The postman is delivering mail to the red brick Victorian on the hill. A boy and a man emerge from the toy store with a pile of wrapped boxes. A red Volkswagen bug inches down the cobblestone street with a tree strapped to its roof. And a gaggle of girls glide across the frozen pond. 

Our Christmas village is alive on the kitchen counter, lights glowing in every warm ceramic home, snow shimmering and piled high around every flocked tree. The ice skaters even move along magnetic curlicues, flanked by the village warming house on the left and the Christmas tree lot on the right. 

The houses, with wrap-around porches and black shutters, are decked with boughs of holly and look down on the skating scene from their hill above. The village’s Main Street is off to the right with a Corner Cafe, Antique Shop, and the Paramount Theater playing It’s a White Christmas. Even Big Bill’s Service Station gets a corner of the scene.

My mother-in-law built the village, year by year, piece by piece, as my husband grew up. She passed away almost seven years ago and my girls have been setting it up every Christmas since we returned to the US four years ago. 

Why Do We Do This? 

I was tempted (again) to leave the village in its boxes in the garage this year. Maybe they won’t notice, I thought. I’m not one for knick-knacks. And I’m even less sentimental. The scene takes up space, along with the rest of the dusty Christmas decor. The snow gets everywhere. And solving a Rubik’s cube is easier than untangling all the required power cords. 

But I knew the girls would remember and protest and that my attitude was (again) Grinchy. So I lugged it down from the rafters and we took a couple nights to get everything just right. And now it stands, mesmerizing and delighting our family and guests alike. 

A friend posted a photo of her snowy village on Instagram a couple weeks ago and captioned it, “Do you set up these little houses and snowy villages? Why do we do this?” I had the same question.

Why do we setup these sweet scenes of perfection? Why are we mesmerized by the warm lights, smiling characters, happy little businesses with happy little customers, and the busyness that points to friends gathering for feasts and gift-giving? 

What is so captivating about these make-believe towns? 

Our Hearts’ Suspicion 

They capture our imaginations because we have a suspicion that we were made for a life like that. There’s a hunch inside the heart of every human that knows a perfect village is possible. It’s like we’re homesick, but we’ve never been to that home before. 

The Garden of Eden was the first such village, with its abundant life and rich communion with the Village Maker himself. We are the descendants of Adam and Eve, so the longing for a perfect village is in our DNA. Created by God, our souls crave Eden whether we realize it or not. Made in his image, we are miniature creators and cultivators, just like him. 

You know the rest of the story: sin entered in and the perfect village was marred with sickness and brokenness. The warm lights went dim and from then on the village inhabitants grew ill and weary and hurt one another. But that’s not the whole story. 

Precisely because of Christmas, we have redemption, and our Creator-Redeemer-Village-Maker is at it again. We lay out our Christmas village to celebrate Jesus’s first coming. But we sit and stare at it in anticipation of him coming again. 

And that future village, which he will usher in, is beyond our greatest imaginations. In our new village there will be no chance that the lights will grow dim again. 

Our Future Village

Jesus is, even now, preparing a place for us (John 14:3). A new village—even better than the first—the new heavens and new earth (2 Peter 3:13). This consummation of creation will bring together the Creator and his creatures, abiding together in a perfect union, without any sin or stain or possibility of imperfection ever again.

“No eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Corinthians 2:9). Though we look back on the first Eden with awe and wonder, we can look forward to the new heavens and new earth with even greater anticipation. The consummation will be better than the creation. 

In our new village we will be glad and rejoice forever, we will never weep or feel distress (Isaiah 65:18-19). We will build houses and live in them, plant vineyards and eat their fruit (Isaiah 65: 21). We won’t labor in vain or have children in calamity (Isaiah 65:23). Even wolves and lambs will graze together (Isaiah 65:25). It will be perfect. 

The snowy village on my kitchen counter testifies to that which our souls suspect: life like that is possible. Life like that is coming. Life like that is already promised to those who love Jesus. 

I guess I’m over it then. Writing these words, pondering our future, has changed my heart for our Christmas village. As pesky as the rogue snowflakes are, as dusty as the whole scene gets, as annoying as it is to rent out half the kitchen counter, our snowy village bears witness to what is to come. And my heart quickens. 

The day is coming when we will join with every tribe, tongue, and nation (Revelation 7:9) in the worship of our great God. The Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb will dwell with us and his glory will give us light forever and ever (Revelation 21:22-23). Amen.