Does Christmas have pagan origins?
Header Image: Photo by Ben White on Unsplash
For most people, the question of the origins of Christmas is probably far from their minds. Some may recognise and give a cursory glance towards the Biblical narrative on the birth of Jesus as something to do with it (although a 2017 study showed that almost 1 in 20 Brits thought Easter was the birth of Jesus!);—but in some Christian circles the question (accusation?) that “Christmas is pagan” is at the forefront of their minds.
Table of Contents
As time goes on and we move further and further into the future, away from the initial events of the first Nativity, the festival of Christmas has morphed into something altogether different than how the first Christians recognised and celebrated it (if they even did).
We know from historical records and study now that a lot of what has been incorporated into the festivities surrounding Christmas does have pagan origins, but does that make the holiday itself still pagan today? Are you inadvertently worshipping “the birthday of the Unconquered Sun” (Dies Natalis Solis Invicti) when you celebrate on the 25th of December?
Let’s trace a little bit of history and see how the early church viewed these festivals, as they were still happening in full force whilst the Church was still young and were a contemporary concern, and what date they pinned the birth of Christ on to.
Much of the earliest references to the Nativity occur in a passing way as a commentary on the event rather than anything celebratory about it. Justin Martyr in his First Apology (~160 AD) mentions that Jesus was born 150 years before him, in the time of Quirinius (or Cyrenius as some translations have it – cf. Luke 2:2), where his readers could “ascertain also from the registers” the accuracy of his statement. Tertullian (197 AD) also references this census as a place where “Mary is described”, in which New Testament scholar W. M. Ramsey saw as proof that Tertullian at least, had access to documents which we no longer do. Origen (~248 AD) even mentions that in his own day, “there is displayed at Bethlehem the cave where Jesus was born”, and that “this sight is greatly talked of in the surrounding places—even among the enemies of the faith” (now known as The Church of the Nativity)!
The first person we see write about a specific date of the birth is Clement of Alexandria around 195 AD in book one of The Stromata, and he speaks about others who have tried to pinpoint the exact day and month of Jesus’ birth, which brings up a variety of dates:
From the birth of Christ, therefore, to the death of Commodus [December 192 AD] are, in all, a hundred and ninety-four years, one month, thirteen days [18th November]. And there are those who have determined not only the year of our Lord's birth, but also the day; and they say that it took place in the twenty-eighth year of Augustus, and in the twenty-fifth day of Pachon [20th May]. And the followers of Basilides hold the day of his baptism as a festival, spending the night before in readings. […] Further, others say that He was born on the twenty-fourth or twenty-fifth of Pharmuthi [19/20th April]. — Clement of Alexandria, 195 AD
So from this quote, we have Clement calculating the birth of Christ to around the 18th of November, 2 BC by our calendar today, and others still who he mentions have worked it out to be around April or May time. He also mentions other people who placed the date of birth on January 6th in 2 or 3 BC, which for any liturgical people reading this, will recognise as another important date in the Christian calendar (we'll come back to this date later).
Keeping and celebrating birthdays was a very Roman thing to do, so it’s no surprise that earlier Christians from a more Jewish heritage didn’t see any importance on marking the exact day and month that Jesus was born, as it was his death and resurrection which held a far greater importance and cause for celebration. Easter was really the first major festival of the Church in its early years over and above anything else that came to be recognised.
The next real reference to Jesus’ birth being on the date we are more familiar with, comes from an important early theologian called Hippolytus of Rome, around the year 220 AD, in his Commentary on Daniel:
For the first advent of our Lord in the flesh, when he was born in Bethlehem, eight days before the kalends of January [December 25th], the 4th day of the week [Wednesday], while Augustus was in his forty-second year, [2 or 3 BC] but from Adam five thousand and five hundred years. He suffered in the thirty third year, 8 days before the kalends of April [March 25th], the Day of Preparation, the fifteenth year of Tiberius Caesar [29 or 30 AD], while Rufus and Roubellion and Gaius Caesar, for the 4th time, and Gaius Cestius Saturninus were Consuls. — Hippolytus, ~220 AD
The text from where this quote is found has an interesting history, as it appears to be from a later text in the tenth century which may point back to an earlier reliable witness, but this date could be an interpolation. Though how or where Hippoylytus got this date from (if he did in fact write this), I am unsure, and it’s quite telling that this is the only fragment from this period to put this date on the Nativity when contemporaries of Hippolytus (such as Tertullian et al.) are strangely quiet about it.
Up until this point in history, if we accept Hippolytus’ excerpt as genuine, there has been no mention of Jesus’ birth on December 25th specifically except for that one time. And even then, the quotes from Early Fathers so far have merely been speculation about the time and date for information’s sake really, with no mention of it being a celebrated event.
When was December 25th celebrated?
December was already a period of festivities in the Roman Empire for a variety of reasons, one such event being Saturnalia. This was a festival in honour of the god Saturn and was held on December 17th originally, but later extended to the 23rd. It involved gift giving and feasting, so you can see where some of those influences still appear today!
