At birth my parents gave me the name “Paul”. Partly in honor of a grandfather, whose middle name was Paul. (I got the other grandfather’s first name as my middle name.) But besides the family connection, my parents named me for the apostle Paul. Giving me a reminder, every time I heard or wrote my name, that this was a person they hoped I would aspire to be like.

Here’s one you know the answer to. Is it a good thing to be childlike? Of course you got it. Jesus says it’s more than good—it’s essential:

I thought about giving these thoughts the title “Disruption”. “Transition” sounds much more positive, doesn’t it? But anytime there’s a transition, there’s going to be disruption. There are a handful of important transitions recorded in scripture, and all of them are disruptive.

Paul’s description of the fruit of the Spirit is one of the best loved, most quoted, and most studied passages in all of scripture. “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23)

We make a lot of decisions, every day. A huge proportion of those are tiny, and we make many of them unconsciously. Occasionally a big one comes along, and we may spend hours or days or weeks or longer, making up our mind. But seldom, I think, do we stop and think about how it is that we actually have the power to choose, to decide.

The admonitions we get in the apostle Paul’s letters go way beyond suggestions. They have the force of commandments. We see one such in Ephesians 4:29.

The religious environment Jesus grew up in, lived his whole life in, preached and taught in, was very concerned with “cleanness” and “uncleanness”. Among the religious leadership, it was an obsession.

A secular management consultant would tell you that the apostle Paul perfectly constructs his first letter to the church in Corinth. He has a number of criticisms and corrections he needs to convey. But first, he begins with some commendations. In fact really glowing praise for his recipients.

In the reading plan I’m using, I’m brought once again to Exodus, Probably we would work it out, but we don’t have to guess. We’re told plainly that the Exodus and Israel’s experience in the wilderness are “types” (that is, allegorical figures) of ourselves. Paul says it in 1 Corinthians 10:1-12. (Many versions read “examples for us” rather than the stronger and more accurate “types of us”.)

I’m dirt. Or at least, descended from dirt. We may not be able to trace our genealogy across thousands of years, but we know that eventually we get all the way back to Adam and Eve. Eve’s origin? Constructed from the DNA taken from Adam. (Genesis 2:21-22) And Adam’s origin? Dirt. (verse 7)

Apparently I’m not the only one who has a problem with the thoughts I entertain in my mind. If it was just me, the apostle Paul wouldn’t have had to counsel others a long time ago:

It might be something terrible—a crippling accident, or the loss of someone we’re very close to, something like that. Or it might be something wonderful—the birth of a child, suddenly being given a way to escape a war-torn country. Whether wonderful or terrible, there are life-changing events, that forever divide life into “before” and “after”.

The disciples asked a question we would also intensely like to ask Jesus: “Tell us, when will these things be, and what will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?” (Matthew 24:3) The amazing thing is, he answered. This, as you know, is his Olivet prophecy.

Perhaps you sometimes feel like this, as I do sometimes: The man declares, I am weary, O God; I am weary, O God, and worn out. Surely I am too stupid to be a man. I have not the understanding of a man. I have not learned wisdom, nor have I knowledge of the Holy One. (Proverbs 30:1-3)

Matt’s cheeks are aching, but he can’t keep the huge grin off his face. He can’t believe what’s just happened. He’s walked by this vacant lot every day for years, going to and from work. It’s overgrown with weeds, and he’s never taken a shortcut through the empty lot. But on his way home today, out of curiosity Matt had decided to cut through. Halfway across, he’d come across the foundation of a house, mostly filled in with trash. The house must have fallen down a long time ago; he’s never heard anyone even mention that there used to be a house there.

The end of another year is approaching as I write this. If you are following almost any daily Bible reading plan, at this time of year you’ll be reading the book of Revelation. Or—unfortunately—you may be skipping it. A lot of people feel daunted by all the symbolism. I’d just like to suggest a reason to not skip it.

Medical research has shown that laughter is good for us, in fact really good for us. Laughter actually makes us physically healthier. It enhances mental health. And it promotes healthy social interactions.

The account is familiar. On the day of his resurrection, Jesus talked with two followers as they walked from Jerusalem to Emmaus. They didn’t recognize him—exactly how he looked different we aren’t told. They told him of their crushing disappointment due to Jesus’s death. His response was to give probably the greatest Bible class ever.

We like this: Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30)

What comes into your mind when you hear the word “shipwreck”? It’s an event far beyond merely bad, it’s desperately bad. A disaster. Literal shipwrecks result in huge losses for the owners of the ship and cargo. Often, there is loss of life too. There may be no survivors at all.