This ancient “tale of two mothers” concerns far more than theological semantics—it is the difference between a God who sends and a God who comes.
This story points us from our unlikely heroes to the even more unlikely, and joyous, good news that Jesus’ birth for us was just as unlikely and unexpected.
Was Jesus ambitious or unambitious? We have to say that the answer is…yes.

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We did not say “Goodbye” to our son on the day of his burial. We said, “Luke, we’ll see you soon.”
Faith is like a horse with blinders because it only beholds God’s promise. It is obsessed with what God has already said.
We set our minds on things above, but our feet are firmly planted in the stuff of earth, our hands open to the treasure which is our neighbor.
According to the Law, everyone will be judged by their own deeds, on his own work. So, before the judgment of God we only have our own works to boast in and not our neighbor’s. But the Gospel shows us a wonderful exception.
God excludes our boasting out of his abundant mercy.
The sacrifice of Jesus stands completed, once for all, and we believe in the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.
On this Maundy Thursday, in particular, let the “for you” of Christ’s gifts dominate.
The promise is rooted in the fact that the only way we can endure any ounce of suffering in this life is because Jesus Christ is tending the soil of our lives.
As the greater and more faithful Son of God, Jesus did what the Israelites could not do. Neither can we.
Death is not the continuation of an adventure; death is being planted in the ground. The adventure belongs to the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.
The foundation of the faith Paul wants you to cling to is not an abstract principle, but a human body: the human body of Jesus, that once was a corpse, and now is alive forever more.
Paul imagines a time when we are no longer immature children, seeking to show off spiritually, but instead demonstrating the maturity that comes from edifying others.