There is comfort, and then there is comfort.
Monday lectionary email, archived here on Friday.
During Advent, the cry of Isaiah should be our cry.
I once cared for a sick and vulnerable lamb.
Once the servant digs the hole, is there any way out?
Everybody dies. My mother-in-law intended to be ready.
From dust I came and to dust I shall return—but not forever.
How can people tell the difference between a prophet and a phony?
We want to know God, but we also want to be known.
What does true joy require of us?
I enjoy the tomatoes I grow, but they aren't really mine.