Sunday Collectives 5/15/17 – 5/21/17
When we realize that we were once hopeless, tied to the railroad tracks of eternal death, destined to spend eternity away from God, now the opposite is truer, because now we are the rescued. We now have hope, we are no longer condemned and nothing can separate us from the love of God. We now are the chosen Bride of Christ (Revelation 19-21). It creates a desire within us to worship God and to offer our bodies as living sacrifices.
By Sarah Taras
Most of us have been fed a version of Christianity that paints Jesus as the ultimate “bookkeeper of good deeds”. The good kids are in with God and the bad kids are out. Jesus, they say, makes us a good kid, once and for all.
By Chad West
I don’t want to give my opinions anymore. I should clarify. I most definitely will give you most, if not all, of my opinions. On life, and God, and even unnecessary things, like, let’s say, licorice: (horrible). But I don’t have any desire to climb to the tip-top of Sinai before doing so. You see, some people like licorice, even the wretched black kind, and I have zero capacity to understand how that could possibly be. There’s nothing going on there my taste buds find agreeable. Yet, some seem to thoroughly enjoy the taste equivalent of falling face first into a cow patty.
by Joseph Franks
As beloved disciples of Jesus, wrapped in his righteousness and forever safe in his arms, let us abhor playing it safe, and instead let us swing for the fences. As disciples who love the King and his Kingdom, let us fear ministerial apathy more than ministerial failure. Let us invest wisely and boldly, and look forward to the smile of our Savior and Friend.
We continue to wait for our house to sell. Waiting is hard. I thought our move would come swiftly. I thought the Lord would have us list, move, and we would be settled in a brief time. The longing for home, the longing to be settled continues. This will be my thirty-sixth move and, for however long the Lord allows, I’m ready to stop moving
The Lord prompted this move, therefore, I’m unsettled here. We are ready, the house is ready. I feel trapped in the wait although I’m free in Christ.
By Jen Wilken
They’re asking the question again: “Are you ready?” Sweet smiles of encouragement span their faces, the question mark floating in the air. I am warmed by their kind inquiry. I weigh my answer.
I remember the first time I heard that question posed in that way, with just that inflection. Nine months pregnant, March of 1996. By co-workers, by friends, by my mother. I measured my response then as well.