Maybe you know this saying: “You can’t buy happiness, but you can buy coffee, and that’s pretty close.” Though it remains one of my least favorite beverages, tasting like “burnt water” as I am convinced it does, I understand I exist in the minority of individuals who spend little, if any, time thinking about coffee, much less purchasing it. Nevertheless, it is a big, big deal. For context, the U.S. Coffee Market is estimated to be about $27 billion in 2023. We buy it for ourselves and for others, which as the quote suggests, is probably as close to bliss or contentment as we can hope to get. Americans are experts at purchasing coffee. We buy it all-the-time.

You could hardly argue successfully that any other time of year is pregnant with greater intensity concerning what we purchase, for whom, and towards what end than Advent and Christmas itself. To paraphrase something the rapper Drake said, ‘December is the gift-givin’ month’ that is steadfastly represented by the desire to rekindle one thing or another. We often want to give or get something, being the red-blooded, consumerist-minded people we are. Gifts in themselves are not intrinsically bad. Like so much else taken to an extreme, it is equally improper to be a Scrooge or someone who overindulges.

In his 1994 book Escape from Freedom, Erich Fromm mentioned, “Man does not only sell commodities, he sells himself and feels himself to be a commodity.” The stifling commercialization of religious “holy days” like Christmas does not make it any easier, but if we can keep gifts in their proper place, we are better off. Obviously, we can meet a litany of material, physical needs and wants with gifts. We can buy ourselves or others food, clothes, or secure adequate housing or medical attention. We can buy toys, knickknacks and keepsakes, boats, Botox injections, books, and bikes. However, life’s most priceless assets are categorically not for sale.

Try all you want; you cannot purchase love. Though we can buy attention or a degree of contractual or legal commitment, it never exists in the same ballpark as love. Think about the sacrificial fidelity a parent is supposed to have for their child, a husband or wife has for the other, or the “ride or die” defense you uphold for your best friend. We can both grasp and partake of God’s love for us, which is the greatest gift of all, and be supremely mystified by it, as in, “Why in tar-nation would God do all that He did to save us from the enmity that simmers within our cancerous human corruption?”

Love is rarely rooted in logic; I think it is fair to say. This does not mean that you must be crazy to be in love, to truly know what love is. Love cannot be about balancing a moral budget, “But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alike with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.” (Ephesians 2:4-5)

In Romans 5:8, Paul put it this way: “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

God does not throw humanity a bone with the gift of Christmas. But He does give up the bone of His bone and the flesh of His flesh, His beloved, to sacrificially atone for people like you and me who deserve death. The Beatles famously sang in 1964, in what is easily one of the music industry’s most popular songs, “Can’t buy me love.” Yes, we cannot buy love. We can, however, accept the gift of salvation that Jesus bought for us with his own blood. It all began with a baby boy born into a funky parental situation, who a crooked king (in service of the devil) tried to kill. Thank goodness that no one can stop God’s plan, and this includes us.