Take-Out Evangelism
When a man approached me in the mall food court and sheepishly asked if I had a few minutes to talk about Jesus, I reflexively smiled and said, “Oh, I’m already a Christian!” before realizing I wasn’t completely lying this time.
When a man approached me in the mall food court and sheepishly asked if I had a few minutes to talk about Jesus, I reflexively smiled and said, “Oh, I’m already a Christian!” before realizing I wasn’t completely lying this time.
Marilynne Robinson’s debut book is lyrical, atmospheric, and completely absorbing, the “literary equivalent of a Sigur Ros song” as I tried to describe it to a friend.
This year, we decided to let the writers speak for themselves.
This year, we decided to let the writers speak for themselves.
This year, we decided to let the writers speak for themselves.
The problem is not that progressive folks misidentify problems.
[Untitled] is cathartic—not because it offers any clear-cut wisdom but because it tells personal stories honestly, which might actually be real wisdom.
It wasn’t stated aloud, but the message between the lines was this: You’re the last Meekhof.
“I just need to know if it’s worth hoping,” we say. “Is this guy the One or not?”
On this aðfangadagskvöld, it’s my duty to tell you specifically about the final Yule Lad, who arrives tonight. His name is Kertasníkir, and if you know Icelandic, you’re clutching your candles.