1 Thessalonians

Paul focuses on Christ—and then on others.

In our world, as in Paul’s, power announces itself by volume.

God may be found in anyone at any time.

What we witnessed at the Super Bowl was less a performance than an invitation.

Recently I attended the trial of a woman accused of killing a college student in a hit and run.

Paul, speaking for Silas and Timothy, offers a layered metaphor.

It’s really tough to value the gifts inherent in finitude when beloved ones are dying.

Stephen Fowl’s fresh approach to the study of idolatry

Everybody dies. My mother-in-law intended to be ready.

Like John the Baptist, progressive Christians tend to define ourselves in the negative.

 How can people tell the difference between a prophet and a phony?

How is thankfulness engendered? By giving thanks in all circumstances.

We seem to always want something—anything—to happen. This has implications for the life of prayer.

In my Century lectionary column for this week, I wrote about Zephaniah 1 and 1 Thessalonians 5, with their shared theme of the “day of the Lord.” Zephaniah’s account is particularly fearsome, and it serves as important background for the medieval liturgical text “Dies Irae.”

I chose to focus on these passages because they are hard to hear. Initially they seem so alien, and yet on second reflection, their scenes of destruction are so terribly familiar.

Are our days of destruction the "day of the Lord"?

In June 2012, my Uncle David died. Years of diabetes caused his body to wear out. He was 60 years old.

For my mother, who was 20 years David's senior, the news was devastating. She was supposed to be the one who died first, not her baby brother.

We have, in fact, been given a simple code for living.

Psychologists describe a "middle knowledge" of the reality of death. How much of this knowledge is good for us?

Multitasking is marked by a sustained sense of urgency in a world mediated by communication devices. Puttering is something different.