A Christmas Call to Arms!

There is a form of Ivory-tower Christianity that is near and dear to the hearts of contemporary Christians. It’s a soul-quenching faith that refers to brothers as “cognates” and straps mothers, sisters, fathers, and Christ Himself onto the table of logical syllogisms.

I despise this dry and withered system.

Like it or not…no defender of the Regulative Principle consults the Bible before putting one foot in front of the other. Nor do Christian children refer to the psalms before going outside to play. The rules of Freeze-tag are missing from the Proverbs! (This would be a terrible oversite on Solomon’s part should he have intended the Proverbs for the purposes of our Regulative brethren!)

I’m a Hedonist within Christian bounds…and along with the Westminster Shorter Catechism, I believe that part of my chief end is to enjoy God forever. There is no better enjoyment than the organic expressions of our regenerated hearts.

To deny the child his finger paints, or to deny the old lady her knitting…simply because the scriptures are silent on those matters…is a heinous mistake.

To deny the contemporary Christian the traditional celebration of Christmas…is a heinous mistake. Yes! It can be celebrated better! Yes! Christendom needs to refocus herself! Yes! Regeneration is needed!

But gentlemen…I submit to you, that the day we allow Christmas to die…that is the day that Christendom loses her last great expression. The pagan hoards will sweep over us…and I would consider our slaughter a righteous judgment, and pray for the day that God brings people back to His Earth who love and appreciate the beauty inherent in the joys of their parents.

At least then the snow would have someone to appreciate it…and reindeer could once more dream of glorious heights!

Everyone of you strict regulative brethren should go home and burn the closet doors that contain the yearly height marks of your children. They’re unbiblical, and therefore of no use to the Christian. Nor should we take pictures, or have inside jokes among family members.

I plead with you to let the north pole remain north…and battle the heathens to put Santa back into his rightful place…reestablish God’s glory in the celebration…allow the drummer boy to drum, the lambs to bleat, and the angels to sing!

If you want it to die…well, by God, you’ve got a fight on your hands.

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