Well, we made it to Pennsylvania. Natalie and I completed the final leg of the journey northward last weekend after spending some time with my parents in South Carolina. We drove through the night on Friday and arrived in Pennsylvania last Saturday morning, spending the bulk of Saturday resting and recouping. We were blessed, however, by several visitors who have already made us feel at home.
Around the age of nineteen, Jonathan Edwards, perhaps the greatest American theologian who has ever lived began recording what would eventually amount to seventy resolutions that would go on to define the rest of his ministerial career. Though I will never equate the theological prowess or eloquence Edwards displays throughout his evangelistic life, I am, nonetheless, determined to resolve myself to the Lord’s Spirit and grace for the duration of my ministry.
The primary thrust of Wired for Intimacy concerns the biological ramifications of pornography on the brain, especially in males. Struthers asserts that pornography not only subverts the divine gift of sex through the vilest forms of debauchery, but also fundamentally alters the male brain through cheapened, corrupted versions of what God intends to be holy and beautiful.
In John’s Gospel, one can find perhaps the most oft-quoted and debated scene in all of Christendom, that being the twilight conversation between Jesus himself and Nicodemus, the Pharisee. Nicodemus solicits the Savior at dusk, certainly betraying his consternation in engaging this Galilean carpenter turned miracle worker.
Of the Gospels, it could be asserted that the Johannine version is that which is most replete with cruciform language. Though each Gospel makes its own “turn” towards Jerusalem and, therefore, towards the cross, John’s narrative is uniquely concerned with the Son of Man’s accomplishments on Golgotha’s tree.
You have to believe me when I say that it’s not my intent to carry on eviscerating children’s television. I’m only in my late-twenties but I fear my online persona at times comes across too curmudgeonly. Nevertheless, the vocals from my 2-year-old’s favorite Disney Junior show recently assaulted my eardrums . . . and my theology.
For the past several weeks, I have been unable to escape the incredible sermon that was delivered by Washington Post columnist Michael Gerson at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. What caught my attention, though, was learning that Mr. Gerson delivered this sermon only a few short days after being discharged from the hospital for depression.
For the last several years, the persistent call on my life has been to spend and be spent for Christ. I have rarely done this vocationally, only volitionally and voluntarily, as the gospel has become increasingly precious to me. This has also taken a number of varying forms throughout the years, with mostly me divvying up my time.
We recently took a trip to Boston, Massachusetts to see the Boston Celtics face off against the Golden State Warriors in the TD Garden in the heart of downtown Boston. This was easily one of my favorite experiences. As an ardent NBA fan, and Golden State hater, it was a joy to join the virulent Celtic-fanbase in throwing jeers at the visiting Warriors players.