
When corruption seems everywhere, it is tempting to imagine that the world just needs a few good people willing to play Batman and set things right. But Psalm 14:3–4 says everyone has turned aside, forcing a harder question: What happens when the same sin we fight in others begins corrupting our own good intentions?

Every lie, every broken relationship, every disease, every death—Genesis 3 is where it all traces back, and calling it “the fall” doesn’t come close to doing it justice. What went wrong in that garden wasn’t just a mistake; it was a cosmic tragedy, and the question God asks in the wreckage of it has a way of landing personally.

It’s a relief when a warning light disappears—unless the problem under the hood is still there. In Matthew 9:35–36, Jesus heals sickness, preaches the good news of the kingdom, and looks with compassion on people who are helpless and without a shepherd. What does his compassion say about the immediate burdens we bring to him and the deeper need we cannot afford to ignore?

We know the word fool, but do we recognize who the fools are? Do we recognize when we’re the one playing the fool? Psalm 14 helps us better understand real foolishness.

A mute man speaks, and the crowd says nothing like this has ever been seen in Israel. The Pharisees watch the same moment and reach for another explanation. Matthew 9 puts those two reactions side by side.
“For I know what I have planned for you,’ says the Lord. ‘I have plans to prosper you, not to harm you. I have plans to give you a future filled with hope. When you call out to me and come to me in prayer, I will hear your prayers. When you seek me in prayer and worship, you will find me available to you. If you seek me with all your heart and soul, I will make myself available to you,’ says the Lord. ‘Then I will reverse your plight and will regather you from all the nations and all the places where I have exiled you,’ says the Lord. ‘I will bring you back to the place from which I exiled you.’”

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.