Yahweh who is pierced and mourned in prophecy is Jesus who is pierced and mourned in fulfillment.
There is indeed a responsibility for the church to share the gospel in the world, but never at the expense of the church’s charity and mercy for those neighbors who are nearby.
The only hope for idol-addicted sinners who are utterly incapable of decluttering their souls is Jesus, the one at the heart of the gospel, and the only one who stands before the Father with an undivided heart.

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Jesus is many things. He’s an example. He’s a teacher. He’s a great thinker and philosopher. But He’s also so much more, and He’s one thing above all else: He is Jesus, Savior.
If he was not flesh, who was hung on the cross? And if he was not God, who shook the earth from its foundations?
Last night was one of those nights when I had an unscheduled 3:00 a.m. Life Assessment session.
This had been a lonely year, though. She could keep herself busy for a while with friends and she could distract herself for a few weekends by leaving town, but something was definitely missing.
There’s some wild and untamed prayers in the psalms. But they’re fenced in by order, symmetry, predictability. They organize chaos. And they bring order and hope and stability to our chaotic lives.
Some days, people need a touch. Not just any touch, but something that says, "I care about you, and I love you."
Looking at our dining room table most days, you might think we were running a cartoon factory out of our house. Drawings. Everywhere.
Wisdom speaks in proverbs, parables and riddles. And the simple continue to wander right past her words of life.
But that’s the way he rolls, isn't it? By misquoting, manipulating, and ripping God’s word out of context, the devil wields it as a weapon to drive us to doubt and pride.
A single, fifteen minute sermon that proclaims Christ and him crucified for you is more important than hundreds of hours of lectures by experts on revitalizing your ministry.
The preacher does not merely send out the raven. From the pulpit flies forth the dove of the Gospel.
It is the strangest of morgues—people arrive dead as doornails and leave alive.