Join us tonight at 7 pm (Central) for the FaithTree Online Men's Bible Study. We meet via video conference every Thursday and would love to have you!

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?

It is easy to look at a life that way and decide you are not ready to speak for God—too inexperienced, too uncertain, too likely to say it wrong. Jeremiah 1 opens with a prophet making exactly that case — and God’s answer to him.

A family road trip starts with dreams of Disneyland but quickly devolves into complaints, blame, and chaos. Moses faced something far harder: leading a people from slavery to freedom, only to watch them reject the promised land itself and wander forty years in the desert. The heart, Deuteronomy 30 suggests, is the real problem—and no change of scenery will fix it.

The wall is halfway up, but rubbish still heaps high, and the strength of the bearers of burdens is decayed. In Nehemiah 4 the builders look away from what is already raised and declare they are not able—while those who mocked now gather to fight. How do you keep building when the work is unfinished and you are already spent?

When things feel overwhelming, you reach for comfort food—a buttery potato, a square of chocolate—knowing none of it will fix the job or the diagnosis. In 2 Corinthians 1:3–6, Paul calls God “the God of all comfort” while placing that comfort squarely in the midst of affliction, not beyond it. When God does not remove the pain, could comfort be arriving in a form you did not expect?
“Though a thousand may fall beside you, and a multitude on your right side, it will not reach you. Certainly you will see it with your very own eyes— you will see the wicked paid back. For you have taken refuge in the Lord, my shelter, the Most High. No harm will overtake you; no illness will come near your home.”

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.