THE GOSPEL IN MUSIC — THE GREATEST CHRISTMAS SONGS OF ALL TIME (PART THREE)
Some Christmas songs feel like doctrine set to melody; others feel like testimony—truth learned the hard way, sung gently so it can be received. These are not hymns, yet they preach. They do not quote Scripture, yet they lean on it—sometimes without even knowing its name.
“This Christmas” — Donny Hathaway.
This is joy that has passed through grief and come out warmer on the other side. Not naïve celebration, but seasoned gladness—love promised with scars still visible. It sounds like light that knows what darkness feels like and shines anyway (John 1:5). For many of us, this song is Christmas.
“Silver Bells” — Elvis Presley.
Elvis slows Christmas down. The bells do not rush; they walk the streets. There is tenderness here—an awareness that holiness often hides in ordinary places, city sidewalks and quiet moments (Luke 2:7).
“There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays” — Perry Como.
Few songs understand the ache beneath the season like this one. Home is not always perfect—but it is longed for. And that longing is deeply Christian; it reminds us that even our best homes are signposts pointing toward a better country (Hebrews 11:13-16).
“The Little Drummer Boy” — Bing Crosby.
This is the gospel sung by empty hands. No speech, no offering, no résumé—only what is already there. And the Child receives it gladly. Grace has always loved the poor gift offered honestly (2 Corinthians 8:9).
“If We Make It Through December” — Merle Haggard.
This is Christmas without tinsel—faith tested by bills, layoffs, and tired hearts. Yet hope still breathes. Perseverance becomes its own prayer; endurance its own hymn (Romans 8:18).
“White Christmas” — Bing Crosby.
A song of memory and yearning. It does not demand that the present be perfect—it remembers goodness and waits for its return. In that waiting, it quietly joins Christmas’s ancient cry (Isaiah 9:6).
“Christmas Time Is Here” — Vince Guaraldi Trio.
Hope and fear side by side—just like Bethlehem. The melody knows that joy often arrives trembling, and peace sometimes comes softly (Luke 2:10-14).
“Joy to the World” — Aretha Franklin.
This is not background music—it is proclamation. Aretha does not decorate the song; she announces it. The joy here is cosmic, defiant, unashamed—creation answering its King (Psalm 98:4-6).
“Do You Hear What I Hear?” — Whitney Houston.
This is Christmas as revelation—rumor becoming truth, whisper becoming proclamation. A question turns into a confession, just as it always does when heaven interrupts earth (Matthew 2:9-11).
“Merry Christmas Strait to You” — George Strait.
Plainspoken, faithful, unpretentious. Like a front-porch benediction. Sometimes Christmas sounds like steadiness—love that stayed (Lamentations 3:22–23).
“Santa Looked a Lot Like Daddy” — Buck Owens.
A song of laughter and love, reminding us that joy is not unspiritual. God entered family life, silliness and all. Grace often wears a smile (Ecclesiastes 3:4).
These songs remind us that Christmas does not demand perfection—only presence. Christ did not wait for the world to be ready; He entered it while it was still weary. And somehow, the music remembers.
BDD
