When you face the perils of weariness, carelessness, and confusion, don't pray for an easier life. Pray instead to be read more

When you face the perils of weariness, carelessness, and confusion, don't pray for an easier life. Pray instead to be a stronger man or woman of God.

Feast of Monica, Mother of Augustine of Hippo, 387 Augustine shows clearly the religious character of sin. Sin for read more

Feast of Monica, Mother of Augustine of Hippo, 387 Augustine shows clearly the religious character of sin. Sin for him is not a moral failure; it is not even disobedience. Disobedience is a consequence but not the cause. The cause is: turning away from God, and from God as the highest good, as the love with which God loves Himself, through us. For this reason, since sin has this character -- if you say "sins", it is easily dissolved into moral sins; but sin is first of all basically the power of turning away from God. For this very reason, no moral remedy is possible. Only one remedy is possible: return to God. But this of course is possible only in the power of God, and this power is lost. This is the state of man under the conditions of existence.

Commemoration of Ethelburga, Abbess of Barking, 675 Most Christians would agree with C. S. Lewis when he says read more

Commemoration of Ethelburga, Abbess of Barking, 675 Most Christians would agree with C. S. Lewis when he says [of the doctrine of the Final Judgment], "There is no doctrine which I would more willingly remove from Christianity than this, if it lay in my power". But we cannot do so, for two reasons: first, because it enjoys the full support of Christ's own teaching; and second, because it makes a good deal of sense. If the gospel is extended to us for our acceptance, it must be possible also to reject and refuse it. The alternative would be for God to compel an affirmative response. It would be nice to be able to say that all will be saved, but the question arises, Does everyone want to be saved? What would love for God be like if it were coerced? There is a hell because God respects our freedom and takes our decisions seriously -- more seriously, perhaps, than we would sometimes wish. God wants to see hell completely empty; but if it is not, He cannot be blamed. The door is locked only on the inside. It is not Christians but the unrepentant who "want" it [to be locked].

My windows open to the autumn night, In vain I watched for sleep to visit me, How should sleep dull read more

My windows open to the autumn night, In vain I watched for sleep to visit me, How should sleep dull mine ears, and dim my sight, Who saw the stars, and listened to the sea? Ah, how the City of our God is fair! If, without sea, and starless though it be, For joy of the majestic beauty there, Men shall not miss the stars, nor mourn the sea.

Feast of the Annunciation of our Lord to the Virgin Mary As out of Jesus' affliction came a read more

Feast of the Annunciation of our Lord to the Virgin Mary As out of Jesus' affliction came a new sense of God's love and a new basis for love between men, so out of our affliction we may grasp the splendor of God's love and how to love one another. Thus the consummation of the two commandments was on Golgotha; and the Cross is, at once, their image and their fulfillment.

And do these objectors mean to say that, because God has redeemed us from the curse of the law, therefore read more

And do these objectors mean to say that, because God has redeemed us from the curse of the law, therefore we owe him nothing, we have no duty now to him? Has not redemption rather made us doubly debtors? We owe him more than ever: we owe his holy law more than ever; more honor, more obedience. Duty has been doubled, not canceled, by our being delivered from the law; and he who says that duty has ceased, because deliverance has come, knows nothing of duty, or law, or deliverance.

THE PRESENTATION OF CHRIST IN THE TEMPLE Setting aside the scandal caused by His Messianic claims and His reputation read more

THE PRESENTATION OF CHRIST IN THE TEMPLE Setting aside the scandal caused by His Messianic claims and His reputation as a political firebrand, only two accusations of personal depravity seem to have been brought against Jesus of Nazareth. First, that He was a Sabbath-breaker. Secondly, that He was "a gluttonous man and a winebibber, a friend of publicans and sinners" -- or (to draw aside the veil of Elizabethan English that makes it sound so much more respectable) that He ate too heartily, drank too freely, and kept very disreputable company, including grafters of the lowest type and ladies who were no better than they should be. For nineteen and a half centuries, the Christian Churches have laboured, not without success, to remove this unfortunate impression made by their Lord and Master. They have hustled the Magdalens from the Communion-table, founded Total Abstinence Societies in the name of Him who made the water wine, and added improvements of their own, such as various bans and anathemas upon dancing and theatre-going. They have transferred the Sabbath from Saturday to Sunday, and, feeling that the original commandment "Thou shalt not work" was rather half-hearted, have added to it the new commandment, "Thou shalt not play.".

Far too often, young people become Christians and then search among the Church's ranks for real people, and have a read more

Far too often, young people become Christians and then search among the Church's ranks for real people, and have a hard task finding them. All too often, evangelicals are paper people. If we do not preach these things, talk about them to each other, and teach them carefully from the pulpit and in the Christian classroom, we cannot expect Christians so to act. This has always been important, but it is especially so today because we are surrounded by a world in which personality is increasingly eroded. If we, who have become God's children, do not show Him to be personal in our lives, then in practice we are denying His existence, and He cannot be anything but grieved.

At the very moment when the pulpit has fallen strangely silent about sin, fiction can talk of little except evil, read more

At the very moment when the pulpit has fallen strangely silent about sin, fiction can talk of little except evil, not indeed viewed as sin, but apparently as the invariable ways of a peculiarly repulsive insect, which it can't help, poor thing; and there is no manner of use expecting anything from it, except the nastiness natural to it.