The Christian Century

I understand the people who only show up once a year, just to hold a candle of their own.

Mary and Elizabeth knew the basic truths of life.

Unabated cultural frivolity rules our churches, too.

There is comfort, and then there is comfort.

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?