Understanding Iran therefore requires more than studying military capabilities or diplomatic strategy. It requires taking theology seriously. Christians understand this because the gospel shapes lives, cultures, and civilizations. Our calling is not merely to analyze those competing stories but, more importantly, to proclaim the true King whose kingdom comes not through revolution or coercion, but through His death and resurrection.
The Christian does not meditate because life is calm. The Christian meditates because life is anything but calm. Trials teach us that we cannot live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.

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I bet you have seen this verse pop up in Bible study before.
In the midst of suffering, hate, and sin, Jesus sets a table for soldiers. He feeds the fearful with forgiveness and eternal life.
What comes to us at Christmas is not a great seasonal bargain to enhance our happy holidays. It is the priceless gift of God’s Son.
We aggrandize time. It certainly possesses power over us. It irreversibly moves us in one direction and can’t be replayed to different ends.
Blessedness comes to us camouflaged as simple earthly words, water, bread and wine.
No one twisted Jesus’s arm to make him enter Mary’s womb. No one tricked him into being born into a world strung out on the meth of sin. He came in with his eyes wide open.
I’m going to begin at the beginning. But which one? Birth? Kindergarten? My first drink? The first time I had sex?
Jesus loves His church. He cleans her up. He takes her as His own. And He leads her.
Our little congregation is part of a much larger church—the body of Christ, both here on earth as well as in heaven. And that church worships 24/7, never ceasing in its adoration of Jesus our Savior.
“Christ is pretty ok doing all the redeeming that needs doing Himself—and He has redeemed you, and redeemed me.
We strive, in short, to master the art of swatting mosquitoes. And all the while, we remain blind to the fact that in pulpit after pulpit, the Gospel of Jesus Christ is as rare as Merry Christmas inside a synagogue.
Growing up, I dreaded the first Sunday of each quarter. Every time during the evening service, we would have Lord’s Supper after the sermon.