American religion did not become optional because the gospel failed. It became optional because religion slowly redefined itself around usefulness.
The Passover wasn’t just Israel’s story; it’s ours.
God makes us pure saints by planting us back in the earth we imagined we needed to escape.

All Articles

I take out the broom, spray bottle, and trash can. For the hundredth time this week, I find myself sweeping up the mess of a Christmas to come.
The church cannot stop singing of the joy of the Incarnation. Here is another hymn to add to the long list of poetry focused on Emmanuel.
Is there no sweeter sound than Immanuel? Christ’s name, God with us. Those three words heal an ocean of hurts, give courage to the weakest heart, and lifts the head of the weariest pilgrim.
We have heard of the man born to be king. Here in Bethlehem, by divine condescension, the King—the King of kings—is born to be man.
Jesus isn't Superman. He's not from another planet. He's from Earth.
God coming to us at Christmas encapsulates the essence of Christian faith: we don't make ourselves strong and then work our way up to a strong God.
He created us with an eye on recreating us. He made humanity in his image because one day he would assume that image. The Creator would become a creature while remaining Creator.
So it is with my little garden as well; dead, so it would seem. Nothing. Barren.
This time of year, Christmas time, the world isn't so much Christ-expectant as it is Christ-haunted.
Over and over, generation after generation, sinners repeat the same mistake. "How is it possible that God can be a man," we ask.
If April 1 is April Fools’ Day, then March 25 is Divine Fool’s Day. Falling nine months before Christmas, it’s the day when God set in motion what appeared to be a foolish plan.
A star appears in the East. A spotlight over its Creator. A single constellation bows over that Light of Light from whom darkness flees.