Sixth Sunday of Easter (Year A, RCL)

God promises never to leave us alone.

We need more than a simple “I love you.” So does Jesus.

Early-20th-century European and North American missionaries grew concerned about it—but never in their own churches.

It’s one thing to suffer in the context of doing something bad, but suffering while doing good?

The Spirit is present. The Spirit is working.

The disruptive way of the Lamb

"I love you," says God. "We love you, too," our prayers reply.

“According to Islam, Jesus always speaks the truth. The question is how we understand it.”

Paul's approach in Athens is refreshing.

John 14:15–21

In Athens, the apostle bears witness—and doesn't try to be cool.

Lent began as a time of preparation for the covenant of baptism. The Year B Lenten readings very much ring out this theme of covenant, starting this Sunday with the covenant with Noah and its interpretation in 1 Peter as the covenant of baptism. The coming weeks feature the covenants with Abraham and with Moses and finally the covenant written upon our hearts in Jeremiah 31. Developing the theme of covenant might be an edifying way to let these Lenten scripture readings prepare congregations for Holy Week—especially the high drama of the Easter Vigil, centered on the waters of baptism.

There’s a reason that flood stories are so universal: we fear wiping ourselves out through our own violence.

One of my favorite confessions of sin is from a short poem called "Thread," by Dan Chiasson. "I am frayed where it would be highly useful," he writes, "to make a point."

Many people, perhaps most, are at least vaguely aware of one of the consequences of human sin.

Compared to other attributes we assign to God, cherishing has received little attention. It’s easily absorbed into the broader category of love. Yet cherishing is a specific kind of love—one the inspires deep commitment.

The Areopagus--the former location of the Athenian equivalent of the Roman senate--was a center of civic life. The name comes from "Ares," the Greek god of war, and "pagos," which means "hill" or "rock." The Roman equivalent of Ares is Mars, hence the translation sometimes used: the Mars Hill.