The odds of me experiencing a heart-attack during the #NationalChampionship are higher than I'd like.
If you don't hear from me by tomorrow, it's been real, Twitter.
Go Baylor.
Update: there was no heart-attack. That was a fun, fun ride. I was cautiously optimistic before the game, but that was far more decisive than I could have hoped for.
I said to friends earlier in the year that this Baylor team, pre-Covid-break, was one of the best college basketball teams I'd ever seen.
Tonight vindicated that in a big, big way.
Everyone slept on Baylor, but this was no fluke: we really have been that good this season, our three week post-Covid recovery period notwithstanding.
This is the right take. Take out our Covid-related slump, and we are probably undefeated.
Evangelicals routinely oscillate between reifying doubt as a mode of Christian living and rejecting it as "sinful."
The former is a reaction against unhealthy communal practices that the latter simply reinforces.
An anxious faith will invariably a brittle one.
At some point, we have to consider the possibility that people shaped by evangelical contexts routinely capitalize on "deconstructing" what they have received is an indicator that not all is well.
I say "routinely" advisedly. Folks might say they're "deconstructing" now, but it's the same process that people have been exploiting for the past twenty years or so (at least).
Evangelicalism's "social vision is fragmentary, often lacks substance and strategy, and focuses mainly on a one-issue or single-candidate approach." -- Carl Henry, 1980
In 1980, evangelicals were surging into politics. Henry: "Yet some observers fear--and with good reason--that this involvement may eventually become as politically misguided as was the activism of liberal Christianity earlier this century."
Henry: "If evangelicals settle only for single-issue or fragmentary [political] involvement, evangelicals will treat public concerns as but a marginal appendage to evangelism, and remain highly vulnerable to more comprehensive political strategies of nonevangelical groups."
This is an admirable piece by @JohnPiper. But I'll confess I'm perplexed by the argument that pride is killing people equivalently to abortion, and that we should include that as part of our *political* reasoning. desiringgod.org/articles/polic…
One question is simply empirical: *does* a "culture-saturating, pro-self pride" actually kill people in the sense relevant that we could even compare it to abortion?
It certainly kills the soul, and we should fear that worse than the death of the body (Mt. 10:28).
While pride's effects on the polity may be considerable, they also seem indirect. Whether and how the government constrains the evils that arise from pride would therefore seem like an extraordinarily difficult matter of prudential judgment.
I suspect many evangelicals have discounted the importance of the 'marginally committed' to our communities.
Those who are 'marginally committed' to a church might only show up once a month. They might even only show up on Christmas and Easter.
Yet when there are enough of them, they give a community a sense of energy and vitality that it otherwise would lack.
Because evangelicalism has its roots as a renewal movement within existing institutions--think Wesley as an Anglican--there are deep pressures to make everyone "fully committed."
That doesn't just mean church attendance: it means daily devotionals, Christian music, etc.
The scandal the Religious Right has brought upon the Gospel of Jesus Christ by protecting such degeneracy breaks my heart. reuters.com/investigates/s…
This is false. The reason the media is fascinated is because they hate people who demand traditional moral values *for others* while flagrantly violating them *ourselves.*