Many of us are painfully familiar with the sorrow that follows sinful acts. Whenever the cheap thrill of a transgression wears off, our souls swell with regret, frustration, and maybe even despair. But this is a good response, isn't it? Only regenerate hearts respond negatively to sin, right?
Some may consider it a morbid thing to think regularly about death. However, the Scriptures constantly direct our minds to the reality of our mortality. Why?
When my pained heart is reluctant to forgive, I have found it tremendously helpful to meditate on the following three realities:
I received an email a few weeks ago from a Christian who for years has been attempting to cease from his habitual use of pornography. To his immense disappointment and frustration, these attempts have been largely unsuccessful.
God desires for his people to live in subjection to the individual and institutional authorities he places over them.
Someone recently asked me if I believe in "once saved, always saved." It's difficult to answer this question with a simple yes or no.
Jon Bloom, co-founder of Desiring God, wrote the following sentence in one of his articles last November: "There's only one solution to anxiety: the assurance everything is going to be okay."
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.