By Oyewole O. Sarumi
As the planet tilts on its axis away from the sun, a significant portion of humanity tilts toward a frenzy of consumption, celebration, and sensory overload.
From the sun-drenched beaches of Lagos to the frost-dusted shopping boulevards of New York, the period from October through December undergoes a metamorphosis. It becomes “Detty December,” “the Holiday Season,” “Navidad”, a globalized, multi-trillion-dollar festival of light, sound, and expenditure.
Yet, beneath the shimmering veneer of this annual bacchanal lies a profound and painful irony: a celebration ostensibly rooted in the commemoration of the birth of Jesus Christ has, in many quarters, become an exercise in his conspicuous absence.
The very name “Christmas” is eviscerated, reduced to “Xmas” or sublimated into a generic “holiday” cheer, while its central figure is often left out in the cold, a silent, swaddled ghost at his own party.
This article posits that the modern December experience represents a grand, global disconnect. We have perfected the art of the Christmas present, curating gifts, experiences, and Instagrammable moments, while growing increasingly deaf to the longing for the divine presence that the season was meant to herald.
We will journey through the spectacle of consumption, from the specific cultural phenomenon of Nigeria’s Detty December to the worldwide economic engine of the holidays. We will then dig into the theological heart of Christmas, the scandalous, beautiful truth of the Incarnation, where God became Emmanuel, “God with us.”
Finally, we will confront the tension between these two realities, asking whether our glittering, “detty” December, devoid of Christ’s substantive presence, can ever satisfy the deepest hunger of the human soul. The world may be spending trillions, but what it truly longs for is a gift that money cannot buy: the genuine, reconciling, and transformative presence of Christ.
The Anatomy of a “Detty December”: Spectacle, Spending, and the Sacred Sublimated
The term “Detty December,” emerging from West Africa but emblematic of a global mindset, is a masterclass in linguistic subversion. “Dirty” here is stripped of moralistic overtones and rebranded as a positive, a synonym for unrestrained enjoyment, for “letting loose,” for a hedonistic release valve after months of pressure.
It’s a time when cities like Lagos transform into “a carnival hub, its roads jammed and its nights loud with music.” The diaspora returns, wallets primed, fueling an economy of exclusivity where bottle service and VIP tables see prices inflate as quickly as the party balloons.
This is not mere celebration; it is a meticulously curated, commercialized ecosystem. Events like the Calabar Carnival, Flytime Fest, and Palmwine Music Festival are no longer simple gatherings; they are branded experiences, competing to be “bigger, flashier and more memorable than the last.”
The planning is military in its precision, with salon appointments booked months in advance, as noted by Kuku’s Hair salon closing for half of January to recover. As tourism expert Ikechi Uko observes, this is an organic, people-driven economy, but one that has been rapidly capitalized upon. The Lagos State government’s reported $71.6 million in revenue from the 2024 season is a testament to its formidable fiscal footprint.
Current retail and market research indicate that total global holiday-season spending, including Christmas, New Year, and other year-end consumption, ranges between $1 trillion and $1.3 trillion annually.
The United States alone accounts for close to $1 trillion in November–December retail sales in strong years, while Europe and Asia contribute significant but smaller shares. Africa’s contribution, though growing, remains marginal by comparison.
Analysts like Deloitte and the National Retail Federation routinely track holiday spending in the hundreds of billions for the United States alone. The world truly does engage in a collective shopping spree, a festival of materialism where the pressure to give (and receive) the perfect gift often overshadows any spiritual reflection.
The satire here is thick and tragic. The season that marks the birth of a child laid in a feeding trough, whose mother “wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7), has been inverted.
Now, the driving imperative is to secure a place at the most exclusive inn, to be seen in the right club, to flaunt the most luxurious brand. The humility of the Nativity is drowned out by the hubris of display. The sacred story of divine visitation is sublimated into a secular saga of vacation, visitation from abroad, and visceral entertainment. The “IJGBs” (I Just Got Backs) return with fanfare, while the profound narrative of The Return; God coming to His people, is often relegated to a quaint, half-remembered backdrop.
The Echo of Eden: Humanity’s Primal Longing for Presence
To understand the depth of this disconnect, we must journey back to the very beginning, to the core of the human condition as revealed in Scripture. The Christmas story does not start in Bethlehem; it starts in Genesis. The opening act of creation is not a distant, cold engineering feat but an intimate act of divine presence.
