Christianity doesn’t start with our speculation about God. It starts with God’s self-revelation.
“I’m spiritual but not religious.” That’s a phrase I hear a lot in Southern California—and especially now as we approach Christmas—because this is the time of year when even the most secular among us feel a tug toward something transcendent.
It sounds enlightened. It sounds humble. It sounds open-minded. And it usually comes with a gentle smile meant to convey, “I’m not against what you believe, I just prefer my spirituality without dogma, church, or—let’s be honest—any accountability whatsoever.”
I get it. Religion is a mess. Churches can break your heart. But seeking transcendence without truth is like trying to drive to Florida using a map your preschooler made with crayons.
“Spiritual but not religious” sounds free, but it’s actually fragile. It keeps you in control of your spirituality, which means your spirituality is ultimately just you looking in the mirror and convincing yourself it's divine light.
But here’s the thing: Christmas is God getting very, very specific. Christmas is the end of vague spirituality. Christmas is God saying, “I’m not whoever you imagine—I’m the God who shows up in flesh and blood, and cries in a manger.”
Christmas is the end of vague spirituality.
And that drives some people crazy because it means God refuses to stay safely abstract. If God is there—and most people grant that something is—then he’s not a vibe, a force, or an energy field.
If God exists, he is someone. And you don’t get to know other persons by mystical guesswork. They reveal themselves. For example, you don’t get to know me by imagining what I might be like. You know me because I talk, I show up, I tell you my story.
Christmas is about a real God, in real history, doing a real thing in a real womb. It’s God anchoring himself into the dirt and skin and sweat of our world. Christianity insists on concrete truth, not spiritual guesswork.
That’s why the virgin birth isn’t some optional religious ornament you hang on the theological tree. It’s the whole point. The eternal God stepping into a young woman’s womb is not absurd—it’s consistent. If God created everything from nothing, then stepping into his creation through a miracle of his own design is not a stretch.
Frankly, it would be a disappointment if the God who made quasars, hummingbirds, and the laws of physics couldn’t manage conception without a biological father.
But the virgin birth isn’t just about divine power. It’s about divine intent. God isn’t playing peekaboo. He’s saying, “This is who I am. This is what I’m like. Look at this child—he is my face, my voice, my heart.” Christianity doesn’t start with our speculation about God. It starts with God’s self-revelation.
The “spiritual but not religious” worldview says, “I want transcendence without commitment, inspiration without incarnation.”
But the gospel says, “God became flesh.” Actual flesh. Touchable. Seeable. Vulnerable.
Spirituality without incarnation may inspire you temporarily, but it can’t save you eternally.
If God really entered the world miraculously through a virgin, then he is not just a warm feeling in your heart or a vague force in the universe. He is Lord. He commands. He intervenes. He disrupts. He directs. He has the right to call you, lead you, contradict you, and change you.
Spirituality without religion is a way to say, “I want God, but only the parts of him that make me feel good.”
Christmas says: God didn’t come on your terms. He came on his. No consultation. No survey. No permission requested. He didn’t ask if a virgin birth would be acceptable to your modern sensibilities.
He came because we needed him—not because we invited him.
Thus, I’m convinced that “spiritual but not religious” is code for, “I want God, but I want him to behave.” It’s safe spirituality. It’s, “I’ll imagine a God who agrees with my preferences, smiles at all my decisions, and never interrupts my plans.” And again, if you invented a person like that, we wouldn’t call it a relationship. We’d call it make-believe.
But Christmas ruins make-believe for all of us. Because if Jesus really was born of a virgin, then God is not your projection. He’s the God who breaks into history, bypasses the normal order, and announces, “I’m here. And you don’t get to make me up. I’m the God who comes for sinners who can’t climb their way up to me.”
And that is the best news in the world.
If God had left us alone with our private spirituality, our vague intuitions, and our curated deities, we’d still be stumbling around in the dark, convinced we were enlightened. Instead, God turned on the light. He didn’t send advice. He didn’t send a mystical energy. He sent himself.
“Unto you is born this day… a Savior.”
Not an example.
Not a symbol.
A Savior.
One you can’t control, can’t vote on, and can’t redesign in your own image using the latest AI tools.
The virgin birth tells you that salvation is entirely God’s doing from start to finish. The God who made the world without your help also redeems the world without your help. And that’s why Christmas is not inspirational sentiment—it’s invasion. God breaking into a world of sin, doubt, pride, and spiritual fog to reveal himself in a person with a name, a birth certificate, and eventually a cross, and an empty tomb.
So if you’re tired—tired of trying to feel your way to God, tired of inventing a deity who never answers back, tired of vague spirituality—Christmas is your good news.
The real God has introduced himself. He has a face. He has a voice. He has a body. He has a name: Jesus. Emmanuel. God with us.
You don’t have to imagine him. You can know him.
That’s Christmas. And that’s the end of “spiritual but not religious.”
Being ‘spiritual but not religious’ is like being engaged to an imaginary girlfriend. It may feel warm and sentimental, but there’s no one there to love you back. But what the Scriptures proclaim and what all those beloved Christmas carols reiterate is this: God didn’t send a spiritual feeling. He sent a Son. Born of a virgin. Born for you because he loves you.
