In his short but powerful book All of Grace, Charles Spurgeon wrote that weak faith, as long as it is true faith, saves a person no less effectively than strong faith: "A trembling hand may receive a golden gift."
I saw The Shack the week after it premiered. Though I did not read the book beforehand, I had read multiple articles describing how it portrays the Trinitarian God of Christianity.
I once believed that my primary mission field was the LGBT community. God had not revealed this to me, nor had he especially burdened my heart for this particular group of people.
One of God's first acts in his newly instituted church was killing two of its members.
My friend Ben recently told me he fears he may not be saved. When I asked him to share with me the reason for his lack of assurance, I expected him to divulge that he was being mastered by some secret, besetting sin or that he was growing doubtful about the truthfulness of the Scriptures.
God calls Christians to an odd kind of life — one that is lived in the present, transient world but lived for the future, eternal world.
Do you ever worry your faith might fail before you finish the race (2 Timothy 4:7)?
I had read the book of Romans countless times, but on one particular day a theological truth in chapter five startled the mess out of me.
Jesus doesn't hand out Get Out Of Hell Free passes — he hands out crosses. He warned it would not be those who merely profess his lordship over their lives that inherit the Kingdom of heaven.
That is an unpopular idea right there — that God opposes the faithless. It's definitely not something frequently proclaimed from pulpits in America.
Almost every time I have gathered with a group of believers to study the Old Testament, at least one person has said something like, "Wow, we are just like Israel!"
There are days, weeks, or even prolonged seasons in which Jesus' yoke seems unbearably hard and his burden feels crushingly heavy. The reasons for this disconnect between Christ's words and our personal experience is definitely worth pondering.
I don't know about you guys, but my time seeking the Lord every morning is often a less than electrifying experience.
It makes sense that Paul would quit asking God to uproot this form of frailty from his life after God clearly said he would do no such thing. But why did he go so far as to begin boasting in it?
The unbelieving world has always looked upon the church with a contemptuous glare, harshly criticizing, ridiculing, and even vilifying her. In his farewell discourse, Jesus predicted this animosity that the devil's offspring (John 6:32) would have toward God's sojourning children (John 15:18-25).
A person cannot truly abide in Jesus Christ while simultaneously rejecting the truthfulness and authority of God's written revelation. Why? Here are just a few reasons:
Four years ago, I made a very public mess of my faith. In a season of obstinate resistance to God's grace and faithless disobedience to his gospel, I was "outed" for having a profile on a gay social networking app.
"It's never too late to come back to Jesus" — various versions of this statement appeared throughout the comments section of an article I wrote last summer.
Have you ever felt like your Christian experience is of such a peculiar nature that the believers around you are utterly unable to relate to you?
Is it possible to actually avoid God while submerging ourselves in spiritual disciplines and Christian activities? I believe it is.
Someone recently suggested I write about what it looks like in daily practice to live faithfully in Christ.
I had a conversation a couple of weeks ago with a self-described atheist who blamed his adamant disbelief in God on the abundance of evil in the world.
I have recently heard a lot of chatter about a certain series on Netflix. So, after finishing Madam Secretary (which I highly recommend), I decided to give it a go.
God wants us to be watchful people. The Bible bleeds with cautionary words that are intended to widen our spiritual eyes so that we pay careful attention to the condition of our hearts.
Are they right? Is my mere experience of same-sex attraction a sin? Is it impossible for me to please God as long as these feelings persist?