When we consider our own end, it will not bring us into a final wrestling match with the messenger of God, but into the embrace of the Messiah of God.
What do such callings look like? They are ordinary and everyday.
This is the third in a series meant to let the Christian tradition speak for itself, the way it has carried Christians through long winters, confusion, and joy for centuries.

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Life is certainly unfair. But in Christ, at least in part, we rejoice at such a notion. Grace, that great descriptor of God’s devotion, is a word that only finds its purpose, only exists at all, because it exists as a response to guilt.
It’s the First Century, the early days of the of the Post-Pentecost Church. Something is in the air.
Writer’s Block, however, entertains no such fantasies. It goes straight for my ego’s jugular and pounds home the fact that I’m not good enough.
It may seem like a strange place to begin: the end of the beginning.
Our meditation listens to the King of Kings when He says; it is finished.
Perhaps you’ll forgive my reticence to care very much about all of this End of Days talk as it seems that opinions on the matter are very personal and can be really intense.
We expect that if it is God’s word, it must have fallen out of the sky on golden plates.
At times, evangelical Christianity can be a paradox. For as much as Protestants have spurned Roman Catholicism, they’re much more Catholic than they’d ever like to admit.
Advent accents preaching, making known that it is the Lord who comes to bring salvation, to proclaim this in all the earth.
A Roman execution device isn't exactly a picturesque scene of divine love on display.
Nicodemus, like us, does not really have phantoms and dragons in his head. He has just one demon, one virus, one malady: he lives in fear.
That’s where a true encounter with God leaves you. Unable to point the finger at anyone else, all you can do is fall on your face, confess your sin, be absolved, and join the angels in singing, “Holy, holy, holy.”