Early Christians spoke against the pagan festivals of the day, and usually just lumped them all together in their criticisms, as the end of the year/beginning of the next had a few different events going on, similar in some ways to our own day. Tertullian was most vocal about it all, and had some harsh words for those Christians who did get caught up in all of the parties going on around them! Have a look at the quote below and see what practices sound familiar even now in 2019:
On your day of gladness, we [Christians] neither cover our doorposts with wreaths, nor intrude upon the day with lamps. At the call of public festivity, you consider it a proper thing to decorate your house like some new brothel …. [The Romans] clad their doorposts with green and branching laurels. They smoked up their porches with lofty and brilliant lamps. —Tertullian, ~197 AD
Any of that seem familiar: wreaths, decorations, greenery, lights, feasting and gifts? It would appear our modern Christmas celebrations owe much to second century Roman festivals — with one key difference: we aren’t celebrating these things today as a sacrifice or in honour of Caesar or one of the Roman gods. This is why such festivals (and those who frequented them—Christians included) were spoken against so much by early Christian leaders, as their intent was a completely different focus.
What less of a defamation does he incur on that ground than does a business … that is publicly consecrated to an idol? The Minervalia are as much Minerva’s as the Saturnalia is Saturn’s … likewise, New Year’s gifts must be caught at. The Septimontium must be kept. And all the presents of Midwinter and the Feast of Dear Kinsmanship must be exacted … The same thing takes place on an idol’s birthday. Every ceremony of the devil is frequented. Who will think that these things are befitting to a Christian teacher? —Tertullian, ~200 AD
As you can see from the various festivals listed (which happened throughout the year), all were considered as pagan worship and giving honour to idols and the devil. Tertullian, again, had even stronger words for those Christians who did get involved in the pagan celebrations out of a misguided attempt to avoid unbelievers blaspheming God by their inaction. Yet Tertullian goes on to make the point that Christians have their own calendar with certain days which are recognised (Pascha/Easter and Passover) and that even pagans wouldn’t keep those in case they were mistaken to be Christians too, so why would Christians follow in the pagan traditions dedicated to idols?
We may not join in their feasts, which are celebrated in honour of demons. — Apostolic Constitutions, ~390 AD
The Christian Calendar
So what was this calendar which Tertullian mentioned? Well, it was something fairly well-established before this point in time, as Christians had been celebrating Easter (or Pascha) and Pentecost pretty much since the birth of the Church.
If the apostle has erased all devotion absolutely of “seasons, days, months and years”, why do we celebrate Easter by an annual rotation in the first month? Why in the fifty ensuing days do we spend our time in all exultation? Why do we … [fast on] the Preparation Day [i.e. Good Friday]? — Tertullian, 213 AD
We can see from at least the second century, Christians had fixed times of the year which were kept for certain celebrations around the resurrection, Passover and Pentecost — celebrations which were surely older than the time of Tertullian writing about them as matter-of-factly as he does.
Origen, writing a few decades later around 248 AD, mentions the feast days of the Church that are kept by all believers showing that these customs were fairly central to the worship of the early Christians. I know that some people say we don’t, or shouldn’t, need special days to celebrate Jesus as he is always with us by his Holy Spirit within us etc., and there is truth to that sentiment; Origen would even agree, but he also gives a reason as to why we keep fixed days for specific events:
We ourselves are accustomed to observe certain days. For example, there is the Lord’s Day, the Preparation, Easter and Pentecost … However, the majority of those who are accounted believers are not of this advanced class [i.e., those who focus on Christ every day]. Rather, they require some sensible memorials to prevent spiritual things from passing completely away from their minds. — Origen, ~248 AD
As you can see, the reason for keeping special days of celebration is in fact for the benefit of those Christians who may not focus on Christ so much all the time and need some type of regular reminders and big points in time to recenter themselves in their faith.
It’s really towards the end of the fourth century that we see a more detailed and defined Church Calendar, and one which specifically includes a Christmas date:
Brethren, observe the festival days. First of all, there is the birthday that you are to celebrate on the twenty-fifth of the ninth month [December]. After that, let the Epiphany be to you the most honoured, in which the Lord made to you a display of His own divinity. And let that feast take place on the sixth of the tenth month [January]. After that, the fast of Lent is to be observed by you as containing a memorial of our Lord’s manner of life and teaching. But let this solemnity be observed before the fast of Easter, beginning from the second day of the week and ending at the Day of the Preparation. After those solemnities, breaking your fast, begin the holy week of Easter, all of you fasting in this week with fear and trembling. — Apostolic Constitutions ~390 AD
Much of what is instructed here hasn’t changed at all since the fourth century, which is amazing in itself, I find. There were (and still are) some differences on dates between the Eastern and Western churches, as the Roman Empire obviously had a great deal of influence in the West, especially with the Romans creating the Julian calendar which affected the days and months of the years. In the East, the Church celebrated and developed the Epiphany festival on January 6th which was to commemorate the baptism and birth of Jesus together. Even now, Orthodox and Coptic Churches still follows the Julian dating system for church festivals, and so celebrate Christmas on the (Gregorian) 7th of January as this date would have been the Julian December 25th. It was only in the West where the two events were separated and that Epiphany focused on the visit of the Magi at the birth of Christ instead of his baptism.
John Chrysostom gave a sermon in Antioch on December 20th, 386 AD which gives us a nice insight into how the Christmas date and celebration began to develop more:
For from this feast [that is, the Nativity], the Theophany and the holy Pascha and the Ascension and the Pentecost take their origin and foundation, for if Christ had not been born according to the flesh, he could not have been baptised, which is the Theophany; he could not have been crucified, which is the Pascha; he could not have sent the Spirit, which is the Pentecost.
We see here that the reason for celebrating the Nativity flows logically out of the recognition of the other events of Jesus’ life which were remembered — but still we don’t really see why the twenty-fifth was chosen in the end. Chrysostom’s next sermon, five days later, give us another insight to how this Nativity festival began to spread.
