The saving truth is not that our ideals have acquired a spokesman. The saving truth is not that our aspirations have found a salesman. The saving truth is that the Word has become flesh and dwelt among us.
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In which I finally wrap up a project, learn a bit of Welsh, and wish people wouldn’t show me photos of myself
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I’m happy with my own contribution, which somehow manages to quote from two hymns and an Amy Grant song.
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Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
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In which I reach Peak Episcopalian
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Preaching, medical care, workouts, and missed deadlines
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