
We tend to equate complex with superior. But that can deceive us into missing the truth.

You can spend hours in an old adventure game, testing gems in random combinations, unsure whether the puzzle has any answer at all. That sounds familiar because we wonder the same thing about life. Isaiah 40 speaks to people wondering if God has left us with a random jumble of puzzle pieces and assures us there’s something more.

Few prayers are more dangerous than “God, give me what I want”—especially when what you want looks strong, secure, and respectable. In 1 Samuel 8, Israel asks for a crown “like all the nations,” rejecting the King already among them, and God grants the request—setting in motion a search that turns from outward stature to the hidden allegiance of the heart.

The wall is nearly finished when a reasonable-sounding invitation arrives—come down to the plain of Ono and talk. In Nehemiah 5–6, exhaustion, financial injustice, and relentless opposition pile up just before completion, confronting anyone tempted to step away with a searching question: when pressure rises and alternatives beckon, what keeps a worthy calling from being abandoned?

As daylight fades earlier each evening, familiar rooms become harder to navigate—and life can darken just as predictably. In 2 Corinthians 1:7–11, Paul refuses to minimize an affliction so crushing that he despaired of life itself. His words confront the question that surfaces when relief does not come: where can hope rest when personal strength is gone?
“Jesus said to them, I am the bread of life. The one who comes to me will never go hungry, and the one who believes in me will never be thirsty.”

The Boys are back — one standing, one sitting — both trying to make sense of Cardinals chaos, Blues heartbreak and the first hundred days of Trump 2.0. Plus: speculation on the next album from Taylor Swift and a meditation on the mystery of Jesus’ two natures.

I am provoked by an internet presence that goes by “Redeemed Zoomer,” presumably a 20-something young man holding theologically conservative views, and similar views on Christian ethics, who is Reformed.

When one of my sisters phoned the other day, we got to talking about the church in which we grew up.
We were raised high-church Episcopalian. When you went to church there was no other place it could possibly be and nothing but worship could have possibly been going on. As the priest consecrated the body and blood for communion, he — yes, he — faced the altar and crucifix. We received communion on the tongue while we knelt at the communion rail. The lay readers — those who read the Epistle at each service — were enrobed, as were we acolytes.

“Don’t Be Evil.” If you’ve followed the tech industry long enough, you know that used to be Google’s motto. Whatever happened to that Google? We could ask that of our attempts at mere avoidance of evil, too.