Before the Tree: Choose the Gift

You can give without loving—but you can’t love without giving.

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NOTE: This is part 3 in “Before the Tree: Four pre-Christmas decisions that change how you do December.”

Link to Part 1—Choose the King.
Link to Part 2—Choose the Simple.
Link to Part 4—Choose the Forgotten.

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By the time you read this, the pressure has probably started.

The lists.
The sales.
The unspoken comparisons.

You’re trying to remember who got what last year so you don’t “downgrade” anyone.
Trying to keep the kids’ stacks even.
Trying to guess how much your siblings will spend so you don’t look cheap or ridiculous.

We call it “the season of giving.”
Half the time it feels like the season of appeasing.

Did I spend enough? Did I match what they’ll spend on me? Will this look generous or lame when they open it in front of everyone?

We’re exhausted, broke, and still not sure if we passed the test.

And yet, at the center of the Christmas story there isn’t a receipt, a ledger, or a scale.
There’s a Person.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son…” (John 3:16)
“To us a child is born, to us a son is given…” (Isaiah 9:6)
“Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift.” (2 Corinthians 9:15)

God’s answer to a broken world wasn’t a box shipped Prime just in time. It was Himself. Here’s the thing:

You can give without loving.
But you cannot love without giving.

The question isn’t whether you’ll give this December.
The question is what your gifts will say about the Gift.

Before the tree goes up, decision #3 is this: Choose the Gift.
Let God’s way of giving transform yours.

When love shows up instead of just shipping out

The name the angel gave Jesus was Immanuel—“God with us.” Think about that for a second.

Not God cheering from a distance.
Not God emailing encouragement.
Not God searching “Christmas gifts for 40-year-old men” on Amazon.

God moved in.
He let Himself be held, interrupted, grabbed by the hem of his robe. He ate at people’s tables. He touched lepers. He listened to long, rambling stories that could’ve been wrapped up in a sentence.

When you think back on your childhood Christmases, what stands out most?

You probably remember a handful of standout gifts.
But mostly, you remember moments:

• mom on the floor playing the board game again even though she was tired

• dad driving us around to look at lights

• that one year the power went out and we all sat around candles

• the Christmas we rented the Airbnb and just hung out for a week away from it all

We say we’re going overboard “for the kids,” while the kids are silently wondering if we’re ever going to sit down… and be with them. Immanuel.

Maybe real generosity doesn’t start at the mall.
Maybe it starts with a question like this:

Where do the people I love need more of me, not more stuff?

When a gift says, “I see you”

From the manger to the cross, God’s gift has always been deeply personal.

The angel didn’t just say, “A Savior has been born.”
He said, “A Savior has been born to you.” (Luke 2:10-11)

Jesus doesn’t love a vague blob called “humanity.”
He loves people—with names, quirks, trauma, and backstories.

So much of our Christmas giving, though, is eerily impersonal.

We’ve all opened that gift that basically says, “I panicked, grabbed whatever was closest to the register, and hoped the gift receipt would cover it.”

Nothing evil about that. But you know the difference between thoughtful and obligatory.

Impersonal giving says, “I checked the box.”
Personal giving says, “I see you.”

Some of the best gifts I’ve ever seen weren’t impressive at all from a budget perspective:

• A dad who bought his son a pound of coffee and wrote, “This can only be used when we drink it together. Your questions, my stories, one cup at a time.”

• A father who spent two years reading through a Bible, filling the margins with notes and prayers for his child—then wrapped it up and gave it as a graduation gift.

Cheap materials.
Costly attention.

When we give gifts that are a tangible representation of ourselves, we’re preaching the real Christmas story: God gave Himself.

What would show this person, “I really see you,”

even if it’s small or strange?

When generosity actually costs us something

Christmas isn’t holy because a baby showed up.
It’s holy because that baby grew up and gave His life away.

Philippians 2 says that though Jesus was equal with God, He didn’t hold on to His rights. He emptied Himself, took on the form of a servant, and obeyed all the way to a cross.

In heaven He had all the glory, all the honor, all the comfort. On earth He had:

• a borrowed feeding trough,

• a borrowed boat,

• a borrowed donkey,

• a borrowed upper room,

• and, finally, a borrowed tomb.

Christmas is God saying, “I will pay whatever it costs to bring you home.”

So if our version of “generosity” never costs us anything—no time, no pride, no comfort, no control—we might not be telling the same story.

Real giving is rarely convenient. It rearranges something. It pinches somewhere.

And yet, isn’t it strange that the gifts that cost us the most

are the ones we almost never regret?

Three value corrections before you fill Santa’s bag

You will not drift into personal, sacrificial, just-like-Jesus giving.

You will drift toward frantic buying, shallow gifts, and overspending for all the wrong reasons.

If you want this to change, you’re going to need a value correction. Here are three simple ways to start.

1. The Presence Present

Pick at least one person and decide to give them time with you as a wrapped gift. Put it on paper. Make it concrete.

• A weekly breakfast for a month.

• A standing coffee date with your spouse in the new year—dates and childcare already sketched out.

• A night where phones stay off and your teen picks the movie and the menu.

Wrap the plan. Put it under the tree.

You’re not just giving hours. You’re saying, “You matter more than my schedule.”

2. The Personal Present

Ask: If I really paid attention, what would bless them? Then go the extra mile. Make it weird.

It might be:

• a framed photo with a note about why that moment mattered

• a book that changed you, with your highlights and questions in the margins

• a playlist and a handwritten explanation of why each song is in there

• a journal with a prayer or Scripture written on the inside cover

Don’t overthink the aesthetics. This isn’t a Pinterest contest.

You’re simply trying to echo the gospel: “I know you. I’m with you.”

3. The Purposeful Present

Redirect one chunk of Christmas money to “the least of these.” In Part 2, we talked about spending less on purpose.

Here’s where some of that “less” becomes someone else’s “more.”

Take one line of your usual Christmas budget—an upgrade, an extra, a tradition that’s mostly stress—and re-route it.

• Groceries for a single parent.

• A rent boost for a family that’s barely hanging on.

• A gift to a clean-water project, a child sponsorship, or a local ministry serving the poor.

Jesus said, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for Me.” (Matthew 25:40)

The way we give to them is one of the clearest ways we give to Him.

One question to ponder

If someone could only see your gift list and your receipts this year—no carols, no captions, no statements of faith—what would they conclude you believe about love?

That it’s mostly about price tags and obligation?
Or that it looks like a Person who comes close, knows you by name, and gives at great cost?

Before the tree goes up, I’m asking Jesus to retrain my giving.

This year, before the tree goes up, I want to choose the Gift—to give more of myself, more personally, and more sacrificially—because that’s exactly how He has given Himself to me.

What about you?

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