incarnation

Mark Jordan shows us Aquinas—and God—in the flesh.

Like Jason Micheli, I have incurable cancer. His book helped me find humor in it.

Theologian Deanna Thompson used to criticize the pervasive technological creep overtaking our lives. Then she was diagnosed with cancer.

If God can be born in the wilderness, God can be born in the dry places of our lives.

I watched the full moon cover mundane scenes with its glow. Isn't this what Advent is about?

All living things are touched by divine grace—and caught up together in movement toward union with God.

Belief in the incarnation places suffering bodies within the realm of Christian responsibility.

Much of what Christianity has long been saying about the cross of Christ is problematic. So what is to be done about it?

Flesh is indeterminate. It flows, changes over time, and is consumed and transformed. It becomes the reality of rich spiritual encounter.

KonMari approaches clutter by asking just one question: “Does this item spark joy?” But this isn't always a simple question.

What humankind needs is a love that sticks around, a love that stays put, a love that hangs on. That’s what the cross is.

Elizabeth Gandolfo's first book is not just an anthropology. Its more daring and abidingly important gift is a statement about God.

Imagine you're walking through a big city and you see a homeless person. You have several options.

I loved writing Wearing God in part because it allowed me to rove around archives from more or less every century of the Christian past. The biblical images for God that most (American?) churches today largely ignore were decidedly not ignored in earlier eras.

Ministry is incarnationally specific. Pastors are called to see their place and people with God's "lover's eye," and to love them for their particularity.

The story goes that God got a body. I’ve often pondered the relationship between incarnation and pain.

In the 12th century, a Benedictine nun had a vision of Jesus’ humanity. It couldn’t have happened on a better night.

Like Simeon and Anna, I had a rough Advent.

What is it called when we complete a sermon, art, poetry, song or writing, and there is a bit of our soul that takes form and shape? Wisdom takes on paint. Beauty becomes clothed in letters. Depths of emotion become suffused in photos. When something ephemeral inside of us takes on a concrete quality that can be shared. When our art lives on after we have departed. What is it called?