Isaiah

Isaiah 55 gives voice to the longing we can't quite name.

Isaiah 55 gives voice to the longing we can't quite name.

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

Unabated cultural frivolity rules our churches, too.

It's Advent, and accusations against prominent men are shaking things up like a highway construction project in the wilderness.

There is comfort, and then there is comfort.

During Advent, the cry of Isaiah should be our cry.

The Magnificat rejoices in a God who acts within human history.

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

In Flint, we know something about nostalgia and despair—and hope.

We want to know God, but we also want to be known.

Hans Boersma sees scripture as more open to imaginative reading than our modern methods permit. The key is faith in Christ.

Hans Boersma sees scripture as more open to imaginative reading than our modern methods permit. The key is faith in Christ.

Hans Boersma sees scripture as more open to imaginative reading than our modern methods permit. The key is faith in Christ.

The parable of the wedding banquet is a horror story.

Isaiah invites us to remember our origins.

God builds “a house of prayer for all peoples.” All means all.

I can’t fathom a God who isn’t personal—and personally accountable.

We stood along the highway in a blizzard, trying to hitchhike. We started reciting Bible verses to pass the time.

Isaiah 50:4-9a; Matthew 26:14–27:66; Philippians 2:5–11