And really, this date of Christ’s birth has been manifest and known to us less than ten years…This, which has been known from of old to the inhabitants of the West and has now been brought to us, not many years ago, is suddenly growing and bringing fruit.
From these quotes, we learn two things specifically: firstly, it appears that the celebration of Christ’s birth as a defined event only really took hold in the East before 386 AD and had only been around there for “less than ten years”. The second thing, is that Chrysostom says that this tradition of celebrating on the 25th of December was a tradition “known from of old” by the Western Church, hinting that the date was known much earlier than some of our written records may say, or that it was a contender for the assumed date when earlier Christians were trying to calculate it. One other theory for the December date is that it occurs nine months after “the Annunciation” (when Gabriel announced to Mary that she would conceive) which is celebrated on the 25th of March, and is a feast day which dates back to the fourth or fifth century too.
Concluding Thoughts
To conclude this study on Christmas, I hope that it has become clear that the timing of the Christmas celebration date is far more complex and involved than the rather simplistic view that early Christians just wanted to replace other pagan festivals, and slapped a new one on top of an older festival!
The idea of even being remotely associated with these ungodly festivals was repugnant to the early church — hence Tertullian’s many strong words against those believers who were swayed by the festivities, and other later texts saying that these other festivals are all in honour of demons. No, these dates and celebrations which arose around the birth of Christ, the visit of the Magi, the Annunciation etc, all came about independently of the Roman celebrations which appear more circumstantial than anything else.
A lot of our other Christmas themes and trappings may be hangovers from a bygone Roman Empire, but the remembrance and celebrations of the incarnation within the Church body were certainly more rooted in a God-honouring and Biblically-minded fashion for worship, than anything else that is often assumed about it.
I hope that you now, armed with this knowledge, will go forth and have a very merry Christmas.
Bonus Information
Saying “Xmas” isn't taking Christ out of Christmas; the Χ is actually the Greek letter Chi which is the first letter of “Christ” in Greek (Χριστός) and so the “Xmas” is simply an ancient shorthand word, nothing nefarious about it! See also: Who was the real Santa Claus?
Fun fact about New Year's Day:
It didn't really exist as a thing until Julius Caesar changed the calendar to add in a new month called "January" in honour of the god Janus. Janus was a god of new beginnings and such like things, with two faces looking into the past and future which is where new year resolutions are thought to come from as a way of asking the god to help or make promises to him. January 1st was the day of honour for the Janus celebration.
The Biblical new year, if you want to call it that, is around April by our modern calendar:
Exodus 12:2 (WEB)
This month (Abib/Nisan) shall be to you the beginning of months. It shall be the first month of the year to you.
Further Reading & Sources
- https://www.eauk.org/culture/statistics/christmas-facts-and-quotes.cfm
- https://www.dec25th.info/Textual%20Tradition%20of%20Hippolytus%20Commentary%20on%20Daniel.html
- https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/christmas-jesus-christ-birthday-25-december-brits-ignorant-nativity-christianity-bethlehem-a8094496.html
- Evans, C. F. “TERTULLIAN'S REFERENCES TO SENTIUS SATURNINUS AND THE LUKAN CENSUS.” The Journal of Theological Studies, vol. 24, no. 1, 1973, pp. 24–39. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/23959449.
- Justin Martyr: https://patristics.info/justin-martyr-first-apology.html#Chapter_XXXIV_Place_of_Christs_birth_foretold (ch. 34 & 46)
- Tertullian: http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/0308.htm (ch. 9)
- Clement of Alexandria: http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/02101.htm (ch. 21)
- http://www.csun.edu/~hcfll004/jesuvita.html
- On Christmas: http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/03724b.htm
- https://www.ccel.org/ccel/hippolytus
- https://www.bbc.co.uk/religion/religions/christianity/holydays/epiphany.shtml
- https://www.whychristmas.com/customs/25th.shtml
- Annunciation: http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/01541c.htm
- https://www.franciscanmedia.org/annunciation-of-the-lord/
- https://www.theopedia.com/incarnation-of-the-son-of-god
- https://www.livescience.com/20987-jesus-birthplace-church-nativity.html
- https://reformedforum.org/the-origin-of-the-church-calendar/
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The Christmas tree is one of the most recognisable symbols of the festive season, adorning homes, churches, and public spaces with its evergreen beauty. But where did this tradition originate, and how did it become a central feature of Christmas celebrations? Looking into the history of the Christmas tree has turned out to be a fascinating historical story woven from various cultural and theological strands. The Paradise Tree and the Feast of Adam and Eve The connection between the Christmas tree and the Feast of Adam and Eve offers a large clue into its origins. In medieval Europe, December 24th was observed as the feast day of Adam and Eve, a commemoration tied to their expulsion from Eden. One of the most notable elements of this feast was the “Paradise Tree,” used in mystery plays and home displays to symbolise the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden. These trees, typically evergreen, were decorated with apples to represent the forbidden fruit and wafers symbolising the Eucharist. This imagery reflected both humanity’s fall into sin and God’s redemptive plan through Christ. The Paradise Tree served as a visual catechism of sorts, teaching the story of salvation from the Fall to the Redemption. In a later tradition the wafers were replaced by cookies of various shapes, and candles, symbolic of Jesus as the light of the world, were often added to the trees. Pre-Christian Traditions and the Evergreen Evergreens have long been associated with life and resilience in the darkest days of winter. In