We recently—here at Remonstrans—approached the Christmas season through the reflections of others, reflections we no longer get to confront in church. Because these expressions are so much more provocative than what we do sing, it might be supposed that I was hoping to replace the bad with the good.

Not really. I don't believe the good drives out the bad, I believe the bad drives out the good.

I hope it became apparent that our imaginations are probably never more slighted than at Christmas. God bursts into his creation with light and song and angels and prophecies and miracles and kings and shepherds, but nothing captures our attention like the tinsel and the cookies. Among people who champion seriousness there is an irritating commitment to the trivial and the hackneyed. From the modest samplings of evangelical Christmas shindigs that were broadcast and podcast I also noticed a pathetic devotion to the amateurish and a dedicated pursuit of the nostalgic.

Events that staggered the imagination of angels don't quite meet our expectations. I would say this is a serious problem. The unredeemed seem more curious about our salvation than we are; in our minds it is all about us, in their minds it is all about the marvel of his works. For them it was a wonder to behold, for Mary it was a thing to ponder, for us it is a sentimentality we indulge.

As Kenon Renfrow reminds us, it is about the golden days, the olden days of yore when being all together was a work of the Fates. Yes, the Fates. Perhaps the Moirae visited the Babe in the manger to determine the course of his life. I don't know; ask the angels if they saw any Fates on the premises.

I think it is terribly ironic that as fundagelicalism reaches lower and lower for some pop relevance we spurn the best help we've got. We blather on about passion and relevance and identification and meaning and authenticity, but who would ever know it from our songs?

Clarity of mind means clarity of passion, too; this is why a great and clear mind loves ardently and sees distinctly what it loves.

Can there be any hope for us if we cannot be serious and passionate about the Incarnation?