Christmas Pudding
by R.C. Sproul Jr.

G.K. Chesterton likes Christmas. He missed the current debate in Reformed circles (for all his genius he missed Reformed circles in general) on the regulative principle. A growing number of Christians have banished Christmas from their homes because Scripture nowhere enjoins us to celebrate such a holy-day. But the complaint among those who are in the world, but growing weary of it, is at least as old as G.K. He wrote of the frustration many folks had even in his day over the commercialization of Christmas. His assessment is instructive in a whole host of areas, including worship.

The English had a tradition of hiding coins in the Christmas pudding served to their children, not unlike the ubiquitous King cakes during Mardi Gras. Chesterton compared the Christmas pudding to the Christmas dilemma. He argued that while some merely capitalized on the Christmas spirit of giving, it was the spirit that was the substance. To fall prey to that temptation was to eat Christmas pudding for the sake of the coins. Still, he argued, as long as the reason for the eating was the pudding, the coins were okay. We don't celebrate the coins and build a pudding around them, but rather celebrate the pudding, and the coins are a pleasant bonus.

Now we have from time to time in these pages complained about the commercial spirit infecting our worship. The church growth mongers have taken to seeing their services as performances, and their congregants as market share. We don't much care for such hooey. But some might then jump to the conclusion that I measure the success of a given service of worship by the anguish on the faces of the sheep as they leave. By no means. I am not opposed to anyone enjoying worship. I hope they will. The point is that such pleasure in worship is not really the point.

This is illustrated by the tortured conversations that often take place after Lord's Day worship, "Pastor, I really enjoyed the service." Admittedly it is a sentiment I rarely hear. And maybe I'm just kidding myself for thinking this, but I hope I hear it as rarely as I do because people catch themselves before they say it. They've seen me squirm in finding a response, "Do I say "Thank you?" Do I say, "Yeah, well, I don't much care. Let me know if you can tell me that God enjoyed it?" Do I say, "The real question is whether the eternally and infinitely and unchangeably blessed God found it to be a blessing?"

The long complex answer to that sentiment would go something like this, 'It is my hope that God was pleased with the worship because it was honoring to Him, though of course He would have in some sense been pleased anyway because that would have been His will, and He always wills His good pleasure, and if you enjoyed it, that's the coins in the pudding and I'm glad for it. Of course if I knew God were honored by it (and that cannot be judged by whether or not the sheep cheer), and you weren't pleased, I would be equally pleased for God and about my work, but sad for you." That's a mouthful of Christmas pudding. Next time all I'd get at the door is, "See you next week pastor, maybe."

I do care whether people enjoy worship. I care for their sake, not for mine. (Though if they dislike it because I am failing to honor God, then I need to change.) And the silly thing about church growth mythology is that it fails to give pleasure. Those that enter the door for some pleasant conversation, and baptize this selfishness calling it "fellowship" will have not friends but acquaintances. Those who choose a church because the service is only 45 minutes long need to redeem the time with repentance. If people just want to be entertained on the Lord's Day there are far greater pleasures than listening to some third-rate rock band whimper through El Shaddai. The far greater pleasure is to come face to face with El Shaddai. El Shaddai is God Almighty, not God the sweet sister. And though such a meeting with a transcendent God is by no means a pleasant and safe diversion, it is a taste of the jolting joy of heaven. A gentle breeze is nice enough, but if you really want to have a good time, take a ride on a hurricane.

What could be a greater pleasure than to renew covenant with God most high? To come face to face with your sin, and then to enjoy the pronouncement of God's unchanging forgiveness? You can't have that without the unpleasant task of gazing deeply, and unflinchingly at your sin. What could be greater than to experience, even though as through a glass darkly, the marriage feast of the Lamb? What could be greater tban being reminded that this same Lamb that has pro- nounced His grace is also a roaring Lion, who is making all His enemies (and because we are in union with Him, all our enemies) into a footstool? What could be greater, as we quiver in terror like some Christmas pudding, than praising this true and living God? Some guy in a sweater quoting M. Scott Peck won't show you that.

And if the living God does not give you pleasure, if you find such an encounter to be unmoving or distasteful, then you'd better get used to it. He'll be giving you pain for quite some time. If you're coming to get though, you'll go away empty handed. If you're coming to give, your cup will runneth over. That's how Jesus confounded the marketing gurus of His day, teaching, "Whoever would gain his life must lose it. And whoever would lose it will gain it." If you spoon through your pudding, spilling it on the table, failing to taste and savor it, you will find no coin in the center.