“The Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters” (Genesis 1:2). God walked in the garden “in the cool of the day” with Adam and Eve (Genesis 3:8). His presence was the environment of humanity’s flourishing. The deepest promise of the covenant was relational: “I will take you to be my people, and I will be your God” (Exodus 6:7).
Sin, however, enacted a brutal divorce. It introduced estrangement. Cast out from the Garden, humanity experienced what theologian John Sailhamer calls “the loss of the presence of God.”
This exile is not merely a physical relocation but a spiritual and relational chasm. The biblical narrative from Genesis 3 onward can be read as the story of a holy God’s determined mission to dwell again with a sinful people without compromising His holiness.
The tabernacle and later the temple were profound yet provisional answers, “a tent of meeting” where God’s glory would reside, and sacrifices would temporarily cover sin (Exodus 25:8, 29:42-46). But as God Himself queried through the prophet, “Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool; what is the house that you would build for me?” (Isaiah 66:1).
This ache for divine presence is not a uniquely Judeo-Christian theme; it is a human universal. As highlighted by Joseph Byamukama, African traditional narratives often speak of a “High God” who has withdrawn, with people resorting to complex systems of intermediaries; balubaale, emandwa, witch doctors, and spirits, to bridge the perceived gap.
This is a cultural echo of the Genesis fracture. The philosopher Blaise Pascal identified this void as a “God-shaped vacuum” in the human heart. Our frenetic December activity, the parties, the purchases, the pursuit of “vibes”, can be seen as a desperate, if misguided, attempt to fill that vacuum with noise, novelty, and stuff. We seek connection in crowds, validation in consumption, and transcendence in temporary euphoria, all the while yearning for the very Presence we are ignoring.
The Scandal of the Manger: When Presence Took on Flesh
This is what makes the Christmas message not just a nice story but a cosmic thunderclap. The birth of Jesus is the definitive, earth-shattering answer to humanity’s millennia-old cry and God’s eternal desire.
The prologue of John’s Gospel deliberately mirrors Genesis: “In the beginning was the Word… All things were made through him” (John 1:1, 3). Then comes the staggering declaration: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). The Greek verb for “dwelt” (skēnoō) literally means “to pitch a tent” or “to tabernacle.” God, in the second person of the Trinity, pitched his tent in our neighborhood. The temporary, localized presence of the tabernacle was now made permanent and personal in the person of Jesus Christ.
This is the Incarnation: the infinite condescended to the finite; the Creator became part of the creation; the Eternal entered time. As Derrick Ntambi’s reflection underscores, this was not Plan B. It was the fulfillment of the proto-evangelion in Genesis 3:15; the seed of the woman who would crush the serpent’s head.
He was the shoot from the stump of Jesse (Isaiah 11:1), the Son of David foretold (2 Samuel 7:12-13), the “Immanuel,” which means “God with us” (Matthew 1:23). In the vulnerable flesh of a newborn, wrapped not in royal silks but in peasant’s swaddling cloths, the unapproachable God became approachable. The intangible Spirit became tangible. The distant Judge became the proximate Savior.
The manger is the ultimate critique of Detty December’s values. God’s entrance was marked not by exclusivity but by humility; not by blaring advertisement but by angelic announcement to marginalized shepherds; not by the accumulation of wealth but by the surrender of heavenly glory (Philippians 2:6-7).
Jesus, as both fully God and fully man, is the perfect mediator; the one who, as the Athanasian formulation states, “became what we are to make us what he is.” He is the true and final “cultural reset,” not offering an escape from reality through partying, but a reconciliation with ultimate Reality through his atoning sacrifice. His body, as he later declared, was the true temple (John 2:19-21), the locus where sin would be dealt with and the presence of God fully restored for all who believe.
The Bitter Irony: Celebrating the Shell While Ignoring the Kernel
Herein lies the profound, satirical tragedy of our modern December. We have taken the outer shell of the Christmas season; the gift-giving (derived from the Magi), the feasting (echoing the celebration of a birth), the emphasis on light and joy (symbolic of Christ, the “light of the world”), and hollowed it out.
We celebrate the cultural artifacts while evicting the central Artisan. We drink to “good cheer” but forget the “good news of great joy” that was for all people (Luke 2:10). We seek “peace on earth” through holiday truces and festive greetings, while bypassing the Prince of Peace who alone can reconcile humanity to God and to each other (Isaiah 9:6).
