The twelve disciples reclined with Jesus, the guest of honor, around the table. Without warning, a woman (John's gospel identifies her as Mary, Lazarus' sister) pushed her way into this gathering of men and broke an expensive jar of scent worth a year's wages over Jesus' head. Immediately, criticism ensued.
At first glance, it seems as though Jesus is propagating a scarcity mindset in his encounter with the Syrophoenician woman.
My husband and I were making our preparations to return to Indonesia after our home assignment in the US. On the political scene, Al-Qaeda cells erupted daily in that majority-Muslim country. The strategies of these extremists became dining table discussions among our family and friends. They asked us again and again, “Aren’t you afraid to go back there?”
I feel a new weight of responsibility, a heaviness. This confuses me since life is marching along quite well at this time.
How sad that I have so often skipped this phrase in my eagerness to jump to the armor of God. I never noticed that first I am admonished to strengthen myself.
On the brink of their marriage, we—the parents of the groom—said these words to our son and his bride.
When I read Paul's words, my first assumption was that he must have been nearly perfect. For I too have been influenced by the older generation to believe that leaders and mentors should not show any weakness. So how can Paul say that? It seems presumptuous, audacious, proud. Who does he think he is?
Why is it when everything is nearly perfect, it always changes? My nearly perfect pastor resigned last week. Of course, I know as a man he's not perfect, and I didn't even know him personally, but the church's mix of style, doctrine, leadership and preaching was nearly perfect for me. This feeling isn't new. I've … Continue reading The Certainty of Change