We get the exact opposite of what we deserve.

For every child in a mother’s womb, the whole host of heaven and earth, indeed God himself, intercedes.

The real Jesus isn’t trapped inside a church’s ATM. He’s smack dab in front of you, grinning from ear to ear, laughing and loving you with a crazy grace that already filled your bank account with millions.

God in Jesus takes off your shirt of shame, your bitterness, your anger, your guilt, your hopelessness, and drapes these rags on himself.

If affairs always begin by believing lies, then repentance always begins by believing the truth: the truth that you are in the wrong, the truth that you have a God who loves you in Jesus Christ, and the truth that he and he alone can save you not only from adultery but from every sin that seeks to lead you down the path of destruction.

The only recourse we have is to die before we die. To give up on a fake-life. To acknowledge that this stupid, selfish game we’re playing with our immortality projects has zero success.

The world doesn’t need dads who are more stressed than they already are. It needs fathers who care for their families, not in heroic ways, but in common, everyday ways.

This rather unique human being is God grounded in our humanity. The man Jesus.

This coming Sunday churches around the world will celebrate the big, splashy day of Pentecost. As well they should.

He has given you clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and home—as well as grocery stores, carpenters, and farmers to provide those goods.

The church’s worship should boldly and explicitly do two things: confess the incarnation and practice for the resurrection.

Some form of the Rule of Benedict will not save or reinvigorate the church. The church already has what the church needs to do her work in the world: she has the Gospel.