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In 1595, the English Jesuit Robert Southwell wrote “The Burning Babe,” a startling, unsettling poem about the incarnation—which means, given Southwell’s rich theological imagination and deep Catholic piety, that it is also a poem about suffering and salvation. And about the human predilection to resist divine love. Three hundred seventy-one years later, Denise Levertov penned “Advent 1966.″

This week, Fox News anchor Megyn Kelly, in a segment about the race of Santa Claus, reported a bomb shell. No, it wasn’t that this Christmas, in support of Obama’s socialist policies, not just Rudolph’s nose but his entire face will be painted red.

I’ve written elsewhere about Springhouse Ministry, a church building shared by three congregations of different denominations in south Minneapolis. Here is a story about three congregations of  different faiths that are now sharing space on Long Island.

Nelson Mandela has died, and most of the TV stations have programs paying tribute to him. Over and over again journalists are referring to him as an “icon.” An “icon” of what? It still sounds vaguely blasphemous. He has repeatedly told journalists (and the world) that he is not a saint, and that he rejects the depiction of him as any kind of saint. So if he is not a saint and not the icon of a saint, what is he?

At the door of the church on a recent Sunday, I was talking to a parent of a younger boy. She said to me, "my son has finally connected with what you do! He asked me [about your preaching]: 'Is that his job?' I answered, 'yes, it is.' And then he said, '...what does he do the rest of the week?'" Exactly. The answer—only partially tongue-in-cheek—is 'he thinks about preaching.'

Recently I listened to a debate on the radio show Q, “Is the Internet making us smarter or stupider?” Lots of great stuff I’m still chewing on, but one thing caught my attention.

A couple Sundays ago, I performed a baptism. As baptisms go, it wasn't the usual fare. I've baptized babies and very little ones, and that's a delight, utterly different every time. I've welcomed adults into the fellowship of the faith, and watched as the water that poured down their faces mingled with tears of joy. But I've never baptized a kid before.