As I Was Saying is a forum for a variety of perspectives to foster faith-related conversations among our readers with...
As I Was Saying
We don’t often think of Advent as looming. But here is a time of darkness, preceding the Redeemer’s birth into a dark and cold night.
If the Holy Spirit holds the cosmos together (every facet of every human being’s biological, relational, educational, social, and economic life), and if holding means nearness, then surely every time a human being wakes up to God, that moment is a remembering of a presence that’s always been there.
Living among people whose suffering is relentless, heartbreaking, mind-numbing, has changed me. I am hungrier for heaven’s healing than I have ever been.
Songs of praise often celebrate God taking us from our hurts; songs of lament recognize God with us in our hurts.
The heartfelt question was posed to me in the waning moments of an evening filled with the easy camaraderie that forms between those walking a pathway of similar joys and sorrows.
Psalm 137 is, for me, the prayer in the Bible that most accurately expresses the extreme rage that comes with the experience or observation of the world’s worst abuses
Does legalized cannabis help me to better love and serve God and my neighbor?
Deciding to take it all on doesn’t convey a healthy trust in God’s provision, or trust in others to be the elbows while I focus on being the spleen (to stretch a biblical metaphor).
To me the five points of Calvinism articulated in the Canons of Dort summarize some wonderfully assuring teachings from Scripture.
A re-think of the role and place of servanthood and leadership in the church is long overdue.
When I first met Attie, I was a sleep-deprived mess of nerves and disappointment.
In one way or another, it seems Christians keep coming back to the question What makes the church the church right here, right now?
Surrounded by a preacherhood of all believers, we have more than enough resources to deeply engage God’s Word through creation—if we’re willing.
Here, I talk to my friends, and in their addictions, I see my own. In their mental battles, mine. In their broken relationships, their endless struggles, their long, slow, slog, mine.
After a short conversation—with me communicating via a computerized voice machine and using a wheelchair for mobility—the man turned his back on me and asked Eric, “So . . . do you take care of her?”
Because all of us are capable of all kinds of evil, we need to prepare in advance so that we can make safe environments to focus on the gospel of Jesus Christ.
In our present context, discipleship means a long-term commitment to obey the commands of Jesus: to model our lives after him, allowing ourselves to be changed as we journey so that we may become like him in character.
God opens doors not for those who are strong, creative, or self-sufficient but for those who have little power.
Righteous anger at blatant injustice and ungodliness can morph into mere outrage, a cheap adrenaline high damaging to both yourself and others.
Ever since these four days, every time I read Psalm 8, I see the Drakenstein Mountains and the faces of these African entrepreneurs.
The abundant life God extends to us in Jesus Christ is much more than a personal holiness of avoiding overt sins.
If my prayer is answered, I want to plant a church in my parents’ hometown so that I can share the gospel with everyone. I want to tell people there is a Home far more precious than our own hometowns.
We say it takes a village to raise a child, so what do we do when we no longer live in villages?