He doesn’t consume us, even though that is what we deserve. Instead, Jesus comes down to us and consumes all our sin by taking it on himself.
This article is the first part of a two-part series. The second part will take a look at when pastors abuse their congregations.
The following entries are excerpts from Chad Bird’s new book, Untamed Prayers: 365 Daily Devotions on Christ in the Book of the Psalms (1517 Publishing, 2025), pgs. 311 and 335

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A star appears in the East. A spotlight over its Creator. A single constellation bows over that Light of Light from whom darkness flees.
I’m still piecing together fragments. I’ve spent my life collecting scraps of personal stories that will explain my father to me.
Ah, the New Year. It’s the stuff of resolutions. To be better. Do better. Live more healthful. And yet, year after year, we never quite change as much as we hope. Entropy is still a scientific fact.
What is it about David’s life, and this psalm, that make this so fitting a place to utter this dire pronouncement of humanity’s corruption?
There are so many paradoxes that we can appreciate as we seek to grasp more of the meaning of the miracle of Christmas.
Isn’t it strange how the Jesus we end up with bears such a striking resemblance to ourselves? Our Jesus thinks as we do, acts as we act, speaks as we speak.
It had just been a few weeks in my friend’s life since he had been converted to the Christian faith. He was very much still learning the ropes of what it meant to be a Christian.
As I remember these stories of the other side of Christmas—where it’s not a wonderful life, where there’s no joy to the world, where silent nights are interrupted by screams and sobs and cursing and gunshots—I remember that this other side of Christmas is precisely why there is a Christmas in the first place.
We are like the spoiled children of kings who spit in the face of paupers on the street. We have been given so much, yet we treasure so little.
I could’ve stopped it, but I didn’t. I'm surprised that I didn’t turn my back to receive a pat as I let loose from lips, how good and saintly I was. What a reminder, that we are all susceptible to looking for the adulation of others.
To be justified means to be declared righteous in the forgiveness that is ours in the crucified Christ. It is a done deal, and by faith we have it all.
It doesn’t matter how good you seem to be, you’ll always be able to find someone who seems better than you. We’re addicted to comparing, measuring, quantifying, and judging.