We are citizens of the Kingdom of God. Our hope is not tied to Washington, DC. Our confidence is invested in the character of God.

So, what posture do we adopt when the world goes bonkers?

It’s called the Equality Act. There is nothing equal about the bill-set-to-become law.

Is there any benchmark? Any standard? This is a crazy storm? I need an anchor.

What if you and I have revolutionary options that are within the law?

In four or five weeks, after I’ve cleaned up the kitchen, and drunk my bourbon, I will place my gathered materials before me on my desk and cry unintelligible sounds before God-my-maker. What is there to say? To do? My heart will confess my sin, forced though it is, as my soul wretches in shame at what I’m required to do.

The national debate over abortion centers on two perspectives: 1) Is it a woman’s right to have an abortion? 2) Is the fetus a pregnant woman carries a human being or a lump of tissue?

Dr. King was celebrated at the beginning of this week for good reason. He was correct about light being the antidote to darkness. It’s a magnificent statement. But it begs a pleading question: Where exactly is this necessary, essential light going to come from?

Millions and millions of us were not at the US Capitol on Wednesday, but we found ourselves caught in the riot of late (who knows when this uprising began?).

The right question is, what’s the next right thing for me to do—for my spiritual life, my relational life, my professional life, and my personal life?

Long ago I determined that if I was going to write, I was going to write honestly, transparently, and efficiently, making every word work as hard as the other words on the page.

I’m confused and all beat up. My head is bloodied, but unbowed. That’s neither here nor there. I know what to do. I fix my focus on Jesus. Here and now, I declare sola Christos my war chant.

Are you grieving the defeat of Mr. Trump? Are you hopeful Mr. Biden will deliver for you? When will it dawn on you that this world does not—cannot—salve what aches in your soul?

“My vote—our vote—doesn’t matter. That’s why we’re praying. Besides, there’s nobody Christian running for office.”

The lions may go away. They may eat you a bite at a time. They may devour you.

God invites us to lean into Him. He pledges to lean back in return.

By the time everyone else flies in, the sparrows have already made a mess of large proportion—or at least I thought it was a mess.

In November we are not voting for our next pastor.

The word means without precedent, never having happened before. There’s no map, no template, nothing to go on. That’s not true.

Abrasiveness believes you are defined by outcome. Persistence believes you are untouched by outcome.