Matthew

So it turns out that losing is good for you after all. According to social scientists who study these things, all those participation trophies kids receive for just showing up are not inspiring them to succeed. Instead, the ceaseless praise only protects kids from failure—so that once it inevitably appears, they are so demoralized that the next time it comes close they choose cheating rather than risk failing again.

The gospel has always understood the critical importance of failure in the path to true life.

I am lucky enough to serve a church, in Chicago, where people are excited about coming to worship. I teach new member classes, in which many people cite worship as the thing that has really drawn them to want to get better connected with the church.

Leadership is big these days. And I've become suspicious of our emphasis on what looks more and more like leadership for leadership's sake.

We are instructed to love our enemies—not necessarily to forgive them.

As I read the headline yesterday, my heart began to pound and my throat closed up: “School Clerk In Georgia Persuaded Gunman To Lay Down Weapons.” This was a good story—ultimately a hopeful one—but all I could see was “school” and “gunman."

James Cowan's book follows the Holy Family's path through Egypt. It is anchored in numerous conversations with monks, nuns, guides and fellow pilgrims.

Isaiah gives voice to God. God is amazed at our epistemic closure.

Sometimes we grow weary of the same texts as they come up year after year. We may even suggest that maybe this year we should not do the Christmas pageant, but a different story instead.

Bad idea.

“I’m a Christian,” said my oldest daughter, seven-year-old Miriam. 

“Really?” I replied. “So what makes you believe that you are a Christian?”

“Because I love God, God loves me, and I know Jesus came back to life after dying on the cross.”

How do we move from Jesus' core ethical mandate to the complex issues we face in the modern world?