Back in April (2019), David Doherty gave three reasons to study church history. His case was, in brief, that church history teaches us how to live well, inspires us to do so, and is ultimately an act of love for the Church. I wholeheartedly affirm David’s reasons. I would add at the outset that the confidence provided by the discipline is especially desirable. R.G. Collingwood, the polymathic philosopher of history, and himself a committed Anglican,
A few months ago, after reading Timon Cline’s review, I watched the recent documentary film Calvinist. The film is not a history of the Reformed tradition or even of the “doctrines of grace’ themselves. Rather, it’s a celebration of a distinctly contemporary moment in American Christianity—namely, the “Calvinist turn” in evangelical theology and culture that goes by the moniker Young, Restless, and Reformed (often abbreviated “YRR”). In the film’s optimistic telling, this particular revival of
“This is what the Lord God showed me—a basket of summer fruit” (Amos 8:1 NRSV). A couple summers ago we took a family vacation to the Indiana Dunes. We had a great time playing on the beach and climbing dune mountains at the local state park, while also hiking trails and observing bird life at the national lakeshore (which was recently upgraded to our nation’s newest national park). On our last morning in the area,
Abraham, my eldest, my firstborn, the one who taught me that I have enough goodness in me to help produce life. I love you. I want you to know that—and I want to live my life in a way that you have no question that this is true—that I will do everything in my feeble, human frailty to show that I love you and that there is nothing you can do that would make my
Despite a plethora of theological differences, the church of the 21st century is united by the common scandal of abuse. Moving forward involves (even) more than taking steps of prevention and accountability. Followers of Christ must also address the spiritual turmoil generated within the souls of victims and their families. This wound cries out for a healing process—one which includes a reconstruction of an incarnate understanding of Scripture. The testimonies of victims often point toward
Creation Care and Evangelicals Discussion of issues related to the environment among American Evangelicals faces a number of challenges. Let me bring three important ones to the fore. First, American Evangelicalism notoriously lacks any kind of overarching governmental bodies or institutions. The best it’s been able to muster so far are alliances or coalitions of various sorts. But these hardly serve to govern evangelicalism as a whole, nor could they. This means that works coming
When we commune with another, we forget self. We are opened to transformation. Change appears on the horizon of ego. It has deemed itself insulate, indomitable—impermeable to all that derails continuity. Yet in beginning and end, life is a gift. We receive our being from another. And we must all give up our being to another, placed under the care of those who will lead us where we do not want to go (John 21:18).
The 4th of July is an interesting American holiday; one celebrating both legal separation from Great Britain and the approval of the Declaration of Independence. American yards and beaches transform into gathering places for smoking grills, waving flags, and smiling faces. The night’s sky glistens amongst stunning aerial displays of light and color—symbolizing the hard-fought victories of our forefathers. Yet one particular—seemingly innate—aspect of the July 4th holiday has, for me, become problematic: The phrase,