It happened like this. We were on the point of starting Christmas Dinner - just the family, the three of us - when the bell rang. A strange figure at the door. A tramp begging, was my first thought. He was small and skinny, but with a compelling look, even though his eyes were a mess, swollen and sore. Black hair, long and lank, with skin like old bark. He dressed oddly. I remember thinking, 'a bit like the Dalai Lama'. There was a scar down one cheek. How old he was is anyone's guess. But not young.
It was freezing outside, but before the Scrooge in me could say anything, the caller was in the hallway. He trembled a bit. From the cold, I thought. But he seemed weak and fearful. Whoever could he be? What did he want? He muttered what sounded, in his broken English, like 'gentleness' or 'Gentiles'. But it was what was under his arm that gave him away - some scrolls and other papers. 'Books and parchments' came at once to mind. Very politely, but with a thick Jewish accent, he asked, 'I wonder if you have some water?' Of course. The glass was quickly brought.
Angela and Alice looked at each other, and at him, startled and a bit upset at this intrusion. But I was now convinced I knew who this visitor was. Fear. Panic. Putting my Cessationist scruples to the back of my mind, I quickly looked around the room. All the trappings of Christmas were very evident: the tree, the streamers, the cards, the nativity scene, candles, Father Christmas, the holly and the mistletoe, accompanied by 'seasonal' music. What would our visitor think?
As far as I can see the Apostle Paul - for that is who the caller was, I now knew - had not given us any advance warning of what he would think. By a slip (or a little bit of Royal pressure on the translators) 'Easter', occurs in the KJV translation of Acts 12.4, but 'Christmas' is nowhere to be found. Perhaps Paul did not mention Christmas because he accepted the Regulative Principle of Worship, the principle that except in regard to 'common circumstances', Christian worship is to be governed solely by the commands of the Word of God, and not merely by what it forbids. A rule easy to state but (even with the best will in the world) hard to observe, as Derek Thomas has shown. But 'Regulative Principle' does not appear in the KJV either, nor in any other version I'm aware of. But of course Paul could have kept to the principle without using the phrase 'Regulative Principle' and (come to think about it) he could have celebrated Christmas without using the word 'Christmas'. Or Paul might have used the word 'Christmas' or (if you think that the word 'Advent' is more seemly), the word 'Advent', but it not find its way into his writings.
I think I know what the late Professor John Murray, who adhered to the Regulative Principle, would have said about Christmas, but I have never been sure what the late Apostle Paul would have said. Perhaps I was about to find out.
If the Apostle, like Professor Murray, kept to the Regulative Principle, or at least tried to, then what would he say about all these trappings? And about the very idea of a Christian festival in the middle of winter, a Christ-mass? What sort of a defense could I put up if he once got going? Perhaps I could persuade him that Christmas was a 'thanksgiving upon a special occasion'. But, to be frank, this did not seem very likely. Yet there was a glimmer of hope. For Paul did say things about days and festivals, which gave me something to hold on to. Perhaps he would not take a hard line. He may think that Christmas is one of those times that (as he wrote to the Romans), provided that we are fully convinced in our minds that they're OK, then they're OK. However, in a situation like this, who the 'weak' brother is, and who the 'strong' has always been a bit of a puzzle. Perhaps Paul would explain. Maybe we could simply agree to differ, or even (happy thought!) agree to agree. That would be a great deliverance. It would be wonderful if somehow we could deflect things away from Christmas.
I took a deep breath. The Apostle to the Gentiles! Here, at Christmas! Panic. Fear. But delight and excitement too. Wait till Derek and Ligon hear of this.....Carl Trueman, eat your heart out!
Resisting the temptation to pick up the camcorder, Angela brought extra things for the table, and we settled him down there. Though it wasn't easy, because we discovered that he limped rather badly. He was also reluctant to let go of the scrolls, but we were eventually able to persuade him. He muttered his appreciation, and was about to say something else, but when he saw and smelled the food his appetite seemed to get the better of him. We tried the 'business as usual' ploy, as if Apostles were regular visitors to our home. Our visitor had to eat slowly because of some missing front teeth. The gaps gave him a rather comic appearance. Alice looked him over and began to giggle. He loved the turkey, though the knife and fork were difficult. He kept peering at how we were managing the food. Angela quietly passed him a spoon. Wine? The plum pudding was a bit rich for him, I think. Cheese and biscuits (with olives) were a great success. More? Why not! (I was relieved that that stuff I remembered about him knowing how to be abased and how to abound seemed to be true to life.)
