Light From Underground
If Dad was a critter of habit he also leaned towards being a tad superstitious.
I suppose that at least partially explains his reaction.
If Dad was a critter of habit he also leaned towards being a tad superstitious.
I suppose that at least partially explains his reaction.
I can see why John Calvin wanted to come to Strasbourg. Calvin described himself as “a man of the country and a lover of shade and leisure.” He was seeking, he wrote, a place where he could enjoy, “unknown, in some corner, the quiet long denied me.”
It would have been easier if St. Andrew’s, Sutton, Ont., had done nothing. But then they went and did it, they looked into their hearts, they discerned the Spirit at work in their community, and they decided to launch a mission.
Notre-Dame de Noyon stands only a street away from the site of Calvin’s childhood home. He would have grown up with the sound of the church’s bells
and the shadow of its towers.
I was not looking for God, Jesus or salvation and had no idea at the time what was happening to me; except I knew I needed to repent.
“Do either of you have any idea of how to get a cow out of the attic?” exclaimed Elsa in her delightful German accent.
“Say what?” I said.
Education Crash Course is the brainchild of the “VlogBrothers” (John and Hank Green). It is a clever little animated series found on its own YouTube […]
Sick, tired and overwhelmed, I was crying out to God. That’s when Eagle lifted off of his roost on a majestic Douglas Fir across the lake.
Just for Singles In honour of February, the month of little chubby babies that travel the world looking to shoot people with heart-shaped arrows, I’ve […]
What must it be like, I wondered, to found a church on the ashes of your brethren? To keep the faith at such a cost? To try to forgive other Christians who condemned your friends as heretics?
Many years ago, someone told me, “If you don’t want to hear the answer, don’t ask the question.” So, I would like to acknowledge two important instances where the Presbyterian Church has had the courage to ask the question, even if it is challenged by the answer.
I love to ponder mysteries. But the mysteries I ponder tend to be the ones right in my face, like the winter otter holes outside my picture window on Lac La Hache. I am not all that intrigued by the unseen mysteries.
Every time I have gone to Crieff Hills, I have visited the cross to pray. I have stood beneath it and I have taken all my concerns and issues to God. I sit on the bench and think about my life and how I could be a better Christian.
A New Bible Thomas Nelson, the world’s largest publisher of the King James Bible, has a new addition to its scripture line up. The Voice […]
That name may sound a bit presumptuous, but many of us were grandparents and the Grand Ladies sounded a lot better than the Old Ladies, so that’s the name that stuck. Each year it felt like coming home.
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about what it means to be church. What is church? What is worship?
The mind, I discovered, is not designed to bear a huge burden. It needs a regular break. And since I was in no position to give it one, it made an executive decision to take one. I was hospitalized for a psychotic break from reality.
It was an intimidating place to begin a pilgrimage. Standing beneath the arches of Saint-Étienne Cathedral in Meaux, France, I felt like I was lost in some great, petrified forest.
The main problem with this book is its excessive speculation—though tantalizing at times—and its simplistic ‘theory of everything.’
A young person said to me recently: “Do you ever feel that religion is too complicated?”