When you remember your baptism, you're not recalling a ritual. You're standing under a current of divine action that has not ceased to flow since the moment those baptismal waters hit your skin.
“The fear of the Lord” is our heart’s awakening to and recognition of God’s outrageous goodness.
The women at the tomb were surprised by Easter. Amazed and filled with wonder at Jesus' Easter eucatastrophe. And so are we.

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It wasn’t that I didn’t love. I loved deeply, but I was also aware of the much deeper reservoir of self-love that kept me from ever loving fully.
Contrary to what pop-psychology, social media memes, and your sweet grandmother told you, you are not fine just the way you are.
Mere confrontation in the form of, “What you’re doing is wrong—you need to change yourself,” can never solve the root of our problem.
I don't remember a time not knowing I was a sinner. Seriously, I've always understood that Christ died for me.
Martin Luther is not–or, at least should not–be the object of our affection.
Here, we read the mystery and majesty of the incarnation of the Son of God wrapped up into a single package
The real problem with the way we talk about Baptism in particular, and the sacraments at all, is that we are simply afraid of letting God’s Word get us.
These treasures show us that, no matter how well we think we know this poem, there’s always more layers to uncover.
It’s no wonder we’re so attached to images; we are one. We are human hyphens between the celestial and the terrestrial.
Death can make us feel like tourists or strangers traveling across the landscape of someone else’s life.
The story of these faithful Christians serves to highlight the roles of both Africa and martyrdom in the early church and today.
Nothing, not pain, hurt, resentment, bitterness, or hopelessness can separate us from God’s love for us in Jesus Christ.