We needn’t fear statistics and studies as palm readings into a certain future. God is God, and his Spirit is alive through his Word.
Christ does not hide his wounds. He offers them.
The church does not await a verdict; she proclaims one.

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On Good Friday, poetic justice is satisfied. Poetic mercy is all which remains.
Simon carried the cross, but Jesus was carried by the cross to death.
Out there the instincts to protect yourself from embarrassment, ridicule, and rejection can easily overcome you as they did Peter. Our only hope is in Peter’s Lord.
What grace is this? It’s grace from Christ, who often seizes us when we least expect it, even through the hands of His enemies.
God is often hidden in history, even as we make it now, but He is always manifest where He has promised to be.
Each email entry in The Withertongue Emails is intended to compel the reader to stop and think about their pastor, themselves, and their churches.
Maybe it was because I read this book to put myself to sleep. But maybe the lack of any Christian references was part of my sadness.
The problem with sin is that we fail to honor God who wants to take our hearts captive and fill us with his goodness.
It is precisely from the cross that the glory of God shines most brightly into our lives, as dark and sinister as Golgotha appears from a sinful distance. Cross trumps crisis.
When we read a good story, we sojourn with the characters and authors upon the trail of longing. Such is the pilgrim’s path.
You might not know it, but every Christian hopes for the day when their faith will die. Really. I promise. Faith’s death is our celebration.
If we think God’s power, love and beauty are reserved merely for the glories of Transfiguration, then we have not understood the Father; we have not understood divine revelation.