As a rule of thumb, one of the most common questions that my family will ask me during the time leading up to Christmas is this: What did you ask for from Santa this year? I'll answer good-naturedly, with something nonspecific like clothes or gift cards and leave it at that.

I'm sick of it.

The origins of gift giving at Christmas began with three wise men, as the story goes, bearing three gifts to the infant Jesus. The first gift was gold, a present befitting the King of Kings. The second gift was frankincense, a perfume used in Jewish worship that foretold the worship of Jesus as Lord of all. The third gift, but by no means the least, was myrrh. Myrrh was a perfume that was put on dead bodies to make them smell better, and this gift was a premonition of the best gift that God has ever given us: that His perfect Son would suffer and die for us so that our sins would be forgiven.

iPhones, designer clothes and expensive jewelry were not among the gifts that Jesus was given.

When did Christmas become this way? When did it become a commercialized, materialistic holiday? It became this way the day you stopped believing.

No, no, no. I don't mean the day you stopped believing in Santa Claus or St. Nicholas or Father Christmas. I mean the day when you starting believing in your Christmas traditions more than you kept believing in the reason for celebrating Christmas.

Christmas is a holiday that should be filled with joy. This joy should not be the kind of joy that comes from opening up a new gaming system on Christmas morning, but the joy that was heard throughout history on that first Christmas: that the Son of God was born to us so that, one day, he would die on a cross and be resurrected again to save us from sin and death. This day should be filled with the resounding joy of those who came thousands of years before you, who rejoiced the morning that Christ was born because it meant that the Savior that God had promised since Genesis had finally come to earth. This is where the true joy of Christmas lies, not in getting the next big thing. It is about the celebration of Christ's birth, not in the traditions that we created because of it.

The day you stopped believing in the truth of this day–in the joy of this day–is The Day that Christmas Died. The day that you pouted because you were given a gift you didn't want is The Day that Christmas Died. The day that you lost the wonder and awe of Christmas is The Day that Christmas Died.

As made popular by Don McLean, The Day the Music Died references a specific date in history when famed rock n' roll musicians Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J.P. Richardson were killed in a tragic plane crash. February 3, 1959 claimed the lives of these men, plus a few others, and was forever seen as a mark in history as the end of a musical era.

The Day that Christmas Died is not a specific date in history. There is no remarkable death to mark this day, and there isn't any great physical catastrophe to set this day apart from others. The Day that Christmas died is the day you stopped believing.

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be upon his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David's throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the LORD Almighty will accomplish this." — Isaiah 9:6-7