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 great lie of addiction is that suffering must be fled, must be numbed, must be drowned out by any means necessary.
Despite the mathematical incongruity, the church confesses that Christ is one hundred percent human and one hundred percent divine.
In grace, God chooses to love his people.
This is an excerpt from Ditching the Checklist: Assurance of Salvation for Evangelicals (and Other Sinners) by Mark Mattes (1517 Publishing, 2025), pgs. 5-7.
In the liturgy, Christ is present, self-giving, and ever-addressing his people.
Christians don’t need a bucket list. We’ve got the whole bucket: the Word fulfilled, life fulfilled, and life in full.
There is no one — not now, not ever — who cannot be included in the family of God through the efficacy of Christ’s saving power.
Wisdom lurks in the outer places. Rich gratitude sprouts from the impoverished and forgotten.
By the end of this prayer of wrestling, David finally has the strength to claim victory over his lying enemies.
As you step into the days ahead, remember this: no matter how lost you may feel, you have a God who seeks you out, celebrates your return, and rejoices over you.
We now are the magi: we worship Christ because of who he is, but also because of what he has done for us and what he continues to do in his gift-giving to us.
This article is part of Stephen Paulson’s series on the Psalms.