(An excerpt from the book Full of Grace and Truth: The Biblical Roots of Christmas)

Every December, conversations about Christmas seem to flare up again—both joyful and skeptical. Some celebrate it as the heart of the Christian story; others question its origins or even reject it as a “borrowed” pagan holiday.

Yet behind all the noise lies a deeper mystery.

The mystery of the beginning of things is always deep. But the mystery of Christmas is deeper still: that the Maker of the world should be born into it.
– G. K. Chesterton

For many believers, the issue isn’t whether Christ’s birth is worth celebrating, the question is this:  Where did our Christmas traditions come from? And more urgently: Were they borrowed from paganism?

The question of the origins of Christmas is an honest concern. In an age where search engines and social media serve up half-truths faster than we can fact-check them, it is no surprise that many sincere Christians feel uneasy. Claims of Roman festivals, pagan gods, and cultural compromise swirl through YouTube videos and Instagram feeds, often clothed in the language of pseudo-scholarship but lacking historical substance.

Yet when we look closer—guided by Scripture, by history, and by the witness of the early church—a very different picture emerges. The story of Christmas isn’t that of a borrowed myth, but of a deliberate celebration, born from the conviction that the Incarnation is a highlight of God’s redemptive plan. Early believers sought to honor it with reverence, not superstition.

Let’s trace the story of Christmas: how the early church approached it, how traditions blossomed across cultures, and how Western customs took shape. Along the way, we’ll confront the charge that Christmas is a “pagan holiday” and uncover how, at its heart, Christmas has always been what it proclaims to be—a joyful confession that “the Word became flesh” (John 1:14).

The Dawning of the Christmas Holiday

The New Testament never commands us to celebrate Christ’s birth, nor does it provide the precise date. And yet, from the earliest days of the church, believers revered the miracle of the Incarnation. They knew that the birth of Jesus was no ordinary moment in history—it was the hinge on which the entire redemptive story turns.

One sign of this is found in the Gospels themselves. Matthew and Luke, writing under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, open the story of Jesus with nativity narratives—angelic messengers splitting the night sky, shepherds startled on Judean hillsides, a virgin mother and a faithful carpenter, a child laid in a manger, and a multitude of the heavenly host praising God for the newborn King.

In the ancient world, biographers rarely lingered on a birth unless it signaled destiny. By highlighting the nativity of Jesus, the evangelists made a theological claim: the arrival of this Child was not incidental but essential. He was the fulfillment of Israel’s long-awaited hope (Isa 7:14; Mic 5:2). The very inclusion of these narratives is itself evidence that the earliest Christians already viewed Christ’s birth as worthy of proclamation, meditation, and celebration.

As the church matured in the second to fourth centuries, leaders reflected more deeply on the meaning of the nativity. Their aim wasn’t to mimic surrounding cultures but to confess, through worship and remembrance, that the living God Himself had stepped into creation. The birth of Jesus wasn’t seen as a peripheral curiosity but as the gateway to the Gospel.

Writings from figures such as Clement of Alexandria and Hippolytus of Rome show that early believers pondered the Incarnation with awe.[1] They treated it as cosmic Christology—the moment when the eternal “Second Adam” entered the fallen world to reverse the curse of the first Adam. From such reflection grew the impulse to establish a feast in honor of the Incarnation—not because they were commanded to, but because they couldn’t remain silent.

Whether marked on December 25, January 6 (or any other date), the purpose was always the same: to remember and rejoice—through Scripture, prayer, and song—that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. The question of when to celebrate arose later; the question of whether to celebrate was already settled.

Why December 25?

Some object to the celebration of Christmas on December 25, pointing out that we don’t know the exact day Jesus was born. And that’s true, we don’t. And since Scripture doesn’t specify a date, there is—biblically speaking—no right or wrong day to mark the miracle of the Incarnation. In fact, the absence of a commanded date leaves room for intentional worship.

“One person considers one day more sacred than another; another considers every day alike. Each of them should be fully convinced in their own mind. Whoever regards one day as special does so to the Lord.”
– Romans 14:5–6a

For the early church, the question wasn’t about imitating pagan customs; it was about proclaiming Christ to the world. The Light of the World had come, and they chose a day to say so.

By the early third century, Hippolytus of Rome (c. AD 200) suggested December 25 as the date of Jesus’ birth.[2] His reasoning was symbolic, rooted in what some early Christians called the “integral age” tradition: the belief that prophets lived in complete life cycles, dying on the same date as either their birth or conception. Since the death of Jesus was believed to have occurred on March 25, Hippolytus concluded that this was also the date of His conception. Nine months later—December 25—He would have been born.

Clement of Alexandria, writing even earlier, mentioned Christians of his day attempting to calculate Jesus’s birth based on similar ideas.[3] Though speculative, these reflections arose not from Roman mythology but from a desire to honor the Incarnation with theological coherence.

By the mid-fourth century, we find firm evidence of December 25 as a liturgical feast. A Roman document known as the Chronograph of 354 records under that date: “Birth of Christ in Bethlehem of Judea.”[4] Here we see the Church formally commemorating Christ’s nativity with worship, Scripture, and song.

Contrary to modern myths, this choice wasn’t an effort to “Christianize” a pagan festival. The early church stood firmly against all forms of paganism. Their goal wasn’t syncretism but distinction. December 25 became their chosen day to proclaim that the true Light had entered the world—and that’s what they celebrated.

So, in the end, the question of origins doesn’t lead us not to pagan altars but to a manger in Bethlehem. The earliest Christians celebrated not compromise but conviction—that in Jesus Christ, God Himself had entered history.

And that is the true origin of Christmas.

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[1] Early Christian writers like Clement of Alexandria and Hippolytus of Rome reflected deeply on the Incarnation, offering theological insights into the mystery of Christ’s birth. Clement emphasized Christ as the divine Logos made flesh, illuminating the world with truth and grace (cf. Protrepticus, ch. 1). Hippolytus, in his Refutation of All Heresies (Book 10), affirmed the miraculous birth of the Messiah as fulfillment of prophetic promises.

[2] Around AD 200, Hippolytus of Rome wrote that Jesus was born on December 25, mentioning it directly in his Commentary on Daniel (4.23.3). Later scholars, like T.C. Schmidt, suggest he likely arrived at that date by starting with March 25—the traditional date of Jesus’s conception—and simply counting nine months forward. It’s one of the earliest written references connecting Christmas to that day.

[3] Clement of Alexandria, writing near the end of the 2nd century, noted that some Christians in his time were already trying to figure out the exact date of Jesus’s birth. In his Stromateis (1.21), he even mentioned a few guesses—like April 19 or May 20—based on various calculations. Clement himself suggested November 18 as a possibility. It shows that early believers were curious and eager to understand the timeline of Jesus’s life, even if they didn’t all agree on the details.

[4] Chronograph of 354, also known as the Philocalian Calendar, compiled by Furius Dionysius Filocalus. The notation “natus Christus in Betleem Iudeae” (“Birth of Christ in Bethlehem of Judea”) appears in the Depositio Martyrum section under December 25. See T. C. Schmidt, “Chronograph of 354 AD,” The Text of the Earliest Roman Calendar