pre-Christian European traditions, evergreen boughs were used during festivals like the Roman Saturnalia and the Germanic Yule. These practices celebrated the endurance of life through the cold and darkness, offering hope of the spring to come. While these customs were not inherently Christian, they provided a cultural framework that could be adapted to Christian theology. The evergreen tree, in this context, became a symbol of eternal life in Christ, as suggested by John 10:28: “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish.” Martin Luther and the Candlelit Tree A significant figure in the history of the Christmas tree is the Reformer Martin Luther. According to tradition, Luther was struck by the beauty of a starry winter sky shining through the branches of an evergreen tree. To share this moment of wonder with his family, he brought a tree into his home and decorated it with candles to represent Christ as the “Light of the World” (John 8:12). While this story is likely apocryphal, it reflects the theological connection Christians saw in the evergreen tree as a symbol of Christ’s enduring presence and light in the darkness. Luther’s influence in Protestant Germany may have helped popularise the use of Christmas trees in Christian households. The Spread of the Christmas Tree The tradition of the Christmas tree gained popularity in Germany during the 16th and 17th centuries. By the 18th and 19th centuries, German immigrants brought the custom to other parts of Europe and North America. One pivotal moment in its wider adoption was the depiction of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert around a decorated Christmas tree in an illustration published in the Illustrated London News in 1848. This royal endorsement sparked a surge in the tradition’s popularity, particularly in Britain, where it came to symbolise the domestic warmth and joy of the holiday season. Prince Albert, Queen Victoria, and the British royal family gathered around the Christmas tree at Windsor Castle, from the Illustrated London News, 1848. Source: Britannica St. Boniface and the Sacred Oak One of the most compelling narratives about the Christmas tree’s origins involves St. Boniface, an English missionary whose evangelistic efforts in 8th-century Germany played a pivotal role in shaping this enduring custom. According to tradition, Boniface encountered a group of pagans venerating an oak tree dedicated to Thor, the Norse ...
Luke J. Wilson | 29th December 2025 | Christmas
January 6th marks the day in the liturgical calendar when the arrival of the Magi visiting baby Jesus with their gifts is celebrated. But with it comes the often distressing account of what is known as the Massacre of the Innocents. Matthew places this moment of revelation of Jesus as King alongside one of the darkest episodes in his Gospel, and it’s a stark contrast: one King is here to bring peace on earth, as the angels declared, the other king brought death and destruction. For some readers, this raises an immediate historical question. If Herod truly ordered the killing of all the male children under two in Bethlehem, why does no other ancient historian mention it? Josephus, after all, delights in cataloguing Herod’s cruelty. He records the execution of Herod’s wife, his sons, and numerous political rivals. Herod was paranoid and vicious. As for Herod, if he had before any doubt about the slaughter of his sons, there was now no longer any room left in his soul for it; but he had banished away whatsoever might afford him the least suggestion of reasoning better about this matter, so he already made haste to bring his purpose to a conclusion. He also brought out three hundred of the officers that were under an accusation … whom the multitude stoned with whatsoever came to hand, and thereby slew them. — Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews 16.11.7 So, why the silence here about Bethlehem? The answer, I would say, isn’t anything nefarious or made-up by Matthew, but just something simply down to scale. Bethlehem Was a Very Small Place Bethlehem in the early first century was not a city. It was a village — small, agricultural, and politically insignificant. Most historians estimate its population at somewhere between 300 and 1,000 people, with around 500 being a sensible midpoint. Once we factor in ancient demographics, the numbers become surprisingly modest. Modern demographic research into pre-industrial societies consistently shows that nearly half of all children died before adulthood, with the highest concentration of deaths occurring in the first two years of life. These findings align closely with conditions in Roman-period Judea and support conservative estimates for the number of infants living in a small village such as Bethlehem. Source: Mortality in the past: every second child died — Our World in Data In pre-modern societies with high infant mortality, only about 2–3% of the population would be living children under the age of two at any given time. Many children were born; far fewer survived those earliest years. Applying a conservative 2.5% figure to Bethlehem gives us roughly: 7–8 children under two in a village of 300 12–13 children under two in a village of 500 25 children under two even at the extreme upper estimate of 1,000 inhabitants Herod’s order, however, targeted male children only. Statistically, that halves the number. This places the likely number of victims somewhere between three and twelve boys. Matthew’s reference to ‘Bethlehem and the surrounding region’ does slightly widen the scope of Herod’s order, but not by enough to change the demographic picture. Even when nearby settlements are included (e.g. farmsteads, shepherd settlements, etc. not major cities/towns), the total number of children under two likely remained in the dozens rather than the hundreds, maybe anywhere between 14–45 boys maximum if we make an educated estimate. This is entirely consistent with what we know of population size and infant mortality in the ancient world. This is an important number to realise and consider. Not because the deaths are insignificant simply due to being so few, but because ancient historians did not record history the way we do now. A small number of peasant children killed in an obscure village would not have registered as a notable event alongside palace intrigue, royal executions, or political upheaval. For Josephus, it wou...
