Romans 7

In the company of church members in recovery from addiction, I’m feeling more open to the doctrine of original sin.

In Oberammergau, the keepers of a centuries-old tradition have made
big changes—including efforts to expunge antisemitic material.

Social media platforms are damaging democracy, and it’s not primarily about what speech they do or don’t moderate.

An ELCA bishop apologized for sexist comments he made—without claiming that they were out of character.

Wright tells a great story. Would the apostle recognize it?

"It's a sin problem," goes the slogan, "not a gun problem." Whatever definition of sin is operative here, it isn't Paul's.

True character is only formed over long periods of time.

I would have been embarrassed, downright ashamed to be associated with gluttons, drunkards, and sinners.

Encounters with God happen, and they are known by their liberating effects. How can confirmation class support such encounters?

In Romans 7, sin seems to have at least as much agency as Paul does.

One way to approach the epistle text for this week is to talk about the spiritual discipline of saying yes and saying no, an idea I was first introduced to by M. Shawn Copeland. (I find The Message translation of this passage helpful here.) God created us with the freedom to say yes and say no. But as Paul reminds us, we don’t always know how to use this freedom very well.

We learn to be Christian not when we succeed at perfection but when we realize that we will always fail.

Is there any chance that people will not sin?

"Do not touch.” “Do not taste.” “Don’t walk on the grass.” What is it about me that wants to do exactly what signs instruct me not to do? The warnings are probably for my benefit. The signs are not evil. So why do they bring out the worst in me?

For a Christian, freedom means being the one whom God intends us to be.