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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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.
The Church needs mystics again. Not fringe figures, but saints ablaze with love.
The Christ who rescues does not wait for you to be clean. He comes to clean you. He does not need your strength. He brings his own.
Christ does not hide his wounds. He offers them.
The great lie of addiction is that suffering must be fled, must be numbed, must be drowned out by any means necessary.
The addict’s condition speaks a hard truth: that we are all beggars before God, every one of us bent toward the grave.
Addiction is the warped fruit of a good tree: a sign that the heart longs for transcendence but has sought it in places too small, too finite to hold such hunger.
In Simeon's hands and Anna's gaze, we are reminded of God's promise—not distant, not fading, but alive.
Belief at Christmas is neither neat nor safe. It is the path that leads to the manger and, from there, to the cross.
The world rushes forward, lighting up screens and decking out storefronts in a mad sprint toward the next thing, but Advent pulls us back.
Instead of a “how-to” manual, the Bible is a “what-you-didn’t-do” story.
One Christ rules over all of it. He is the constant, the root that nourishes every estate and every vocation.