Luke J. Wilson | 13th December 2025 | Christmas
How can God beget a Son? Does that mean Jesus is His creation? This question comes sharply into focus during Advent, when the Church contemplates the Incarnation: the eternal Son entering the world as a baby in Mary’s womb. And to understand this, we turn to language the Church has treasured for centuries — especially that crucial distinction between begotten and created. And C. S. Lewis describes this with a real concise clarity: We don’t use the words begetting or begotten much in modern English, but everyone still knows what they mean. To beget is to become the father of: to create is to make. And the difference is this. When you beget, you beget something of the same kind as yourself. A man begets human babies, a beaver begets little beavers, and a bird begets eggs which turn into little birds. But when you make, you make something of a different kind from yourself. A bird makes a nest, a beaver builds a dam, a man makes a wireless set — or he may make something more like himself than a wireless set: say, a statue. If he is a clever enough carver he may make a statue which is very like a man indeed. But, of course, it is not a real man; it only looks like one. It cannot breathe or think. It is not alive. Now that is the first thing to get clear. What God begets is God; just as what man begets is man. What God creates is not God, just as what man creates is not man. By saying that Jesus is begotten from the Father, we are saying that Jesus is fully God and not a creation of God (Arianism), nor is the Son of God simply a mode or action of God (Sabellianism). This is the heart of Christian theology: begotten = shared nature created = different nature Begotten Means “of the Same Essence” When the Father begets the Son, He is not constructing or manufacturing Him. Begetting is not an act inside time. It is an eternal relationship. Just as: light is never without radiance a fire is never without heat the Father is never without the Son There was never a moment “before” the Son existed. The Son is eternally from the Father, sharing His nature, His essence, His Godness. As John says in the opening of his Gospel, Jesus as the Son was/is “in the bosom of the Father”. This was historically understood that the Word always existed within the Father. When Christ Is Misunderstood: Modalism and Arianism Two ancient heresies emerge from misunderstanding “begotten, not made.” 1. Modalism (Sabellianism) This claims that: Father, Son, and Spirit are just different forms or roles of one person. This erases the real distinctions within the Trinity. If Modalism were true: Jesus is praying to Himself. The Father sending the Son is theatre. Christ’s baptism is a staged illusion. Modalism collapses the Persons into one persona wearing different masks. 2. Arianism Arius taught that: Jesus was created by God ex nihilo He is a divine-like being, but not equal in essence This makes Jesus the highest creature… but still a creature. If Jesus is created, then He cannot: reveal God perfectly unite humanity to God save us entirely and absolutely Only God can reconcile us to God. The Nicene Creed: Drawing a Line in the Sand At the Council of Nicaea (325 AD), the Church responded boldly and clearly: God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one being with the Father. This was a decisive boundary. begotten — of the same nature not made — not a creation of one being (homoousios) — equal in essence, not similar The Creed functioned like a theological guardrail. Christ is not “like God” — He is God. The creeds act as guardrails for orthodox interpretation Proverbs 8: Wisdom Begotten, Not Created The Fathers saw Proverbs 8 as speaking of the Son under the title “Wisdom”: The Lord begot me at the beginning of his work...
Luke J. Wilson | 31st October 2025 | Halloween
In our last post, we walked with Perpetua and Felicity through the sands of the amphitheatre, their faith outshining Rome’s cruelty. Now for the final part in this series, we turn to another of the Church’s earliest heroes — one whose courage was matched by an unexpected wit. His name was Lawrence, a deacon of Rome, remembered across centuries as the man who kept his humour even while lying on the griddle. The Setting: Rome, AD 258 Under Emperor Valerian, a fresh persecution of Christians swept through the Empire. Bishops, priests, and deacons were hunted down, their property seized, and their churches closed. The bishop of Rome at that time was Sixtus II — a gentle and wise shepherd who, like the apostles before him, was soon to drink from the same cup as his Lord. Among his closest companions was Deacon Lawrence, entrusted with overseeing the Church’s treasury and distributing alms to the poor. The Acts of St Lawrence tell us that when Sixtus was arrested and led to execution, Lawrence ran after him, crying out that he would not be left behind. Where are you going, father, without your son? Where are you going, priest, without your deacon? You never used to offer sacrifice without me as your minister! To which Sixtus replied: My son, I’m not leaving you. Greater trials are waiting for you. In three days you’ll follow me. Sixtus was beheaded soon after. Lawrence, meanwhile, was arrested and brought before the Roman prefect who, hearing that Lawrence had been the keeper of the Church’s wealth, demanded that he hand it over to the empire. The True Treasure of the Church The exchange that followed has been remembered ever since, partly for its irony, partly for its courage. “Bring forth,” said the prefect, “the treasures of the Church — the gold, the silver, and the precious vessels — that the emperor may possess them.” Lawrence asked for three days to gather them, which the prefect granted, no doubt imagining chests of glittering riches being prepared for him. Instead, Lawrence went through the city, gathering the blind, the crippled, the widows, the orphans, and all who were destitute or suffering. On the third day, he presented them before the prefect and declared: These are the treasures of the Church. Behold the gold and silver that I promised thee — the eternal jewels in whom Christ dwells. The prefect, enraged at being mocked, ordered that Lawrence be scourged and tortured, then laid upon an iron gridiron above a slow fire. The Martyrdom The ancient texts, mingling reverence and humour, tell the story that has echoed down the ages and had left an impact on me purely for the humour that I find in it! They laid him upon the iron bed, and beneath it kindled coals, that his flesh might be roasted little by little. And Lawrence, lying there, lifted up his eyes to heaven and gave thanks to God for counting him worthy to suffer. After some time, the account continues with words that have made Lawrence one of the most memorable of all martyrs: Having been a long time on the fire, he said to his tormentors with a cheerful countenance: ‘This side is done; turn me over and eat.’ It is difficult to read those words without laughing at how funny it sounds! It matches the kind of dark humour that I can have and often think of, which is probably why the story of Lawrence appeals to me so much, it’s the kind of silly thing I would think to say (though I’m not sure if I would in Lawrence’s place!). In the face of unbearable agony, Lawrence mocked his tormentors and even death itself. His humour was not flippant, but a final victory over the fear that his persecutors wanted to instil. His joke was an act of defiance against the gods whom Decius implored against the power of Christ within Lawrence. Despite how hot it must have been, Lawrence declares a worse fate on Decius, warning him of the fire he will face because of this, saying that the “burning c...
