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The wrenching dislocations of World War II were often pitilessly ignored by the world. What story will be told of our time, and of us?

I’ve seen a few people on Facebook share an image from theologian Benjamin Corey and I have to say that it bothers me.

Matt talks to the pastor of Chicago's Fourth Presbyterian about pastoral transition, being a post-liberal among liberals, and the crash course she took in the Chicago Cubs to prepare for Ernie Banks's funeral.

Nancy Sherman's message is clear: society must understand the totality of human experiences of war, including their moral dimensions.

Jesus went slowly, purposefully into the eye of the storm. Only through the storm would he find what he was looking for.

Each time I read these words from the beginning of Proverbs, I can't stop thinking about how much I would like to hear a child read them in worship.

One day, a soup-kitchen guest named what was happening: church, a worshiping community distinct from the larger congregation.

I plopped the baby on the ground beside me, mail already scattered across the grass like clumsy confetti. He lunged for the letters; I snatched them up and sighed. A long, muggy summer afternoon; too-hot kids whining about everything under the sultry sun and still hours to go before dinner. The baby grabbed the envelopes again. I gave in. Junk mail; who cares, he was happy. So I reached for the magazine instead.

Stewart Goetz’s book is provocative and carefully argued. But I am puzzled as to why the ordinary reader of C. S. Lewis would be worried about the road not taken.