floor. We will sigh once again, like we did last year, and offer up a whimper of prayer before being distracted by the sound of electronics and the smell of ham.

It won’t be too awfully different this year. I’m no better than anyone else. Still, deep down I know something is amiss, not just with the world, but with my own soul. Somewhere out there, I believe that mercy incarnate shivers in the blackest cold of dawn. He grows stronger with each passing second and with every undue hardship cast upon him. In due time, He will emerge and find His way to my “Comfortable Inn” to knock once more… if I choose to open the door. He will smile the sweetest smile for me, whisper a word of love, then offer the thing I need most: He will throw across His shoulders all the unwrapped packages of my shame.

Rev. David Allred is the lead pastor of High Places Community Church, 123 Randolph Road in Oak Ridge. He works alongside founding pastor Martin Fischer. High Places owns and operates the historic Grove Theater, which is also home to numerous arts organizations that share a vision for improving the quality of life in Oak Ridge. For more information, see http://highplaceschurch.com.