Luke J. Wilson | 29th October 2025 | Halloween
In the last post, we looked at Polycarp — a faithful bishop who faced the flames rather than deny his Lord. His courage in the face of certain death became a rallying light for generations of believers after him. But his story is only one among many in the long line of the cloud of witnesses who ran the race before us (Hebrews 12:1). Today, we step forward a few decades to another account of extraordinary faith — that of two women, Perpetua and Felicity. Perpetua left an account of her own martyrdom (technically a Passion) which is considered historically reliable. What makes it extraordinary is that Perpetua herself wrote a portion of it in Latin before her death, making it one of the earliest known writings by a Christian woman! It was then continued by another who witnessed the events once she entered the arena. The Setting: Carthage, AD 203 Our story takes us to North Africa during the reign of Emperor Septimius Severus. Christianity was still seen as a threat to the Roman order, and anyone refusing to sacrifice to the emperor’s image could be imprisoned or executed. Among the arrested were a small group of catechumens (new believers preparing for baptism) including a young noblewoman named Vibia Perpetua and her servant, Felicity. Perpetua was only twenty-two years old and the mother of an infant son. Her father, a pagan, begged her to renounce the faith and save her life, but she would not. In her prison diary — one of the earliest surviving Christian texts written by a woman — she records their suffering and her unshakable resolve and faith. After she was arrested with her companions, she wrote of a moment when her father came and tried to persuade her to sacrifice to the Emperor and deny her faith: When my father, out of love for me, tried to turn me from my faith, I said to him: ‘Father, do you see this vessel here — a water pot or whatever it may be? Can it be called by any other name than what it is?’ He answered, ‘No.’ Then I said to him, ‘So too I cannot call myself anything other than what I am — a Christian.’ A few days after this they were all baptised while imprisoned under house arrest awaiting their trial before being moved to the more restrictive Roman cells once they were formally condemned to die by wild beasts. After her baptism, the Spirit spoke to Perpetua and told her that she must “pray for nothing else after that water save only endurance of the flesh”. Perpetua and Felicity await their fate in the Roman prison The prison was dark, so dark she said she had “never known such darkness”, plus it was hot and crowded, the soldiers mistreated them all and she was trying to care for her child! Thankfully, later on a couple of deacons, Tertius and Pomponius, who were ministering to them managed to somehow pay the Romans to allow Perpetua and Felicity some respite in a better part of the prison where the child could be better fed and later handed off into the care of Perpetua’s mother. Dreams of Victory While in prison, Perpetua received a series of visions that strengthened her for what lay ahead. In one, she saw a golden ladder reaching up to heaven, guarded by a fierce serpent below, and sharp iron spikes along either side. Only those who stepped on the serpent’s head and climbed the ladder could enter. She interpreted this as her coming trial — the climb of faith through suffering to eternal life, realising that God wasn’t going to deliver her from this trial, but that it should be her passion (i.e. her death). It’s an image of triumph through endurance that echoes Christ’s own words: “Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life” (Revelation 2:10). Felicity’s story is just as moving. She was heavily pregnant at eight months when arrested and gave birth in prison mere days before the execution. Roman law forbade torment of a pregnant woman, so she would have stayed in prison until the birt...
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Luke J. Wilson | 29th December 2025 | Christmas
January 6th marks the day in the liturgical calendar when the arrival of the Magi visiting baby Jesus with their gifts is celebrated. But with it comes the often distressing account of what is known as the Massacre of the Innocents. Matthew places this moment of revelation of Jesus as King alongside one of the darkest episodes in his Gospel, and it’s a stark contrast: one King is here to bring peace on earth, as the angels declared, the other king brought death and destruction. For some readers, this raises an immediate historical question. If Herod truly ordered the killing of all the male children under two in Bethlehem, why does no other ancient historian mention it? Josephus, after all, delights in cataloguing Herod’s cruelty. He records the execution of Herod’s wife, his sons, and numerous political rivals. Herod was paranoid and vicious. As for Herod, if he had before any doubt about the slaughter of his sons, there was now no longer any room left in his soul for it; but he had banished away whatsoever might afford him the least suggestion of reasoning better about this matter, so he already made haste to bring his purpose to a conclusion. He also brought out three hundred of the officers that were under an accusation … whom the multitude stoned with whatsoever came to hand, and thereby slew them. — Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews 16.11.7 So, why the silence here about Bethlehem? The answer, I would say, isn’t anything nefarious or made-up by Matthew, but just something simply down to scale. Bethlehem Was a Very Small Place Bethlehem in the early first century was not a city. It was a village — small, agricultural, and politically insignificant. Most historians estimate its population at somewhere between 300 and 1,000 people, with around 500 being a sensible midpoint. Once we factor in ancient demographics, the numbers become surprisingly modest. Modern demographic research into pre-industrial societies consistently shows that nearly half of all children died before adulthood, with the highest concentration of deaths occurring in the first two years of life. These findings align closely with conditions in Roman-period Judea and support conservative estimates for the number of infants living in a small village such as Bethlehem. Source: Mortality in the past: every second child died — Our World in Data In pre-modern societies with high infant mortality, only about 2–3% of the population would be living children under the age of two at any given time. Many children were born; far fewer survived those earliest years. Applying a conservative 2.5% figure to Bethlehem gives us roughly: 7–8 children under two in a village of 300 12–13 children under two in a village of 500 25 children under two even at the extreme upper estimate of 1,000 inhabitants Herod’s order, however, targeted male children only. Statistically, that halves the number. This places the likely number of victims somewhere between three and twelve boys. Matthew’s reference to ‘Bethlehem and the surrounding region’ does slightly widen the scope of Herod’s order, but not by enough to change the demographic picture. Even when nearby settlements are included (e.g. farmsteads, shepherd settlements, etc. not major cities/towns), the total number of children under two likely remained in the dozens rather than the hundreds, maybe anywhere between 14–45 boys maximum if we make an educated estimate. This is entirely consistent with what we know of population size and infant mortality in the ancient world. This is an important number to realise and consider. Not because the deaths are insignificant simply due to being so few, but because ancient historians did not record history the way we do now. A small number of peasant children killed in an obscure village would not have registered as a notable event alongside palace intrigue, royal executions, or political upheaval. For Josephus, it wou...
