The contemporary Christian musician Andrew Peterson provocatively laments “the second coming of the Pharisees” when he witnesses Christians behaving contrary to their teacher (Come, Lord Jesus, 2000). I heard this song playing repeatedly in my mind as I read Katherine Stewart’s recent book, The Power Worshippers, on the rise and danger of Christian nationalism.
To awaken our hearts to the brilliant splendor that will shine out from the birth of the Son for us, the Holy Spirit, through Isaiah, describes our fallen world as a “land of deep darkness and of great anguish.” Such a tragedy! Our world was once bathed in light, every garden bearing fruit, and the people singing for joy: the whole country filled with delights. Now we have grown cold; the streams have frozen over; the whole land has been covered in darkness. Life is one endless valley of the shadows of death.
It would be a shame if we enforced a monotone echo-chamber that no longer sparked faith-filled engagement with our dynamic societies. We ought not muzzle ourselves and allow other voices to monopolize important cultural debates. We will compromise our loyalty to Christ if we enforce a single political perspective within our church. We must dare to dialogue with each other and the world about Christ who judges every political and ideological idolatry.
What’s it like to grow up and come of age as a boy in Ontario’s near North? How does this geography of water, rocks and trees produce a man?
Our present North American culture is one in which the category “religion” has become suspect.
What does Christian faith look like in the midst of emotional collapse? I don’t mean how it looks to friends and co-workers from the outside. The question I’m asking is what Christian faith looks (or feels) like on the inside for someone who wrestles with a turbulent psychology due to mental illness.
This book is specifically addressed to people like me who find it difficult to enter a silent place of prayer where God can be encountered. Somehow we have to figure out how to get past our dependence on words.
Reflection, debate and curiosity have always surrounded miracles. By definition, miracles are mysterious. They resist air-tight definition. Like jello, they can’t be nailed down.
Walter Brueggemann, the prominent Old Testament scholar who retired a decade ago from Columbia Theological Seminary in Atlanta, Georgia is now 81 years of age. Despite his age, his retirement, his impressive number and range of previous publications, he continues to preach, teach, travel to speak and write with youthful vigour and prophetic imagination.
The American public theologian Cornel West once said that “Justice is what love looks like in public.”
Reflection, debate and curiosity have always surrounded miracles. By definition, miracles are mysterious. They resist air-tight definition.
As Reformed Christians, while we don’t take church tradition as authoritative for the life of faith today, what God has done in history can be an inspiring motivation for following Christ faithfully in our own time and place. Does someone like Kuyper have anything to offer us today?