Illness is not romantic. It is not a test, a metaphor, nor a blessing in disguise.
The unity of God’s people is grounded not in lineage nor land but in the promise of the coming Christ.
I find myself returning to the Nicene Creed this Advent season

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It is terribly easy to set up our theology as a buffer against the real coming of the Lord and its consequences.
Weak faith in a strong Christ is still saving faith.
We don’t start with behavior and work toward Christ. We start with Christ and everything works out from there.
The good news is that with our God there is always more: more than we deserve, dare, ask, or expect, more than we can see, hear, feel, or think.
The reason that God’s commandments are not burdensome is that Jesus has fulfilled them.
Righteousness before God is possessed only by grace and that through the currency of faith.
The love mentioned in 1 John 4:15-21 fourteen times (!) is a love that needs no apology but is determined at all times to sacrifice for the other.
We need to hear the gospel because it is good news that is not from you, or about you, or because of you.
“There,” the Queen said, “That’s so much better than talking, isn’t it?”
Faith is like a horse with blinders because it only beholds God’s promise. It is obsessed with what God has already said.
History is the painful realization that we aren’t the ones who can save the world but, rather, we’re the ones who get saved.
Whatever body part you are, the body of Christ is no pod person. Together, we’re a living, breathing, deathless whole.