Few couples faced the kind of pressures they endured in their two decades of marriage prior to Martin’s death in 1546.
The doctrine of the Trinity is not so much the story of a “who-dunnit” as it is the story of the “who-is-it.”
You are a soul. Not an algorithm. Not a hashtag. A soul knit together by a God who does not mock, does not abandon, and does not lie.

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One gets science or religion, but not both. Today’s model swings to the other end of the pendulum, flirting with an extreme inclusivity. One gets science and religion, as long as they are properly understood.
Today I have a hankering to talk about beavers. Who doesn’t love beavers? The binomial nomenclature reads Castor canadensis.
Huxley, Dawkins, Hodge, and Plantinga characteristically illustrate Ian Barbour’s conflict model. The idea is that the universe is not big enough for the likes of science and religion to coexist. The conflict proponent, whether pro-science or pro-religion, adopts an attitude of total domination.
I will take a look at the locus classicus on the relationship between science and religion, Religion and Science: Historical and Contemporary Issues (1997) by Ian Barbour.
In the public square, concerning public law, policy, and moral norms, debate is best carried out not with reference to that special revelation unique to a particular religion, but by appeal to that natural knowledge of the law possessed by all (even while recognizing human attempts, often successful, to suppress it).
Much like the 2014 Superbowl, the debate itself was lackluster and utterly predictable. However, one aspect of the debate struck me as worthy of commentary; the way Mr. Ham presented himself as a Christian intellectual.
We tend to think about apologetics as an academic enterprise, as something that requires formal training.
Philip Melanchthon once said, “Those who disparage philosophy not only wage war against human nature, but they also severely injure the glory of the Gospel.”