Whether a Christian enjoys high church, low church, or something in between, aesthetics in the Church are not about any one individual person and their particular tastes. Aesthetics are, fundamentally, not a matter of legalism, but of edification—that the Gospel of Christ might be preached and taught to all peoples, unhindered by its medium.
Let us live by walking with Jesus, so that our Neo-Pagan neighbors, the witch, and frankly a lot of us Christians, can put down our crystals, our superstitions, our vision boards, and our bound sage in order to live out a liturgy of life, with rituals, practices, and behaviors that reflect who we are as followers of Christ.
As Jesus hung on the cross there would be no last second escape. No Greek goddess would swoop in to rescue him. He suffered alone. And yet even in that suffering he declared his victory on the spiritual battlefield to be your victory.

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This is the night from when all those nights receive their light. For this is the night when Christ, the Life arose from the dead.
Have you ever wondered, of all the adjectives we could use to describe this day why in the world we chose the word “good?” Yeah, me too.
The story of Christ crucified has a happy ending. Jesus has conquered the grave. He beat the death rap.
Like her Lord, the Church has dirt under her nails, the smell of coffin wood on her clothes, and a hunger in her belly.
What on God’s green earth does dynamite, a chemical explosive, have to do with the Gospel of Christ?
Who was this Jesus, who could do such things?
Forgiveness of sin, righteousness, and eternal life aren't handed out by God because we deserve it.
In Christian terms, this is a perfect example of the doctrine of vocation, where God calls us to serve our neighbor.
I don't remember the first time I heard the gospel, but I do remember the first time I began to understand it.
Then He went to the coffin. He touched it, like a carpenter sizing up the piece of wood He plans to turn into some sort of new creation, running His hand down its side.
It is the strangest of morgues—people arrive dead as doornails and leave alive.
Thank you for all you do to encourage me, pray for me, and remind me of the grace of Christ which forms the foundation of all I write.