Shane Goodyear reflects on his experience of Christmas in a working class family, and explores the link between extravagance, cultural values, and the gospel’s message of generosity.

Last year, my brother gave me a bottle of Cologne worth about £100. When I mentioned this to a friend, he seemed shocked. “That’s extravagant!” he remarked.

But in my family, that’s pretty normal. Because, like so many of the residents on this estate in south London, we go ‘big’ for Christmas. There’s gifts not just for the kids but for the adults including the extended family. It all takes a lot of planning – we start saving in summer so we can give generously in December.

I’m talking in generalities here, but my experience isn’t unique – a few years back I remember the BBC reporting on data showing that people in less affluent parts of the country spending more of their income on Christmas than in more affluent areas.

Going big for Christmas

It’s always been the same on the estates I’ve lived in across London. Trees aren’t just decorated – they’re surrounded by gifts. Electricity bills go through the roof for houses lighting up the whole street (not to mention keeping the occasional oversized Santa inflated 24/7). Kids wake up early and dive in headfirst. Secret Santa? In our family, the budget is £80–£100 per person. And it’s not just family – friends, neighbours, even workmates might get something too.

Compare that to a conversation I had recently with a middle‑class friend. His family does Secret Santa for £20 a head. Often, the bigger investments happen elsewhere – music lessons, private tuition, mortgage payments. Thousands of pounds over the years, but spread out quietly.

Now of course there will be exceptions on both sides. Neither approach is wrong. Both reveal what we value. One says, “Let’s bless our kids now.” The other says, “Let’s equip them for later.” Different priorities, same desire: to love well.

I’m also not ignorant to the fact that generosity can slide into consumerism. The real message of Christmas – God giving Himself in Christ – can, and does, get buried under wrapping paper. That’s true in every culture. Whether it’s lavish gifts or carefully curated experiences, we all risk making Christmas about us rather than Him.

But from my experience of other working class families, this isn’t about greed. It’s about dignity and memory. Historically, when money was tight all year, Christmas was the one time you could go “over the top” – a goose on the table, gifts for the kids. That instinct stuck. Even now, people save hard so they can give generously. Yes, some get into debt – and that’s a problem – but many plan ahead because blessing others matters.

And it’s not just about your own household. I know families who save thousands for Christmas, and most of that goes outside their immediate circle. It’s a way of saying, “You matter. You’re seen.”

Moderation or excess?

The instinct to reject consumerism and to ensure Jesus is the focal point of Christmas, is a good one.

But is it possible that we can slip too far the other way? Where moderation becomes the goal?

The Bible paints a different picture. The father in Luke 15 didn’t throw a modest buffet for the prodigal son – he killed the fattened calf. Jesus said, “If your child asks for fish, you don’t give him a snake.” Christmas is the story of divine extravagance: God giving Himself, holding nothing back.

So before we judge a neighbour’s overflowing tree, maybe ask: what longing is underneath? Often, it’s the same longing God answers in Christ – abundance, welcome, joy.

If you’re building friendships, start by listening: “How do you celebrate? What matters most to you?” You’ll hear themes of giving, family, blessing. Those are gospel bridges. Connect the dots gently: “What you love about Christmas – giving, feasting, making space for people – that’s what God has done for us in Jesus.”

A challenge to the church

Maybe your Christmas looks more like my friend’s – or more like mine. Maybe neither. That’s okay. But here’s the question: what does your celebration say about what you value? And how might you reflect the God who didn’t hold back? Perhaps that means more hospitality, open tables, gifts beyond your circle. Perhaps it means slowing down and remembering why we give at all.

Meanwhile back at my flat: the space around the tree is filling up. Kids will dive in. Laughter will erupt. And maybe, just maybe, that scene whispers something true: Christmas on the estates taught me that God didn’t hold back – and neither should His people.