The “further up and further in” we go, the table keeps getting bigger, the guest list keeps getting longer, and the grace keeps on flowing.
Christianity does not locate freedom in radical autonomy. It does not tell either men or women that happiness consists in escaping obligations arising from relationships we did not entirely choose.
Jesus never promised me a World Series championship. He never promised that my children would always succeed or that life would go according to plan. He promised something better.

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The creation is one of God’s good gifts and being cut off from nature and wild places, as we often are in the modern world, is probably not so good for us.
Like her Lord, the Church has dirt under her nails, the smell of coffin wood on her clothes, and a hunger in her belly.
If he was not flesh, who was hung on the cross? And if he was not God, who shook the earth from its foundations?
He reminds them how his love is truly marvelous and unconditional, but then, he looks them in the eyes, and says they ought to do better because of his love.
Last night was one of those nights when I had an unscheduled 3:00 a.m. Life Assessment session.
Apart from bare, naked faith in Jesus' atoning work for us, no sinner is, or ever can be, holy.
The God whose Spirit hovered over the face of the dark, formless, void waters of the infant creation, now walks upon the waters of the sea like a boss.
This had been a lonely year, though. She could keep herself busy for a while with friends and she could distract herself for a few weekends by leaving town, but something was definitely missing.
Who was this Jesus, who could do such things?
What would be a fitting thing to give up, especially during the season of Lent?
Some days, people need a touch. Not just any touch, but something that says, "I care about you, and I love you."
Looking at our dining room table most days, you might think we were running a cartoon factory out of our house. Drawings. Everywhere.