The church of my youth taught me that salvation means having arrived. My Buddhist neighbors showed me otherwise.
"Belief is not the 'substance of things hoped for.' Faith is."
Could the Spirit's love be poured into the hearts of people untouched by the incarnation? Could non-Christians be lovers of the only God there is?
In Aristotelian terms, the gospel is neither comedy nor tragedy. Disaster is not avoided—yet the story doesn't end in suffering.
Walter Kasper contends that mercy is one of those words that we use without really grasping its profundity.
Some questions won't go away. The creed says Jesus was crucified "for us," but what do those two little words mean? What good is the cross?
Since childhood, I've been uncomfortable with the idea that accepting Jesus is an automatic ticket to heaven—and with the reverse idea.
God's "consuming fire" is the fire of holy love. It doesn't await sinners in the future; it burns up sin itself.
If you wrestle with this Matthean parable through the night, it'll leave you limping by morning. Martin Luther didn't like preaching on it, and worshipers in early October won't be in the mood for its judgment.