It's one thing to hope for a new reality; it's quite another to stand before it, no matter how wonderful.
If Jesus rose from the dead, then his claims about himself and his promises to humanity warrant serious attention and response.
It’s easy to understand the allure of the shroud. In a skeptical age, a physical relic that appears to bear the imprint of the risen Christ seems like proof positive of the faith.

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“The days are coming,” and God said it. God, who kept his promise that Christ would come at Christmas.
There is no other transitionary event in human history that warrants three full months of focused attention and persistent acknowledgment than the incarnation of the Son of God.
If Jesus is indeed the same yesterday, today, and forever, everything his enfleshment brings is already assured: life, salvation, and forgiveness.
In Advent we wait, in Christmas we rejoice over the coming of Christ in the fulfillment of the promises, and in Epiphany we celebrate the surprise, the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles.
The Messenger is coming—must come—because the LORD God has promised, and He is unchanging and always faithful no matter how unfaithful His people may be.
Like Isaiah and John, we look forward to that great and glorious day, trusting the resurrected One will return as He promised.
God is in control, and we are actively engaged in God’s work of saving the world.
In Genesis 1-2, the Lord reveals—or, at a bare minimum, starts dropping some big hints—that he will be quite comfortable becoming a human being himself someday.
Throughout the Scriptures, God puts "signs" or "seals" upon people. Often these are placed upon the forehead. How do all these connected stories take us from the mark of Cain, to the Exodus, to the cross, and finally to baptism?
That's how true faith talks. It doesn't talk about itself. It says "Thank you!" to the one who gives healing and salvation.
In Christ, all things are new. This is also true in so far as His three-fold office of prophet, priest, and king.
Thanksgiving utters a confession of dependence, an acknowledgement of the gift of something not earned or deserved.