Luke J. Wilson | 15th December 2025 | Hell
Christian conversations about hell have never been especially calm, but the recent online reaction to Kirk Cameron’s comments in favour of annihilationism has been particularly revealing. Social media has erupted with accusations of heresy, doctrinal collapse, and theological compromise. It’s the “Rob Bell Incident” all over again (if anyone remembers that). The infamous John Piper tweet about Rob Bell A lot of comments I saw were wondering what Ray Comfort thinks of this, as he and Kirk worked closely together in ministry for about 25 years, and while Ray wasn’t as dismissive as John Piper was of Rob Bell, he still calls out Kirk’s new views as “erroneous”: While we believe Kirk is sincere, we believe that conditional mortality and annihilationism are erroneous views, and that the Bible’s clear teaching on hell is known as eternal conscious torment. We firmly believe that this is the only correct biblical view. (source) Yet beneath the noise of social media grinding its gears is something far more ordinary and far more Christian: a believer wrestling seriously with Scripture, or as some would say, “being a Berean” (Acts 17:11). This is something we all should be doing, forming our views and doctrines from Scripture, not out-of-context social media video snippets and memes. Whether one agrees with Cameron’s conclusions or not, what is happening is not the abandonment of orthodoxy, but the resurfacing of a long-standing and legitimate theological discussion. Annihilationism, or, more precisely, Conditional Immortality — is neither novel nor liberal, nor is it an attempt to make Christianity and hell more palatable, as many people presume. It is a position grounded in Scripture, represented throughout Church history, and held by Christians who take divine judgement every bit as seriously as their eternal-torment counterparts. This is not a debate invented by Twitter (or “𝕏” as it’s called now…). It’s been around for a long, long, time. Watch Kirk’s video in full here before forming an opinion Immortality Is Assumed, Not Taught One of the quiet assumptions behind Eternal Conscious Torment (ECT) is the idea that all human souls are inherently immortal, and therefore must exist forever somewhere. Once that premise is accepted, eternal suffering becomes unavoidable. The difficulty is that Scripture does not teach innate human immortality. In fact, it repeatedly teaches the opposite. Immortality is consistently presented as a gift, not a default state. Eternal life is something God grants, not something humans naturally possess (Rom. 6:23). In Genesis, humanity is barred from the tree of life precisely so that they might not “live for ever” in a fallen state (Gen. 3:22–24). In the New Testament, immortality is something Christ “brings to light through the gospel” (2 Tim. 1:10), and something believers “put on” at the resurrection (1 Cor. 15:53–54). Conditional Immortality simply takes that biblical theme seriously. It argues that only those united to Christ are granted immortality, while the wicked ultimately perish. Judgement is real, severe, and final — but it does not require endless conscious suffering. This distinction matters, because much of the outrage directed at annihilationism is based on inherited philosophical assumptions, which come from Plato, rather than careful exegesis. Biblical Language: Death Means Death One of the most compelling aspects of conditionalism is the sheer consistency of biblical language concerning the fate of the wicked. Scripture repeatedly speaks in terms of: Death — “The soul that sins shall die” (Ezek. 18:4) Perishing — “God so loved the world… that everyone who believes in him may not perish” (John 3:16) Destruction — “They will suffer the punishment of eternal destruction” (2 Thess. 1:9) Being consumed or brought to an end —...
