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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The Good Shepherd doesn’t leave the sheep to fend for themselves.
In Israel today, it's still possible to witness the same scene the disciples saw 2000 years ago when the Bedouin shepherds bring their flocks home from various pastures at the end of the day.
Applying the pressure of law to ensure you do not to take grace for granted squeezes the life and power out of the gospel.
Heaven is yours now.
You are the baptized, for in Christ we are all wet. The demographic dividers are washed away.
Sin is a heavy thing to bear. Its jacket is shame, its medals are guilt.
This is the sound of freedom. The Eternal One died so that we who are dying might live eternally with him.
He declared you what you might not always feel you are, but what you were from the moment he knew you, before you were you, when he foreknew you.
Your champion steps forward.
What if the dissonance in this calendrical coincidence can be harmonized into a deeper melody?
Christ's resurrection does not merely negate the bitterness of sin; it changes it into a source of divine sweetness, embodying the promise of a new life for us and a restored existence overshadowed by heavenly hope.
God demonstrates his great love for us in the actions of Jesus, who came down into the flesh and soaked up all our sin.