Isaiah

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

We are not prepared to be judged by Matthew.

Is Isaiah's vision of a peaceful public square a naïve hope?

Jesus' ministry is not what John the Baptist expected it to be.

The Bible uses the word fear both for fright and awe. This week's texts reveal the difference.

While we're preparing for Jesus' birth, these texts talk about getting ready for the Second Coming.

For a long time, Luther's hometown lay forgotten.

The pastor urged the congregation to sign an antigay petition. Clare Byarugaba knew she wasn't the only gay person there.

Much is made in our time of creativity, imagination, and vision. Some lament that we have lost these qualities as a civilization; others search and find pockets of each like a light in the dark night.

Jesus sends his disciples out “like lambs in the midst of wolves.” We live in a time when intimacy is erased, privacy laughable, rhetoric rude and rusty. The notion of going out as lambs to wolves is apt, even if the wolves and lambs may be interchangeable.

This election season, we've seen a lot of hatred and inhospitality directed toward Muslims and toward migrants. There is talk of building walls instead of bridges, a focus on fueling the politics of fear instead of concern for human need.

In 1 Kings 8 we see an alternative.

On Good Friday we face conflicting urges, on multiple fronts.

On the one hand, I don't want to be one of the Christians who Gardner Taylor called "a Resurrection people, but not a Crucifixion people." I don't want to rescue Jesus from the cross--the weekly tendency of many preachers, and I think a poor interpretation of "bringing the good news." It is a reality: Jesus died.

On Good Friday we face conflicting urges, on multiple fronts.

On the one hand, I don't want to be one of the Christians who Gardner Taylor called "a Resurrection people, but not a Crucifixion people." I don't want to rescue Jesus from the cross--the weekly tendency of many preachers, and I think a poor interpretation of "bringing the good news." It is a reality: Jesus died.

We don’t talk about idolatry much anymore, despite the caution against it in everything from the Ten Commandments to the New Testament epistles. This is ironic, because idolatry flourishes in our culture.

We don’t talk about idolatry much anymore, despite the caution against it in everything from the Ten Commandments to the New Testament epistles. This is ironic, because idolatry flourishes in our culture.

As anthropologists have shown us, cohesive communities usually have narratives, traditions, and symbols that have shaped their collective psyches and have powerfully bound them together. These traditional practices make up their thought world, and when a person is displaced from that world, it makes less sense to carry on the practices.

My father grew up in a clan society in pre-Korean War North Korea. His grandfather was head of the Shin clan.

When our collective symbols and stories no longer make sense in our reality, we question who we are. After exile and liberation, the ancient Israelites were so devastated that images of overwhelming waters and fire speak to them.

If all it took was a star to compel a person to Bethlehem, the Magi would arrive to see a multitude.

My words feel small. Like I’m trying to beat back the ocean with a stick. I could command the waves to stop, but the sea will keep pounding the sand. Recent world events have generated a lot of fodder for preachers and writers, and yet I have nothing to say. 

The tension between the joy of the first three readings and the judgment of the Baptizer’s proclamation is theologically instructive. It presses us to hold the two together.