doctrine of justification: i need justification the need for justification is a terrible slavery i am justified because i am am i i struggle under the weight of justification the breathless struggle, the weight, the wait. what is human? – problems of method – the cross, this point of everything and nothing.…
So far, all i have described is a situation in which all ethical discourse is shut down – there are no questions to be asked – but how do we know that the moral exhortation we are hearing is right – how do we avoid the inevitable trump card from the Confessors. The…
Read this beautiful quote from B. B. Warfield, a theologian who worked in Princeton at the turn of the 19th – 20th Century. A truly great mind, and a gentle heart for God. I got a bit emotional when I read the quote and thought about times spent reading the Bible…
The Roman Catholic Archbishop of Westminster in England, Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O’Connor, last night gave a valedictory lecture at Westminster Cathedral. It includes an interesting perspective on the history of Catholicism in Britain over the last 160 years, but also some rather beautiful insights into the role of the Church…
identity is a series of relationships confession – the acknowledgement that my identity conforms to a given type conferral – the recognition by others that you belong to them commitment – the practice of indentity reinforcement what kind of identity is ‘being Anglican’ don’t want to deny the providential work of God…
a discussion – what will this look like when it’s grown we’ll never know the social presence of trees – trees that name us – trees that outlive us – trees that root us (my friend planted this tree) knowledge and function the man who cries for his tractor The romantic vision…
An Idolators Christmas He was born into a plastic trough filled with hypo-allergenic straw. The waxy rose hues of his new-minted cheeks were hand painted by Santa’s elves. O Plastic Jesus O Son of It’s easy, speaking our loose-minded language, to slap the label ‘impossible’ on all sorts…
“Hope” is the thing with feathers— That perches in the soul— And sings the tune without the words— And never stops—at all— And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard— And sore must be the storm— That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm— I’ve heard…