Before the Tree: Choose the Simple
How is your December discipling the people you love?
NOTE: This is Part 2 of a series – “Before the Tree: Four pre-Christmas decisions that change how you do December.”
Link to Part 1—Choose the King.
Link to Part 3—Choose the Gift.
Link to Part 4—Choose the Forgotten.
By the time the tree is up, a lot of us are already stressed.
The cart’s full.
The brain is doing the dreaded Christmas-budget math.
The lies start whispering:
If you don’t get enough, they’ll be disappointed.
If you don’t match last year, you failed.
If you don’t say yes to everything, you’re a bad parent / bad friend / bad Christian.
Meanwhile, the numbers are insane.
Americans will spend over $1 trillion on holiday purchases this year—nearly $900 per person on gifts, food, and decorations—would take around $114–150 billion a year to get basic clean water and sanitation to people in low- and middle-income countries.
So we’ll spend seven to nine times more on Christmas than it would cost to give the entire world safe water.
Think about that a second.
We’re not monsters. We’re not trying to ignore suffering.
We’re just… caught in the wrong story.
When Herod runs your December
Matthew tells the Christmas story in the shadow of a king: Herod the Great.
Herod had everything we’re trained to respect:
Massive building projects.
Military power.
Enough wealth and status that people basically treated him like a god.
He also had a death grip on control.
History and Scripture tell us he killed family members who threatened him—his wife, several sons—and when he heard about a new “King of the Jews” being born in Bethlehem, he ordered every little boy in that region two and under slaughtered.
That’s Herod’s kingdom: Fear. Power. Control. More.
Now zoom in on us. The script feels familiar:
We obsess over image.
We chase “just a little bit more” like that’s where safety lives.
We let fear of missing out, fear of not having enough, and fear of not being enough drive our December decisions.
We don’t have palaces, but we do have closets we can’t close, carts we can’t afford, and kids who expect more every year because… that’s how we’ve trained them.
Herod maxed out palaces; we max out credit cards.
Same kingdom. Just less wallpaper.
A King who chose small
Herod’s kingdom runs on bigger, louder, richer. So does ours. Think about it. If you and I were in charge of the Incarnation rollout, we’d do it like this:
Jerusalem.
Palace.
Influential family.
Strong PR strategy.
But God went with:
Bethlehem—a throwaway little town.
A stable.
A feeding trough for a crib.
An unwed teenage girl and a blue-collar carpenter.
No palace.
No safety detail.
No luxury.
Just vulnerability, scandal, and… barn smells.
God wasn’t trying to keep up with Herod. He was quietly overthrowing him.
What I’m saying is Herod’s kingdom ends in ruins. If you want to see his greatness, you have to dig through archaeological sites.
But Jesus’ Kingdom? Still growing—2,000 years later, people all over the world are staking their lives on a King who was born in a barn, placed in a feeding trough, and ended up dying on a Roman cross.
So when we celebrate that King by spending like Herod, panicking like Herod, and chasing status like Herod… something’s off, isn’t it?
You’re not just buying presents. You’re discipling someone.
This is where it gets uncomfortable. We think we’re “just doing Christmas for the kids.” But every December, we’re discipling them into a story about:
what joy looks like,
where security comes from,
what ‘enough’ means,
and what they have to do to be loved.
Herod’s story says:
More every year.
Newer, bigger, better = happier, safer.
If you can’t afford it, find a way anyway.
Jesus’ story says:
You are loved before you open one box.
Your life is not measured by what you own.
The greatest joy is in sacrificing to give, not stacking the gifts.
We’re not going to nail this perfectly, but it’s worth asking:
What story am I leading my kids into?
So before the tree goes up, decision #2 is this: Choose the Simple.
Not “choose the perfect.”
Not “choose the impressive.”
Not “choose the biggest haul for the cheapest price.”
Choose a Christmas that actually lines up with the King you picked in Part 1.
Simplicity is not about being cheap
Some of us hear “Choose the Simple” and immediately go defensive:
“So we’re just not doing presents?”
“It’s Christmas. Isn’t this when you’re supposed to go big?”
The point is not: “Gifts are bad,” or “If you love Jesus, you’ll buy nothing and sit in the dark.”
The point is: Stop letting Herod set the terms of your Christmas.
Jesus told a story about a rich man who kept building bigger barns to store all his stuff. The man thought he was crushing it. God called him a fool and said, “This very night your life is demanded of you. Then who gets all this?” (Luke 12).
Simplicity is not about being stingy; it’s about refusing to live like the barn-builder.
It’s choosing to believe:
My life is not measured by the size of my December.
My kids’ or grandkids’ joy and security don’t hang on my Amazon cart.
Following Jesus will cost me the excess everyone else considers normal.
Pre-decide your simple
Let’s get practical.
You won’t drift into simplicity. Herod’s economy is the default setting.
If you want to Choose the Simple, you have to pre-decide your simple before the tree goes up.
1. Name the beliefs driving your spending
Take 60 seconds. Finish these sentences honestly:
“If I don’t buy enough, I’m worried…”
“If we don’t match last year, my kids/grandkids will…”
“If we say no to ________, then…”
You’ll probably uncover beliefs like:
I won’t have enough.
My kids won’t love me as much.
My family won’t be happy without more.
Bring those into the open. Then pray: “Jesus, what lie am I believing here? And what’s the truth You want me to live from instead?”
Simplicity starts with trust, not coupon codes.
2. Draw your “simple line” before you shop
Don’t wait until the cart is full to decide how simple you want this year to be.
Before you buy one more thing, decide:
A total budget you will not go over.
A gift plan (for example: one main gift, one meaningful gift, one fun stocking thing per kid).
One tradition you’ll shrink or skip this year because it only adds stress, not joy.
Write it down. Tell your spouse, roommate, or a friend: “We’re choosing a simpler Christmas on purpose so we can say yes to better things.”
If your kids are old enough to understand, you can even say: “We’re doing a little less stuff this year so we can do a little more good. That’s how we follow Jesus.”
This isn’t just about spending less. This is about teaching a different kingdom, so in the end what you have isn’t the main deciding factor.
3. Re-route what you don’t spend
Simplicity isn’t just subtraction. It’s redirection.
Whatever you choose not to spend—on extra decor, the upgrade gift, the “just because” stuff—decide ahead of time where it’s going instead.
You could pick one local and one global place:
Local: a benevolence fund at church, a family whose December is tight, or a local ministry serving the poor.
Global: a child sponsorship, a clean water project, or another ministry serving “the least of these.”
Even a small amount is a massive shift inside you. Every time you feel that itch to upgrade, you get to remember: “We’re spending less so we can join a better story.”
Herod’s kingdom is rubble.
Jesus’ Kingdom is still moving.
You’re choosing which one you’re partnering with.
One question to carry into today
If someone audited your December calendar and bank statement—not your theology—would they say you live for Herod’s kingdom or Jesus’?
Herod says, “Grab more. Protect more. Impress more.”
Jesus says, “Lose your life for my sake and you’ll find it.”
Before the tree goes up, I’m choosing Jesus. I’m choosing the simple.
What about you?
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