Selected posts from around our network of affiliated bloggers
There's a common thread out there, a thought that gets passed along like a little nugget of meme-profundity. You must live in the now.
There are times when I despair at the possibility of human communication. In the last few weeks, this despair has often been triggered by opening up my computer each morning and discovering a fresh stream of vitriol and righteous indignation associated with a piece I recently wrote about Christian discourse around the Syrian refugee crisis that generated a fair amount of heat (and considerably less light, I fear). So many angry people who seem so resourcefully determined to interpret my words in such bewildering ways.
A movie about a school shooting hits theaters this week, a tragically timely release. The film documents the aftermath of a school bus shooting in which three girls were wounded and one of whom almost died.
The rich man was a good man. From not stealing to honoring his parents to loving God (and more), he hadn’t merely memorized the essential commandments of his faith. They were the benchmarks of his daily life.
Every morning my son goes off to school. He slings a giant shark backpack over his tiny shoulder, and he waves to me as I drive away from the carpool lane. And every morning as he turns into the school’s open door, the same fear catches my heart. What if that is the last time I see him?
Hope is sinewy, tenacious, and determined. It gives us strength when ours is gone, carries us into the future when we’ve been knocked-off our feet by the disappointments of the present, and makes it possible for us to trust that God is with us even when we feel alone. We can’t produce hope for ourselves.