Luke J. Wilson | 13th December 2025 | Christmas
How can God beget a Son? Does that mean Jesus is His creation? This question comes sharply into focus during Advent, when the Church contemplates the Incarnation: the eternal Son entering the world as a baby in Mary’s womb. And to understand this, we turn to language the Church has treasured for centuries — especially that crucial distinction between begotten and created. And C. S. Lewis describes this with a real concise clarity: We don’t use the words begetting or begotten much in modern English, but everyone still knows what they mean. To beget is to become the father of: to create is to make. And the difference is this. When you beget, you beget something of the same kind as yourself. A man begets human babies, a beaver begets little beavers, and a bird begets eggs which turn into little birds. But when you make, you make something of a different kind from yourself. A bird makes a nest, a beaver builds a dam, a man makes a wireless set — or he may make something more like himself than a wireless set: say, a statue. If he is a clever enough carver he may make a statue which is very like a man indeed. But, of course, it is not a real man; it only looks like one. It cannot breathe or think. It is not alive. Now that is the first thing to get clear. What God begets is God; just as what man begets is man. What God creates is not God, just as what man creates is not man. By saying that Jesus is begotten from the Father, we are saying that Jesus is fully God and not a creation of God (Arianism), nor is the Son of God simply a mode or action of God (Sabellianism). This is the heart of Christian theology: begotten = shared nature created = different nature Begotten Means “of the Same Essence” When the Father begets the Son, He is not constructing or manufacturing Him. Begetting is not an act inside time. It is an eternal relationship. Just as: light is never without radiance a fire is never without heat the Father is never without the Son There was never a moment “before” the Son existed. The Son is eternally from the Father, sharing His nature, His essence, His Godness. As John says in the opening of his Gospel, Jesus as the Son was/is “in the bosom of the Father”. This was historically understood that the Word always existed within the Father. When Christ Is Misunderstood: Modalism and Arianism Two ancient heresies emerge from misunderstanding “begotten, not made.” 1. Modalism (Sabellianism) This claims that: Father, Son, and Spirit are just different forms or roles of one person. This erases the real distinctions within the Trinity. If Modalism were true: Jesus is praying to Himself. The Father sending the Son is theatre. Christ’s baptism is a staged illusion. Modalism collapses the Persons into one persona wearing different masks. 2. Arianism Arius taught that: Jesus was created by God ex nihilo He is a divine-like being, but not equal in essence This makes Jesus the highest creature… but still a creature. If Jesus is created, then He cannot: reveal God perfectly unite humanity to God save us entirely and absolutely Only God can reconcile us to God. The Nicene Creed: Drawing a Line in the Sand At the Council of Nicaea (325 AD), the Church responded boldly and clearly: God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one being with the Father. This was a decisive boundary. begotten — of the same nature not made — not a creation of one being (homoousios) — equal in essence, not similar The Creed functioned like a theological guardrail. Christ is not “like God” — He is God. The creeds act as guardrails for orthodox interpretation Proverbs 8: Wisdom Begotten, Not Created The Fathers saw Proverbs 8 as speaking of the Son under the title “Wisdom”: The Lord begot me at the beginning of his work...
Luke J. Wilson | 01st December 2025 | Evangelism
On Sunday it was St Andrew’s Day and I was in church listening to a sermon about Andrew (and the namesake of our church), that often overlooked disciple, meeting Jesus for the first time. In John’s Gospel, it says: John 1:40–42One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, ‘We have found the Messiah’… He brought Simon to Jesus. As I sat there listening to our vicar speak about evangelism and how we should be more like Andrew in bringing people to meet Jesus, something from many, many years ago flickered to life in the back of my mind. A realisation I had long ago that gave me a great sense of freedom. Something I think I had forgotten, unfortunately (so thank God for the reminder!). There was a point in my life when I finally understood the relief of letting go of a burden I didn’t even realise I was carrying: it’s not my job to convert people. It was never Andrew’s. And it’s not yours either. Our role — our real and most basic calling — is simply to introduce people to Jesus. We get to be the planters and the waterers, but God is the one who brings the growth. As Paul writes: 1 Corinthians 3:6I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. When this truth sinks in, it strips away the pressure, the anxiety, and the awkward “sales-pitch” mentality that we sometimes (without realising it) attach to evangelism. And this ties into something even deeper: our basic calling as Christians is the Great Commission, Jesus’ final instruction to His followers: Matthew 28:19–20Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptising them… and teaching them… But it dawned on me that all of those actions: teaching, mentoring, discipling, baptising; they all come after someone has come to faith. We are not told to convert people. We are told to make disciples. Conversion is the doorway into discipleship, yes, but that moment of heart-opening and illumination belongs to God alone. Our job is simply to bring people to the Lord, to make the introduction. If they choose to stay, if they choose to follow then we begin the work of discipling, teaching, and baptising. Think of evangelism like inviting someone to a feast. We can bring someone to the meal, we can tell them how good it tastes, maybe even share how it changed our life… but whether or not they like the food is out of our control. That part isn’t up to us. Or to use an old expression: “you can lead a horse to water… but you can’t make it drink”. And honestly, that’s such a freeing realisation. It turns evangelism from a heavy responsibility into a joyful invitation: “Come and see.” “Come meet Him.” “Taste and see that the Lord is good.” That last phrase echoes the Psalm: Psalm 34:8O taste and see that the LORD is good. Andrew never argued Peter into belief. He never crafted an apologetic defence or theological persuasion. He simply said, “We’ve found the Messiah,” and he brought him to Jesus. That was enough. The rest was up to Jesus. And maybe that’s the model we need far more than we think. Evangelism isn’t a performance. It isn’t a debate. It isn’t a pressure. It’s an invitation. Once we realise that all the real work happens in the hands of God, it changes everything for us. It removes the fear. It removes the self-consciousness. It removes the burden of success or failure. Because there is no failure when your role is simply to point the way. So let’s be like Andrew: quietly faithful, gently invitational, always ready to say, “Come meet the one who changed everything for me”. Because at the end of the day, that’s all we were ever asked to do. ...
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