Fideistic Christianity may look bold, but it is fragile.
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.

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If you know me in the least, then you know of my fondness for the 2010 film Inception.
To forget ourselves is to remember another, that is, to act in such a way that benefits them. That’s the problem: we don’t.
Although I was too young to have mastered the skill of lying, I also knew that I couldn’t tell this woman the truth.
Today, I almost died several times.
The Christian life is compared to many things throughout Scripture. It's likened to a soldier going to war, a sheep under the care of a shepherd, or the journey of a pilgrim to a far-off city.
God’s desire that all be saved led him to pay the price by which all are saved, all are justified.
Over the last 11 months I’ve spent the bulk of my time working to plant a church in New York City.
One of the things you get used to if you talk about this thing called “grace” often enough, is sooner or later you’ll be looked down on by your peers.
Years ago a pastor friend of mine who felt betrayed by someone he trusted told me that he was under no biblical obligation to forgive his betrayer unless and until he asked for forgiveness.
He lavishly pours out His rest in the waters of Baptism, in the spoken words of absolution from the pastor’s lips, in the preaching of the cross and resurrection, in the consumption of heavenly cuisine from the table at which He is host and meal.
Looking back, I see that the biggest problem (besides heresy) was that my faith was first about what I did or didn’t do, but it was also intangible and spiritual.
The Christian faith makes a bold claim: We are the world's problem, but we are not the world's solution.