It is death that deserves derision, not the disciple who reaches through sorrow for his Lord.
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.

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I think the problem with the idea of eternity is that we do not have any direct experience of it, but we encounter enough of its possibility to be unsettling.
The gospel's message is the scandalous announcement that Yahweh has stooped to our frame, to where we are.
As the writer to the Hebrews affirms, what makes the Christian gospel so much better is that we are no longer dealing with “types and shadows."
God resolves his wrath through the unexpected giving of his Son.
Toy Story is indeed a Christmas story.
That great truth of creedal Christianity – that God is man in Christ – is not set forth for our speculative enjoyment.
It makes perfect sense that the day honoring Jesus' birth would be observed in a decidedly less than refined manner.
When we pray to Jesus, we pray to the King's right hand. We know one who has the Father's ear, respect and trust. And the one who intercedes for us is still one of us, with nail-pierced hands.
Psalm 98, with its promise of a sea and mountains singing, takes these imposing natural features and turns them into a praise choir.
Despite our best efforts to avoid him, King Jesus remains very much unavoidable.
The king has arrived and has already begun his reign forever and ever.
God the Father sent us – his wayward, sinful, and naughty children – his own series of Father Christmas Letters.