My wife and I were visiting the British Museum last year when we came across a group of people in the Assyrian gallery listening to a man who we thought was a museum tour guide. “This is the Black Obelisk,” he said, pointing to a statue. “It records the triumphs of Shalmaneser III in the ninth century BC. This ruler is mentioned in 2 Kings chapter 8, and if you look closely, just here, you’ll see a carving of the Israelites paying him tribute.”
The late film director Krzysztof Kieslowski was once interviewing actors for a film. During an interview, a young actress described to him how she’d go out and walk the streets of Paris when she felt sad.
How are you doing now?” my friend asked as we walked down the path. The last time Adrian and I had spoken, I had told him that my wife and I were not able to have children and the pain this had brought us.
I know a couple who have just had their third miscarriage. In two of those painful losses, they’ve held a perfectly formed, lifeless little body in their hands. While there’s much light in this world—beauty, goodness, joy—there are also the shadows of sadness, evil, and suffering.
Scene 1: Elijah is on Mount Carmel (1 Kings 18:16-39). The prophet has declared a test. He and the prophets of Baal will each erect an altar and call to their respective gods. The one who sets the altar on fire will be revealed as the one true God (1 Kings 18:24).
The Mount Grace Priory in North Yorkshire is one of England’s best-preserved medieval monasteries. For hundreds of years, Carthusian monks lived there in solitude, devoting themselves to prayer. The priory’s ruins are impressive, but a more modern monument caught my attention on a recent visit to the site.
The news came on Christmas Eve. My wife put down the phone, walked into the bedroom, and burst into tears. We were living in Australia then and had been visiting family in Brisbane, but after the call we decided we needed some time alone. So we packed our bags and started the 12-hour drive home to Sydney. That phone call put an exclamation point on a 2010 full of broken dreams.
Were the angels surprised when God sketched out the universe? Surely they were—as surprised as when they saw the first bird take flight and the first humans blink their eyes. As surprised as when they watched God Himself sew garments to cover the fallen humans’ shame (Genesis 1:1–2:25, Genesis 3:21).
“Our Father in heaven,” Jesus taught us to pray, “may Your name be kept holy” (Matthew 6:9). We affirm today that Your name, Yahweh, already is holy because it describes You—pure, perfect, far removed from evil, error, and corruption.
It’s likely we’ve read Jesus’ Beatitudes as a list of virtues— attitudes and actions that He wants us to pursue. So, we think, He wants us to be humble (Matthew 5:5), merciful (Matthew 5:7), pure in heart (Matthew 5:8), and peaceful (Matthew 5:9).
Each year, thousands of people change their names. Some of these changes reflect a deep desire for a new life. “I changed my name and it changed me,” wrote singer Alina Simone in The New York Times. “When I think back to my old self, I think of an entirely different person, not altogether likable,” she reflects. That old person, Alina Vilenkin, was put aside. Alina Simone formed a band, tried new things, and poured her “best self” into her new name.
In Clint Eastwood’s movie Gran Torino, Walt Kowalski is a cranky Korean War vet disgusted by the gangs now running his neighborhood. He gets to know Thao, a teenager living next door, after catching him trying to steal his Gran Torino car—an act forced onto the young man by a local gang.
Jenny” grew up in a home where both parents engaged in extramarital affairs and were prone to violence. In this setting, Jenny soon became emotionally and physically neglected—and vulnerable to others.