I love The Gospel Coalition, and here’s why:

“The Gospel Coalition is a group of (mostly) pastors who are deeply committed to the gospel…and want to think out of the framework of the good news of Christ—crucified, risen on our behalf, reconciling us to God, preparing us for eternity.” DA Carson

“We’ve got our eyes fixed on the fact that the gospel of Jesus Christ needs to be central—it needs to drive everything that we do in ministry and in life.” Joshua Harris

“The gospel is not proclaimed if Christ is not proclaimed.” TGC Confessional Statement

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“Wait a minute,” you might be saying.  I thought I just read this post.  Actually, you read that post.

My wife, Anna, went on a Women’s Retreat this weekend with our church, and before she left, she asked me to return a half gallon of milk she bought last week.  She said that she had purchased the milk before realizing it was set to expire the following day.  She called the store to see if she could make an exchange, and they said that would be fine.

So I went to the store on Sunday afternoon to make the exchange.  I explained the situation to the woman at the Customer Service counter, and she told me to go ahead and pick out a new carton.  After asking for directions, I headed back to the dairy section.  But when I picked up the replacement carton and checked the expiration date, I noticed it was the same as the one I was returning:  4/4/10.

Thursday, late afternoon.

Downtown Minneapolis.

Nichollet Avenue and 5^th.

Lite-Rail Station.

Clear sky, cold air.

Credit card in hand.

Ticket machine.

Credit card doesn’t work.

Thinking the machine is broken.

Step back.

Woman buys a ticket.

Man buys a ticket.

Train arrives.

Credit card back in wallet.

Board the train.

Sit and work.

Bag falls over as the train lurches.

Setting sunlight streams in the windows.

Exit the train.

Check my pockets for wallet and phone.

One of my favorite pastimes is thinking of all the things I would like to change in other people.  I find it far less interesting, and far more intrusive, to think about changing myself.  Digging to find the rough spots in my soul is difficult; throwing stones at others is far easier.

I’ve developed quite a talent for this.  I can point out the flaws of people I’ve known for years.  I can pinpoint the failings of people I’ve just recently met.  And I can even sometimes imagine the imperfections in people I don’t even know.

It’s important to know I’m an equal-opportunity fault-identifier.  I can find fault in my boss, or my wife, or my pastor, or my friends, or my parents, or my brother, or my in-laws, or co-workers, or my neighbors, or even strangers who pass by with an odd look or a certain outfit.  And I’m not talking about superficial changes, like “I wish she would not wear that hat,” or “I wish he didn’t leave his water glass half-full every time.”  I’m talking about meaningful, truth-related, character issues.

Picture yourself naked.  In public.  What do you feel?  Exposed?  Self-conscious?  Ashamed?

Adam and Eve knew what it was like to feel this way.  They also knew what it was like to feel something else entirely.  Or perhaps what they also knew shouldn’t be described as a feeling at all.  Perhaps they simply had a lack of awareness of the fact that something was wrong with them, because nothing was wrong with them at first.

They lived in the garden and walked among the trees and made their home there, all while being naked.  Moses tells us:  “The man and his wife were both naked and were not ashamed” (Gen 2:25).  But then something changed.  They were tempted, they sinned, they knew they were naked, and they hid.  All of a sudden, the freedom they had in relationship with God and one another was consumed by an overwhelming awareness of self.  And what they knew about themselves caused them to hide.

“I’ve given up everything for this.  It means everything to me. It’s why I work hard.  I got what I came here to do.  I got a gold medal; I have what I want.”

Tears have a funny way of releasing things.  Lindsey Vonn’s tears were no different.  As she stood at the bottom of the mountain at Whistler, Olympic Gold as her prize, the Women’s Downhill Champion’s tears shone brightly in the sun.

She must have been thinking of all the years she spent training for this moment.  She must have been thinking of all the expectations that were placed on her shoulders as the favorite for these Games.  She must have been thinking of the pressure that mounted as she sustained a shin injury just two weeks before the Games began.

Is it possible to talk too much about the cross?

I ask this question only because some preachers and writers and teachers seem to talk about the cross a lot.  Some do so almost continually.  We can understand why they might carry on in this way because we know the primacy and weight of Calvary.  But there are still times this thought crosses many of our minds:  “Great, so I understand the cross is important.  But can’t we move on to the next topic?”

We say this sort of thing when we feel our faith is about more than Jesus.  And in one sense, we can say this is true.  Our faith is about God’s glory, and our joy, and loving others, and meeting the needs of the oppressed, and being made holy, and sojourning through life, and laying up treasures in heaven, and all sorts of other things.

There’s a disruptive tear in the fabric of life when someone dies.  Tens of thousands of people die each day, but we live unaware of this fact until death comes close enough for us to touch.  Death becomes real during those moments as the fabric is torn, shaking us to our bones, opening up the depths of our souls to a reality we all must one day face for ourselves.

Death brings us a perspective we need but would rather not have.  James tells us our lives are like a vapor, and death rips open the belief we have that our lives are as solid as earth.  We don’t want to be told that we are to appear for a while and then vanish; this does violence to the sense we have of our own permanence and our own importance.

But death is a vital part of life.