When I thought about the church’s fascination with tithing, it struck me that Jesus never taught about it.
There are questions worth asking in life. Did I put deodorant on? Did I forget to pay my credit card bill? Should I eat the re-fried beans considering I’m on a date? These are helpful questions.
Whether we pump gas in Toronto, teach at the University of Illinois, or run an orphanage in Sudan, our work can worship God. But, how?
The brokenness never ends. It can leave us asking whether God is worth following and why, for heaven’s sake, he isn’t fixing things.
The problem with confessing is that it requires us to face the decay inside. A pearly exterior doesn’t matter – how often we go to church or the amount of our charitable donations. Confession, like X-rays, looks for the evil rotting beneath the surface.
Sweet is the season of spring: the long and dreary winter helps us to appreciate its pleasant warmth, and its promise of summer enhances its present delights. After periods of depression of spirit, it is delightful to behold again the light of the Sun of Righteousness
God loves the church with a love too deep for human imagination: he loves her with all his infinite heart. Therefore let her people be of good courage; she cannot be far from prosperity to whom God speaks “good words and comforting words.”
We live in a world that tells us we need to be better, prettier, stronger, richer, and more successful than those around us. And when we aren’t, we make ourselves feel better by putting others down.
When I first saw The Tortured Christ, by Brazilian sculptor Guido Rocha, it didn’t ask my permission, it just went ahead and seared itself into my subconscious. Every couple of months since then, The Tortured Christ pops up, uninvited. All of the sudden he’s there, blood splattering on the carpet of my brain and his screams ricocheting off the walls.
There is one area of my life that, despite my best intentions and efforts, usually ends in failure. It is the area of gardening. I rarely keep plants alive. Leafy greens, blooming bulbs and even the un-needy cacti die slow, painful deaths all around my house.