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It’s no secret that John’s Gospel often cloaks depth with simplicity. That is part of the beauty of his prose, which carries over from the Greek into many English translations. A prime example is the often-quoted John 14:6, an…
Years ago, one of my favorite Rainer Maria Rilke poems gave me a new perspective on the night, and I’m reminded of this at Christmas time whenever we sing “Oh Holy Night,” one of the most beautiful songs that has…
I always see the fresh flowers, hanging by the roadside in the fleeting dark of the morning—mostly red and white roses. They raise and lower their heads with each passing car as if to keep the time for us. The…
I went to public school. For those of you who did the same, you will know immediately the sort of apologetics you are forced to do, or at least think about doing, at an early age. I distinctly remember a…
Strange, that as I drove to the ultrasound for our second child, I received news that my ninety-two-year-old grandmother would begin hospice care. As I sat in a hospital room with my wife, watching life thrive and flicker in shades…
Perhaps one of the most pervasive spiritual problems in human history is solipsism: extreme preoccupation with one’s self. In philosophy, it is the theory that only the self exists. In both cases, the practical implication is that we seem bent…
It’s never going to end, you know—the construction on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Cranes will keep swinging, dump trucks dumping, drills drilling, backhoes clawing. By the time the roads are paved and painted, some other section will be weathered to disrepair,…
The songbirds always manage to get up before I do, so by the time I start my morning run they have already been carrying on their lyrical dialogues, mostly the robins, but the song sparrows and Carolina wrens fill in…
I just put down Robert Letham’s The Holy Trinity, and while I thoroughly enjoyed it and recommend it as an introduction to the history and development of the doctrine, there is one gripe I can’t seem to lay down. Throughout…
When did you die? Michael Allen Rogers wrote recently that he died in 1957, when he was just eight years old.[1] Personally, I’ve had several near-death experiences, but I didn’t really die until 2006, partway through my undergraduate studies. The…
