With the rise of megachurches in the 1980s, Singing Christmas Tree pageants expanded in scale. Ensconced in arena-sized “worship centers,” evangelical megachurches required a Christmas pageant that could play to the last row of the multitiered balcony. The Christmas tree platforms grew larger, in many churches reaching more than four stories in the air with a high soprano perched alone at the tree’s peak just short of the rafters. The trees also became flashier, festooned with thousands of lights that often twinkled and flared in time with the music. And the staid and traditional Nativity play now shared center stage with elaborate costume dramas usually depicting the plight of a wayward soul who had forgotten—or turned from—the true meaning of Christmas.
While the forest of Singing Christmas Trees remains thickest in the South, chances are, no matter where you are reading this, there’s a production nearby. Congregations in cities as diverse as Tacoma, Wash.; Sacramento, Calif.; Grand Isle, Neb.; and Agawam, Mass. all host Singing Christmas Tree pageants. But the grandest and most famous productions remain in the South, holiday rhinestones on the nation’s Bible belt.
Perhaps none is more famous than the Singing Christmas Tree at Memphis’ Bellevue Baptist Church, one of the nation’s largest congregations. Bellevue debuted its Christmas pageant in 1976, and it has set the standard for megachurch Singing Christmas Tree productions ever since. This year’s show, “Destination: Christmas,” takes place in a crowded 1950s-era train station. (Singing Christmas Tree productions frequently set their stories in earlier time periods like the 1890s and 1950s—decades that evangelicals often romanticize as simpler and purer moments in American history.) In the bustle of the train depot where travelers rush to their Christmas destinations, three strangers’ lives intersect, changing their destinies forever. Wallace, an older gentleman, wallows in his loneliness and sadness; Paige, an attractive lounge singer, longs for the bright world in front of her, just a train ride away; and Helen, the ticket clerk, laments lost dreams and a faded youth. But all three stand ready to learn the real meaning of Christmas: that Jesus came as a baby 2,000 years ago to offer the world salvation.
All of this drama, performed by a 400-plus-person cast, choir, and orchestra, plays out in front of Bellevue’s famed 44-foot-tall Singing Christmas Tree bedazzled with 100,000 lights. But if that sounds ostentatious, the Singing Christmas Tree at First Baptist Orlando, a megachurch in the shadow of Disney World, outshines its Memphis rival. Boasting not one, but two Singing Christmas Trees, the twin pines in Orlando reach to 40 feet high and twinkle with more than 250,000 lights.
Despite all the worldly glitz and gaudiness, presenting the gospel remains the real purpose of these productions. Church members are encouraged to invite their neighbors to the shows, and in many cities across America the local Singing Christmas Tree draws attentive media coverage. Thousands turn out for these events. Bellevue’s annual attendance regularly hits 35,000, and across the state in Knoxville the Sevier Heights Baptist Church’s Singing Christmas Tree has grown so large, with annual attendance surpassing 60,000 people, that it has moved its production to Thompson-Boling Arena, the basketball stadium for the University of Tennessee.
Every year, thousands of Americans pray to receive Christ as their personal savior during Singing Christmas Tree productions. In 2007, for example, 600 of the attendees at Sevier Heights’ show reported that they’d secured their salvation during the service. Joyce Rogers, the wife of Bellevue’s legendary former pastor Adrian Rogers, claimed in her 2005 biography of her husband that since 1976 the church’s Singing Christmas Tree and its Easter pageant, the Memphis Passion Play, had resulted in some 95,000 conversions. Those numbers mean that the flamboyant Singing Christmas Tree productions will continue in churches across the country for years to come. These churches recognize that glitzy Christmas spectacles draw in crowds more enormous than any candlelight Christmas Eve service could. Thousands of Singing Christmas Tree attendees come for a hometown experience of a Radio City Christmas Spectacular-style show, and many leave each year as new believers. Sometimes it takes a little of the gaudy to spread the gospel.