After the food, and a couple of cups of very white coffee, he began to steady and to gain in strength. The chocolates were opened. An instant success. As we talked, it seemed that he already knew quite a bit about us. Perhaps not. But he was certainly courteous, thanking us warmly for what he had eaten. He now began to look around the room. My spirits drooped. Here comes the Regulative Principle!
I began to try to convey the significance of what he saw, not very successfully I fear. He was extremely polite. I was struck by that. At one point, after some moments of total silence, I ventured to ask him what he thought about our way of celebrating Christ's birth. He liked the candles. They made him think of meals at home. And the tree took him back to the pines near where he was brought up. And as I explained the Nativity scene set up under the window, he beamed and remarked that he was thrilled whenever Christ was at the centre. The only thing that made him mad was the figure of Father Christmas. 'A god, a god' he seemed to be saying, in a rather grumpy kind of way. I tried to make the connection with Santa Claus, but it did no good.
He was an attentive listener, and picked things up very quickly. But boy, could he talk once he got going. I shall try to give you as much of the rest of our conversation as Angela and I can remember. I've attempted to do this in his own words, but what with his accent and the fact that he sometimes became excited and gabbled so fast, there are some things that we can only remember the gist of. So, no speech marks. To try to make things a bit clearer I've put in some of our questions to him. His quotes from his own words and those of others were made in a very free way, so I’ve taken the liberty of expressing them in the ESV.
We explained that Christmas was part of the 'Church Year'. He could see advantages with that idea. Certainly, he recognized that the cycle of the Christian year keeps people focused on the central things of the faith, and that can't be bad. Yet - and he was very strong on this, gently tapping the coffee table with his fingertips - it could easily give the wrong impression. How so? Because the Church Year is a circle, not a line, he said. His voice down to a whisper, he reckoned that he'd had a hard job in his letters conveying the once-for-all character of Christ's coming. He mentioned several sentences; descended from David according to the flesh; yet for your sake he became poor; who though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped; great indeed, we confess, is the mystery of godliness: He was manifested in the flesh; the appearing of our Savior Jesus Christ.
But he seemed to think that none of them were very good at expressing this idea of once-for-allness. That was not his phrase, incidentally. He thought that one of the most satisfactory ways he'd come up with was, when the fullness of time had come. By contrast , whoever had written the letter to the Hebrews, (he did not seem to know who the author was, and not to care), had done a great job. But when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right hand of God, waiting from that time until his enemies should be made a footstool for his feet. For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified. He sounded out every word clearly and solemnly. He added, I wish I'd thought of that. Were there tears in his eyes? It was difficult to tell.
You see, he said, - glancing at Alice, who was putting another DVD into her new machine - the Incarnation, like the Cross, cannot be played over and over again. It actually happened. (Alice leaned over and whispered, 'He means that Jesus came in real time. No playback facility!') It won't happen again. Can't do. Christmas...Christmas....Christmas....Nativity scenes....Nativity plays. Doesn't all this repetition make it seem as if you can't quite convince yourselves that it has happened? Are you trying to be persuaded that the very nature of God became flesh by re-running the story, by trying to turn the clock back? And trying to imagine how it was, what it must have been like to be there, on that 'first Christmas'? Gently, he suggested that maybe it has the opposite effect.
At the time he was writing his letters, he went on, there were big problems with the Stoics, who thought that everything recurred. So given enough time, on their view the Incarnation would happen again. So then there was a special need to stress Christ's once-for-allness to the Gentiles as well as to the Jews. He went on, forget the Stoics. You probably haven't heard of them anyway. The point to remember is, the Lord's purposes aren't a circle, they're a line. Christmas cannot recur each year, because it cannot return, not even once.
