There are breakthroughs which could come in seconds. They often take us hours or days or months — if they come at all. I have in mind especially the breakthroughs of insight that open a world of life-changing truth and practical wisdom.
At the fresh beginning of another new year, people are often ready to make new resolutions. What if this year, your resolution was an adjective — a word that modified everything else you do and gave it glorious meaning and purpose?
Why did God write the Christmas story the way he did? What compelled him to send his Son to be born in a humble stable and to grow up and die a gruesome, innocent death on a cross. One answer is that it was fitting.
On Tuesday, I was part of a conversation on racial harmony at the National Civil Rights Museum, in Memphis. Here are sixteen reflections on race and the gospel from my preparation for this event, as well as takeaways from the gathering.
Dissecting Christmas carols can be musical murder. Unless the disassembly fits together again more beautifully and more fully felt. That’s my goal. And “O Come All Ye Faithful” is near the top of my favorites.
It’s a celebration. It’s a thank you. It’s an explanation. It’s an invitation. I never thought of myself as a great narrator. But I do have great news. I hope you enjoy this overflow of joy from Desiring God.
This is a simple plea that those of you whom God is calling to be biblical counselors consider your counseling as a way of reaching the unreached peoples of the world with the life-transforming gospel of Jesus Christ.
All of the 10,000 people in America who turn 65 each day have wrinkles. Our skin is more flaccid. Our complexion is more mottled. Our equilibrium is more tenuous. And our hair is more scarce. The effect of aging on our appearance and our bearing is universal.
Images are images of something. We are images of God. He is the original. And our imaging is to be true and clear. That is, every person is meant to image the praiseworthiness of God. We are to be the secretaries of his praise.
And as we move into our sixties and seventies and eighties, it becomes clearer and clearer that we are traveling in the endless reaches of our ignorance, and that all the books we haven’t read, and never will, are rolling at us like a hail of asteroids.