Once I was asked what Christmas traditions our family had when we were growing up. I suspect the one asking me expected to hear something sweet and sentimental like singing Christmas carols in 4-part harmony in front of the fireplace or reading Luke’s nativity narrative around a lit candle on Christmas Eve. Alas, no such traditions existed in our home. Instead, we Taylors traded sentiment for the hilarity and irreverence of “A Christmas Story.” Leaning heavily on the crude toilet-humor of triple-dog-dares, “major awards,” and pink bunnies, our only real tradition was tuning into the TBS 24-hour “A Christmas Story” marathon beginning on Christmas Eve. Without question, that is my favorite movie—holiday or otherwise. But it isn’t the hilarity, irreverence, or toilet-humor that has earned my affection. Rather, a living example of the gospel erupts in the climax when the real hero is revealed. The storyline follows Ralphie and his pursuit of an Official Red Ryder Combine Action ...