The Upper Salween Valley is an inhospitable, sparsely populated place. It may seem like an unlikely place for a Christian community to thrive.
There is a time for everything, the preacher in Ecclesiastes observed. It is now time for new leadership at the Century.
The wrenching dislocations of World War II were often pitilessly ignored by the world. What story will be told of our time, and of us?
A student I taught with recalls licking honey from Hebrew letters as a child. My own memories of religious education are less auspicious.
In the 1950s, the Adventists celebrated the milestone of a million adherents, mostly in the U.S. Now they have 18 million, mostly elsewhere.
A screen in a sanctuary used to be a signal that a congregation had taken a side in the worship wars. Now it's just a sign that a church is open and functioning.
As a second-generation Korean American, it is hard to identify stories from my past that can serve as reservoirs of understanding for my life now. “In you our ancestors trusted,” I could proclaim from those stories, “and you delivered them.”
The psalmist is not alone in claiming that humans are only “a little lower than God.” Can it be any wonder, then, that our faith leaves a great deal of room to disagree about our power in creation?
For the Bible to belong not only to the church or the academy but to the people, a guidebook is needed. Harvey Cox provides one.
After I received the request to review Kelly Brown Douglas's book, I kept seeing her main thesis displayed in the news.
Ta-Nehisi Coates is an atheist. But perhaps his atheism is precisely the kind that Christians in America need.
Nancy Sherman's message is clear: society must understand the totality of human experiences of war, including their moral dimensions.