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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Death is never natural. Death is abnormal. Death is not human. Death is the enemy.
We demand that our Creator defend His judgment and justification of sinners in a courtroom where we are judge, prosecuting attorney, and jury.
I hear voices in my head accusing me, telling me these sins will be there on the Day of Judgment unless I make atonement.
There’s something very attractive about both the cross-ladder and the cross-crutches. In fact, there’s something about both of them that the woodworker within us finds eminently more appealing than the simple cross of Jesus.
I spend a lot of time talking to people in coffee shops. Some share my Christian faith, some are exploring and questioning faith and others have left the church, having had a crisis of faith.
Having a particularly sad day, I set out to find the Gospel of Happy.
Having a particularly sad day, I set out to find the Gospel of Happy.
Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently.
This is why a Christian must keep learning to forget himself so long as he lives.
During my recent trip to visit my daughter and her family, my son-in-law got me hooked on Leah Remini’s A&E show, Scientology and the Aftermath.
The only churches that live are churches that have died. That still die. And that rise to newness of life in Christ’s life alone.
She does not see a Christian in the mirror. She sees a doubter.