The ascension is not about Jesus going away. It's about Jesus taking his rightful place so that he might fill the world with his presence and power.
Those who venture through these pages will find a veritable gold mine for the task of theology today, especially in the realm of apologetics.

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Only the ministry of the Gospel can forgive sins, even while civil government rightly carries out retribution for lawlessness and disobedience.
Three of the most profound truths embedded in the fabric of the universe are that blood has a voice, blood cries out to God, and blood is heard by heaven.
Our righteousness and the righteousness of our neighbor have nothing to do with what we eat or do not eat.
According to the Law, everyone will be judged by their own deeds, on his own work. So, before the judgment of God we only have our own works to boast in and not our neighbor’s. But the Gospel shows us a wonderful exception.
Happiness is a slippery term. We all want it. We're all supposed to pursue it. But nobody seems to know how to obtain it.
Our past, present, and future receive healing from Jesus’ wounds.
I love apologetics, the art, and science of defending the Christian faith. I love talking about all the philosophical arguments for the existence of God with my skeptical friends.
[This text] describes a journey to a foreign region where Jesus engages in a confrontational conversation with a legion of demons, performs a violent and scandalous exorcism, and leaves behind a community gripped by terror. Apparently, the only thing more frightening than a naked, graveyard-dwelling demoniac is this visitor from Nazareth who reigns over everything.
Baptism demolishes all boasting, for it is passively received and all that is received is pure gift. No one can, therefore, boast a better salvation than another.
Naturally each individual forgets the beam in his own eye and perceives only the mote in his neighbor’s. One will not bear with the faults of the other; each requires perfection of his fellow.
They cannot know that I am already a father, but, this side of eternity, I won’t ever meet my child because of a miscarriage.
Shame is shameful. That may seem obvious but ponder this observation from the authors of Scenes of Shame: “Shame, indeed, covers shame itself—it is shameful to express shame.”