There’s a familiar yet provocative question that gets bandied about in December. WestJet Airlines even created a dazzling ad based on this query. In their now viral commercial, after passengers swiped their ticket on a magical, life-sized present, a jovial Santa asked, “What do you want for Christmas?” Responses ran the gamut from a big screen TV to Android tablet to socks and underwear. When the passengers arrived at their destination and proceeded to the luggage carousel, something other than suitcases awaited them. (If you haven’t watched this, it’s well worth five minutes of your time.)

I’ve been thinking a lot about that man in the green vest who asked for, and received, unremarkable undergarments. Has he wished for a do-over, especially after seeing the enormous screen TV slide onto the conveyor belt? I’m not simply feeling empathy for his missed opportunity–I also wonder how I would have responded if someone unexpectedly asked me that question.

It goes without saying that I want world peace and an end to poverty, racism, pillaging of the earth, and injustice. Not just because I’m supposed to want those things–I actually have a deep hunger for a world where we treat each other and our planet well. But on a human level, what do I, Dorothy Greco, a 53-year-old mother/wife/daughter/friend really want?

More than I want a new carpet in our great room to replace the one our anxious dog routinely throws up on, more than I’d like a new wardrobe to clothe my ever expanding, post menopausal body, I want to love well. I want to transcend my wounds and limitations and love like Jesus loved: radically (across gender and racial barriers), consistently (as in not just when I feel up to it), and redemptively (keeping no record of wrongs, for example).

And this is as it should be for one who follows after Christ. Jen Pollock Michel writes in Teach Us to Want: Longing, Ambition and the Life of Faith (IVP, August 2014), “The goal of Christian formation is the slow and steady shaping of our lives into the posture and practice of love. ‘Love is the fulfilling of the law,’ wrote the Apostle Paul (Rom. 13:10). He remembered well that Jesus, under the scrutiny of the religious leaders, distilled the Mosaic Law into two simple commands: love God and love your neighbor (Matt. 22:34-40).”

Simple in word–seemingly impossible in deed. Each morning before my feet hit the floor, I ask God to resource me, to give me the requisite patience, kindness, gentleness, and humility necessary to accomplish this feat. For as much as I want to love my husband, my sons, my extended family, and all the other people in my life, I can’t. At least not predictably and certainly not on my own. On some days I succeed for about ten minutes. On a good day, maybe ten hours.

It’s humbling to admit that I struggle so with the very goal that is the most important to me. That ongoing struggle tempts me to give up and downgrade my longings to more easily attainable, material items. Jesus, however, inspires me to persist, to keep leaning on Him, and remarkably, to continue to ask as I stumble along.

He tells us that our Father in heaven knows what we need even before we ask. (And unlike Santa, He doesn’t seem to have a litmus test of goodness which predicates his response.) Though I am well aware that many in today’s culture might dismiss both the Messiah and St. Nick with a cynical roll of their eyes, I know unequivocally, without his divine love flowing into me, without his Spirit guiding me, I would not be able to love anyone, ever. I can approximate God’s love only because I have first experienced this profound and holy love.

While I’ve had my moments fantasizing how I would have responded to WestJet’s blue clad Santa (imagine a twenty-foot carpet roll appearing on the carousel!), what I really want came to earth 2,000 years ago. Wishing you all a loving and joyful holiday.