I recently read an article saying only Christians, among all followers of all religions, begin with the premise humans are inherently evil and flawed. This I knew, but the authors went on to say the Fall itself could be boiled down to an act of pure spite. Satan knew he was doomed, and he wanted to take us down with him. That left him a single course of action: make our first parents sin at all costs, make them share in his fate of damnation, not because they had done anything against him, but because he spitefully wanted to hurt as many as possible. That was a new idea for me. Usually I avoid probing into the motives of Satan beyond "he's evil incarnate." But this also made me stop and thin

My Bible has a permanent crease at Hebrews 11, the "Faith Hall of Fame" chapter. I'd love to say it's because I'm just so holy that I read that chapter every day, but it's really because that's just how my Bible seems to have been made. (Maybe that's a sign that I should be reading that every day.) Hebrews 11 is the perfect testimony of the faithful, that great cloud of witnesses, but one phrase in particular always stands out, and that's v. 38a: "the world was not worthy of them." Officially this refers to the martyrs described in vv. 35b-40. These are the ones who were imprisoned, killed, exiled, beaten, and otherwise persecuted for the cause of Christ. Their faith was beyond question; the

"The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry," as the saying goes. I'm not sure if my blogging schedule is a "best laid plan," and I doubt mice had anything to do with it regardless, but it has nevertheless gone awry. Beginning next week, to better accommodate my schedule, I will switch to writing on Tuesdays and Thursdays instead of the current M-W-F schedule. I think that will work out better for everyone. We often make mistakes with our plans, but I feel like we typically err in one of two ways in the church: we either plan too much or not at all. A friend recently interviewed for a new position, and part of the process involved planning a worship service -- right down to the second

If I didn't have to, I'd probably stop keeping up with the news. Every day, it seems, something happens to make me want to pull out my hair. Last Tuesday, for example, it was announced Penn State would no longer have a homecoming king and homecoming queen -- because "king" and "queen" denote very specifically a man and a woman, and they can't have that. Meanwhile, a journalist claims the pope denied the existence of hell, and the ACLU is trying to stop a Kentucky law limiting abortion because, after all, they're not really babies in the womb, are they. I will turn thirty-two on Saturday -- still fairly young, if I say so myself -- and I already long for a day we could call things what they a

All week, as we edged closer to today, Friday the Thirteenth, I've seen many posts on social media saying something like, "No, I'm not superstitious. I am a little stitious, though." That seems to sum up a lot of people. To be fair, many are outright superstitious; I have an aunt, for example, who is terrified of Friday the Thirteenths (so, naturally, I remind her of all of them). Most people aren't that bad, but they still get uneasy when a black cat crosses their path, they refuse to walk under ladders, breaking a mirror definitely brings seven years of bad luck, etc. I think that's part of being human. We're all aware of the larger spiritual world, but when we try to ignore that reality,

With a degree in English, I've read a lot of poems. My favorite, though, is Percy Shelley's "Ozymandias." I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lon

Last week I had to buy more white t-shirts. My existing supply had been around for almost a decade, and I had began to notice I had about as much hole as shirt. Despite the fact they were giving up the ghost after a long and well-worn life, I was far from happy about having to buy more. I had irrationally expected those shirts to last forever, to do the job I needed them to do indefinitely. They did not. So, grumbling all the while, I bought another pack of cheap t-shirts to last me the next 8-10 years. All too frequently, what we expect does not match reality. No shirt can last forever. No child will be perfect. The test will either be easier or harder than you thought. The new job won't be

While I was growing up, my parents watched a lot of detective shows -- Perry Mason, Matlock, Murder, She Wrote, Simon & Simon, Quincy M.E., Magnum, P.I., you get the idea. Some of the shows I enjoyed, but I don't think I ever actually solved a case. (Mom, however, got them almost every time; probably still does.) The detective story was invented by Edgar Allan Poe, and in the 200 years since, it has exploded both on screen and in print. From The Maltese Falcon to Murder on the Orient Express, from Monk to CSI, everyone seems to love a good mystery. But we don't -- at least where real life is concerned. We try to root out mystery wherever we can and replace it with perfectly comprehensible fa

Easter is a fifty-day long season, and today is the first Monday of Easter! That means you're allowed to continue greeting people with "Christ is risen!" for over a month, which is really a pretty nice way to say hello. It also means we continue to focus on the resurrection and its implications for many weeks, and even then, I occasionally wonder if we can fully grasp it. As I said in both services yesterday, the resurrection of Jesus Christ changed everything. Our world hasn't been the same since. Yes, you see Christmas things and Easter things everywhere as Christians celebrate our holy days, but there are more consequences than just that. More than just the holiday celebrations, Christian