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.
In Jesus, God acted first, even when we were dead in our trespasses and sins (Eph. 2:5).

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Christmas is not for remembering, thinking, pondering, trying to make sure you are really celebrating it properly, or for wondering whether you truly have faith.
The anticipation of Advent is supposed to build us up, not make us exhausted.
Lewis once pointed out that Christianity does not begin by telling us how to behave, but by telling us what is wrong.
Christianity doesn’t start with our speculation about God. It starts with God’s self-revelation.
This ancient “tale of two mothers” concerns far more than theological semantics—it is the difference between a God who sends and a God who comes.
This story points us from our unlikely heroes to the even more unlikely, and joyous, good news that Jesus’ birth for us was just as unlikely and unexpected.
The unity of God’s people is grounded not in lineage nor land but in the promise of the coming Christ.
Caesar gets your taxes. Christ gets your heart.
While Thoreau’s Walden is seen as a central text of that most American of virtues—self-reliance—quiet ambition as envisioned by Tinetti is exactly the opposite: dependence on God.
Every age has its emergencies, and the church must never ignore them. Yet, our response cannot be one of panic or propaganda.
On this, the birthday of Martin Luther, I will pause to thank God for his birth.
Something Reformation Christians ought to do is familiarize themselves with Roman Catholic theology.