In times like these it is easy to sympathize with the sentiment expressed in Isaiah 60:2, which says, “For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples.” It often feels as though we were swaddled in darkness, doesn’t it? As though we were groping about in a thick fog, waiting impatiently for the sun to rise and melt away the mist so we can see clearly again. At times it can be difficult to remember what the world even looks like when we can see clearly. Despair and cynicism begin to look like viable options.

Conventional wisdom holds that sins are things we try to hide. We feel shame about our sinfulness, so we try to conceal it from the prying eyes of other people and, if we could manage it, from God. But there is one sin that pervades the church—it runs rampant among the most devout and the least—and not only do we not try to hide it, but we even wear it as a badge of honor. The sin I’m talking about is worry.

Jesus is passing through the city of Jericho, and he has other things on his mind. He is on his way to Jerusalem, and his plan to confront the religious and political powers there could possibly (quite probably, really) end in disaster. It has been weighing on his mind for months, this likelihood that his mission and journey will find its completion on a Roman cross.

“By grace you have been saved” (v. 5). This short sentence helped to start a revolution. Among other passages of Scripture, especially from the epistle to the Romans, this statement prompted Martin Luther to launch the Protestant Reformation 500 years ago.

Last week a White man walked into a Dollar General store in Jacksonville, Florida, and opened fire, killing three Black people in a racially-motivated attack. He left behind a rambling, nearly incoherent “manifesto,” in which he propounded his racist ideology and declared his intention to kill Black people.

It’s no secret that the Bible speaks with many voices and that those voices do not always agree. Many parts of the Bible, for instance, depict prosperity as a sign of God’s favor.

Here we stand, trowels in hand,
spreading mortar and replacing bricks
in the wall Christ broke down.
Like Kool-Aid® Man, with a mighty “Oh, yeah!”
he crashed through, scattering
debris in all directions.

On Monday Ugandan president Yoweri Museveni signed into law a draconian bill that would impose extremely harsh penalties for homosexual activity. Simply having a sexual encounter with someone of the same sex can land you in jail for the rest of your life. The very attempt to engage in gay sex is punishable by a decade in prison. And “aggravated homosexuality,” which includes same-sex relations with children or disabled persons, can earn you the death penalty.

The plink plink of water dripping in the bowl is the only sound in the room. Even the breathing has seemed to stop, save for the occasional sharp-indrawn breath or gasp as the rabbi’s callused laborer’s hands grasp a heel or sponge an instep with his sopping rag.

Traditional Christian theology, influenced by Hellenistic philosophy, has often depicted God as essentially changeless—the Unmoved Mover, as Aristotle put it. Impassivity was considered a virtue in a deity, partly because it contrasted so strongly with the capricious nature of gods and goddesses in pagan mythology. To be unchangeable was to be dependable; an Unmoved Mover could not be influenced or shaken by outside forces, but could rather be relied upon to be the same “yesterday and today and forever” (Heb 13:8).

I watched an episode of “Nature” last night on PBS, and it was all about large animals—how they survive, how they feed themselves, what their biggest challenges are, and so on—and it featured the biggest animal of all, the blue whale. Not only is it the largest animal in the world today, but scientists also believe it to be the largest animal that has ever existed. At as much as  100 feet and 220 tons, it dwarfs even the biggest of the dinosaurs.

The writer of 2 Timothy claims to be Paul, and he claims to be writing to his protégé Timothy, but many scholars have serious doubts about whether this is true.