God’s people get the warm feast of victory, while God’s meal is prepared cold.
How intentional will we be about utilizing gospel spaces that already inescapably communicate?
Sometimes the old story is the one we need to hear again and again.

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In Simeon's hands and Anna's gaze, we are reminded of God's promise—not distant, not fading, but alive.
Belief at Christmas is neither neat nor safe. It is the path that leads to the manger and, from there, to the cross.
The world rushes forward, lighting up screens and decking out storefronts in a mad sprint toward the next thing, but Advent pulls us back.
Instead of a “how-to” manual, the Bible is a “what-you-didn’t-do” story.
One Christ rules over all of it. He is the constant, the root that nourishes every estate and every vocation.
Salvation doesn’t hang in the balance of a voting booth.
Jesus Christ is relentless. He does not give up. And with him comes the certainty of redemption.
Let your soul grieve, yes, but don’t let it be eaten alive by worry.
It is the story of a God who is not distant, not indifferent, not doing anything in half-measures, but who is here, now.
The gospel is his weapon that beats back the darkness — “I AM the Resurrection and the Life. Bow your head, bend the knee when I walk by.”
The Lion of Judah, Christ the King, Jesus of Nazareth, will not be away from us for one night.
In Christ, this world’s never-children are his always-children, because he isn’t a God of death, after all.