The spending statistic, whether precisely $1trillion or a figure of similar magnitude, is a monument to this displacement. It represents a global investment in a feeling, a moment, an experience. Yet, as the Preacher in Ecclesiastes laments, this is “a striving after wind” (Ecclesiastes 1:14).
The hangover follows the party; the credit card statement arrives in January; the loneliness can feel sharper amidst the forced merriment. The “fantastic cultural reset” of a Detty December is, by its own admission, temporary, a “detox” from the grind that soon gives way to the grind again. It offers catharsis, but not redemption; distraction, not salvation.
Meanwhile, the gift of God’s presence in Christ offers something categorically different. It is not a temporary respite but an eternal reconciliation. It is not a commodity to be purchased but a relationship to be received by faith.
It does not promise a problem-free life but offers a sustaining Presence within life’s storms: “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5). The world, in its December frenzy, is like the Israelites in the wilderness, collecting manna that spoils by morning (Exodus 16:20), while the “bread of life” that endures to eternal life is offered freely (John 6:27, 35).
Beyond the Binary: A Path to Presence in a Party Season
This critique is not a puritanical call to cancel concerts, shun family meals, or dress in sackcloth throughout December. Celebration, gift-giving, and feasting are not inherently evil; they are God-given goods when oriented rightly. The problem is not the party per se; it is the telos, the ultimate goal and meaning of the party. The satire is aimed at a celebration that has lost its center, a feast that honors the guests while forgetting the Host.
The path forward is not necessarily to retreat from December’s cultural expressions but to ‘reorient them’. It is to inject the genuine presence of Christ back into the spaces from which He has been exiled. This requires intentionality:
- From Consumption to Communion: What if our gift-giving was less about obligation and extravagance and more a reflection of God’s gracious gift to us? What if we shared our tables not just with family and friends, but with the lonely, the poor, and the stranger, embodying the radically inclusive love Christ demonstrated?
- From Noise to Narrative: Amidst the playlist of party anthems, can we make space to hear and tell the old, old story? Can family traditions include reading the Nativity account, attending a church service that focuses on worship rather than spectacle, or using an Advent calendar that points daily toward the coming King?
- From Escape to Engagement: Rather than using the season solely as an escape from reality, can it be a time to engage more deeply with the reality of Christ’s love? This could mean serving at a shelter, forgiving a long-held grievance, or committing resources to a cause that aligns with God’s heart for justice and mercy.
- From “Vibes” to Worship: The “collective energy” of a concert is a pale shadow of the collective worship of the Church universal, past, present, and future, celebrating the Lamb who was slain. True joy is not found in the transient euphoria of a crowd but in the settled assurance of being part of Christ’s eternal family.
For many, Christmas remains a powerful time of returning to ancestral homes and reconnecting with family, a beautiful metaphor for the deeper return God offers us in Christ. Our true “ancestral home” is the presence of God from which we wandered. Christmas is the annual, jubilant reminder that the way home has been opened.
The Uninvited Guest Who Is the Host
And so, as the planet spins through another December, the dichotomy remains. In Lagos, Accra, London, and New York, the lights will blaze, the music will pound, and fortunes will be spent in pursuit of the perfect “detty” experience.
It is a glittering, global pageant of human seeking. Yet, in the quiet, often-ignored corners of the story, in the humble hearts that kneel at the manger, in the simple acts of love, in the churches that sing “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”, a different reality is acknowledged and celebrated.
The satire of our age is that we have thrown the world’s largest birthday party for someone we’ve neglected to invite. We hang decorations inspired by his story but remove his name from the greeting cards. We spend trillions in his seasonal economy while investing little in knowing his heart.
Yet, the hope of Christmas is that the guest of honor needs no formal invitation. The God who took on flesh is the God who stands at the door and knocks (Revelation 3:20). His presence is not contingent on our perfect observance, but offered through his perfect grace. The genuine, life-giving presence of Christ our Lord remains the answer to the world’s deepest longing, a silent, steadfast reality beneath the December din.
The challenge, and the opportunity, for a weary world is to pause amidst the revelry, to quiet the noise, and to rediscover the simple, scandalous, and saving truth: that in the city of David, a Savior was born. He is Christ the Lord. And he is, miraculously, still with us. Prof. Sarumi, a pastor and bible scholar, writes from Lagos
