It happens every year. Some school teacher tells the truth about the mythical fat man from the North Pole, and parents flip out as though something wrong has been done. Christian parents, whom I would expect to love truth, are often as outraged as the pagans. It has happened again this year. I’m not going to link to the story. I’m sure you can find it if you want. Besides, it’s the same story as last year, and the year before that, and the year before that, and next year too. Only the names and places have changed.

Now, I agree that it is within the parents’ rights (legally, not morally) to tell their children whatever they want. Let them tell their children that a jolly fat man who lives at the North Pole—there is no land at the North Pole, by the way—makes an annual visit to every good child on the planet via a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer. Let them say that the moon is made of cheese, that they can accomplish anything with enough self-esteem, that global warming is a legitimate threat, and that Ralph Nader would make an excellent President. Parents are certainly entitled to decide what to tell their children, and I am right out front in the battle against anyone who says otherwise. That is why we homeschool.

On the other hand, my right to teach my children whatever I see fit does not translate into an obligation on anyone else to back up my story. I have no right to wax indignant because someone says there is no Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, or Santa Claus.

“But,” you say, “They don’t have to go out of their way to do it. Furthermore, not all truth must be told. Some truth should not be told.” Then you might give an example of crossing the street to tell someone they’re ugly , which is a ridiculous comparison, for a few reasons. First, ugly is subjective. That anyone is ugly is neither true nor false. Second, supposing ugly is a fact, there could never be a good reason for saying so. What kind of person would do that?

Third, and most importantly, it would be highly unusual for anyone to be forced to declare someone to be ugly. Anyone who spends a lot of time with children will inevitably be faced with the necessity of either affirming or denying Santa Claus. Any teacher committed to telling the truth, no matter how studiously he avoids the subject, will eventually have to say, “No, sorry, it’s just a story.” You have no right to object to that, and to expect them to cross their fingers and lie.

Then there are the children who know the truth. Eventually, they learn to avoid the subject and keep quiet. Little kids haven’t learned that, and they don’t have the skill to maneuver through this minefield as adults can. Sometimes, they are just going to blurt out, “There’s no Santa Claus!” There is no malice or guile in that, and I would be ashamed to hear my children say otherwise when they know the truth. Children lose any illusion of innocence far too soon as it is. I will not teach them to lie for any reason.

“But,” you say again, “Surely you tell your children stories; not everything you tell them is technically true.” Yes, we tell stories, and some of them are real whoppers; but we call them fiction. We don’t actually convince our children that there really are trolls living under bridges or pigs that can build houses or bears that eat porridge. We never try to convince them of anything that is not true. The possible example you’re thinking of right now? No. I don’t need to know what it is, the answer is, “No. Absolutely not. Nope; not that, either.”

As aggravating and absolutely wrong as it is to expect complicity in deceit, worse is the scorn that is often heaped upon those who choose to tell their own children the truth. I’m talking about Christians who look down on others for telling their own children the truth. We are stealing joy from our children. We are miserable, dour adults who suck the fun out of Christmas. That attitude is astonishing. First, to be contemptuous of others for telling the truth—for telling the truth!—is audacious beyond description.

Second, to think that the legitimate focus of Christmas is somehow lacking, and that a fairy tale can add anything to the true story of God incarnate, born of virgin, without sin, who lived and died to bear my sin and secure eternal life for me! The true story of the incarnation alone needs a companion fairy tale, or Christmas won’t be fun! Such attitudes are unworthy of Christians.

Tell your children whatever you want. That really is not my concern, or the focus of this article. Your children will probably grow up just fine, although many have testified to the harm done to their faith when they learned the truth about Santa. Just don’t expect complicity from me. Don’t expect sympathy when you throw your temper tantrums over the gall of some teacher who told the truth. Don’t expect an apology when your child discovers that mine doesn’t believe in Santa. You see, if maintaining your deceit requires me to be deceitful too, you’re on your own. If that ruins your Christmas, I’m afraid you’ve missed Christmas anyway.

Yesterday, my wife and I spent a fun-filled (fuń fild adj. full of or tending to induce stress and exhaustion) day shopping. I came home, having had my fill of fun for a good, long time, more grateful than ever that my home address is eighty miles away from the nearest shopping mall and that segment of the population that enjoys living near them. We even went to Wal-Mart, which I avoid as diligently as possible. Anyway, we got the job done and returned home late last evening, our net worth substantially reduced.