So how do you put it? Angela asked. He said that he thought the best idea he'd come up with - it came to him in a flash, right out of the blue - has at first sight nothing to do with Christmas. When he was writing to the Christians at Rome and trying to motivate them to live properly he'd thought of this: for salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed. Nearer than when we first believed - there's the line of God's purposes, and we are on it. And so (our visitor seemed to like drawing inferences) nearer than when the Advent occurred. And tomorrow (another inference loomed) our lives will be a day nearer the second Advent, our salvation, and a day further away from the first.
Some have noticed - he went on - that in my writings I don't have much to say about the birth and life and ministry of Jesus. You don't find any references to the manger, or the shepherds, or the wise men. Not even - he seemed to wink at this point, or maybe his eyes twinkled - not even Mary! I butted in, (it was necessary to do this sometimes), Did you know all those details at the time you were writing, then? He was rather surprised by my question. Do you not think we all got to know about Jesus' life and death and resurrection pretty soon after everything was over? Look, he went on, when it was necessary to get down to details, I could and did. There was that serious misunderstanding at Corinth about the resurrection of the dead, and so I had to insist on the historical facts about Jesus, about his resurrection and who saw him afterwards, and so on. When we had the discussions at Ephesus, in the school of Tyrannus, there were lots of questions about Jesus' teaching. Those were great days! I suppose that's why I referred to Jesus' words when I talked to the Ephesian elders at Miletus. But apart from that, and of course the words of institution of the Supper, there's little or nothing else. And when you think of all that stuff I wrote about the death of Jesus and what it means! Yet I did not even mention Judas and Pilate and the two thieves.
Why was that? Well, no one can deny that the writers of the four Gospels have done a great job. What would the point be - apart from giving extra work to New Testament scholars - to add a fifth? Who needs a fifth? (He sounded very Jewish, I remember.) He said that he believed that his task, his calling, as he expressed it, was to place Jesus in history, to try to show how his coming, and his death and resurrection, fitted into God's unfolding purposes, and so what they mean to us who come after. (At this point I could swear he muttered someone's name. But because of his accent, and the sound from the DVD player, we could not quite make it out. We discussed it endlessly afterwards. I thought it was 'Geerhardus', while Angela was adamant that it sounded like 'Griffin' or 'Gaffin'. Anyhow, we were both agreed on what his next words were: 'redemptive - historical'. I remember thinking, What a mouthful!)
I was sure he was about to nod off. But then he jerked awake and wagged a spiny forefinger at us both. Union with Christ, he said, was his big idea. He was disappointed that it does not seem to have caught on. People go on about the birth and death of Christ, about satisfaction and atonement, about justification and sanctification, even about election and predestination, without somehow getting the basic point, the key idea. Union with Christ. A big idea expressed in small words. In your translations of my letters, he said, look how those phrases 'in Christ', 'with Christ' keep coming up. There was that French chap in Geneva, brilliant, devoted to Christ, though rather excitable and bad-tempered. His name escapes me. Cauvin? Calvin? He had the right idea. He got to the heart of what I was trying to say. But not many others have.
When we think about union with Christ, we are taken beyond Christmas; - at this point I remember he waved his arms around the room in a rather expansive way - what now matters is not only the fact that Christ has come, but that because we are united to Christ we have been clothed in Christ, and we must keep on being clothed in him. So Christ is not only to be admired or celebrated or worshipped, and the details reconstructed. We must not stop there. His voice dropped. I might even say, if you'll allow me, hold onto the details but don't fuss over them. Christ is to be put on. We must wear him. Don't forget that, he said. That's what Christmas (I was rather surprised he kept using this word) must lead to. Not putting on a Father Christmas suit, or wearing Mary and Joseph outfits, but wearing Christ himself. We have Christ's real presence ('real presence' were his very words) not when we look at a model of a baby in a replica manger, or a picture on one of your Christmas cards, but when we put him on.
I'll always remember that text. The timing was perfect, though quite unintended, I'm sure. As he was slowly repeating the passage, But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires, he promptly took another chocolate from the box that Angela held out to him. Then he dozed off. And we crept out to the kitchen to do the dishes.
When we came back, the scrolls were gone, and his chair was empty.
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