I made a stop at Wal-Mart’s “inspirational” book section. The only real Bible they had was a fake leather NKJV. The rest were NLT and the like, ranging from cutesy Precious Moments junk to the Refuel and Revolve biblezine abominations. They did have a KJV New Testament on CD read by James Earl Jones, which would be cool—probably too cool, actually. That was the best of the selection. Other attempts at inspiration were offerings from Rick Warren, Joel Osteen, Joyce Meyer, Billy Graham, Gary Smalley, Frank Peretti, and the like.

I wasn’t really surprised. After all, why should Wal-Mart be any better than the average Christian book store? What really did surprise me a little was that, among all those “inspirational” books, I found absolutely nothing of any real value at all. It was all junk. I left the inspirational section uninspired. I don’t blame Wal-Mart, though. Wal-Mart is not a Christian retailer. Wal-Mart does not stock its shelves with truth in mind. It is not concerned with the souls of its customers.

Wal-Mart just wants your money, and that is not a pejorative statement. That is why retailers exist. But what strategy do they use to get your money? They stock what you want, “you” being the generic customer, and in this case, the Christian customer. That is why Wal-Mart’s shelves are stocked with very few KJVs and NKJVs, and no NASBs or ESVs. That is why Wal-Mart stocks Warren and Osteen, and not MacArthur or Piper. Wal-Mart sells what the market demands, and the market demands ice cream rather than prime rib. And the market can’t even discern good ice cream from bad. It can’t even tell when the ice cream is laced with cyanide.

Wal-Mart doesn’t stock the truth because the church isn’t buying it.

Bloggers who have nothing to say write about their cats. At least that is what I have observed. Today I am writing about my cat. Draw your conclusions as you will.

When we lived in the country, we always had cats. We had to. It was either cats or mice, and we chose cats. Those cats were not pets, they were livestock—not like cattle, because we didn’t eat them, but like horses, because they had a job to do. When we moved to town, we didn’t bring any cats with us.

Then, last week, a kitten walked into the house and decided to stay. This one, I guess, is a pet. Her name is Dagmar. She hasn’t done a lick of work since she arrived, and I doubt she ever will. She sleeps a lot. When she wakes up, two little girls harass her until she makes a break for my office, where she climbs up my leg and promptly falls asleep on my lap. Sometimes she climbs across my keyboard, typing in tongues. I will be reading Charismatic Chaos to her soon. At least she meows in English.

So, now I have blogged about my cat. Can I sink much lower? Well, yes, I suppose I could have posted pictures, but then I would never be able to look in the mirror again, regardless of how devastatingly handsome I am. Here is a cat picture for anyone who cares to see one. It’s not our cat—I wish it was.

I wonder if this is what they call jumping the shark.

The dashing young fellow on the left is Steve Weaver, which regular readers of our On the Web links should know. I want to draw your attention to a series he has just begun called How I Prepare an Expository Sermon. “OK,” you ask, “why do I care how he prepares his sermons? I’m not a pastor. I don’t preach. I don’t care how General Motors or Ford builds cars as long as they build good ones. I don’t need to know where the nuts and bolts go.” Well, you need to know, and here are a few reasons why:

Some day you may be in the position, as I have, to interview pastors for your church. Believe me, asking if he believes in expository preaching is not enough. I have had prospective pastors say they always preach expositionally who demonstrated that they had no clue what “expository” means. Then there are those who really do know what it is, but don’t know how. You need to know the difference between wannabes and the real thing.

If you have a pastor who is giving you solid Biblical exposition, you need to know how much work goes into the finished product. That thirty minutes to an hour you get on Sunday morning represents many hours of diligent study during the week, and years of study and training behind that. You need to know why your pastor doesn’t have time for all the superfluous programs and activities you might like to see. You may only see him for a couple of hours a week, but he is working hard, and very likely putting in longer hours than you do at your job, and he is doing it for you. You need to understand and appreciate that. Your pastor needs you to understand and appreciate that.

Those are just a couple of reasons why you should care how an expository sermon is prepared. I have saved the most important reason for last:

The way an expository sermon is produced is the way you should study the Bible. The goal of the expositor is to understand what the text means, that is, exactly what God is saying through it. You most likely are not able to study in the original languages, but you can read Bible dictionaries and commentaries, and you can learn important principals such as context. Do you want to be a Berean? This is how it is done.

Update: The links to the entire series can be found here: How I Prepare An Expository Sermon: The Series.

Christmas Eve at our house was the same as every year. Click here for a sample.