Max Lucado, a prolific author and the teaching minister for the Oak Hills Church in San Antonia, Texas, spoke last week at a virtual service for The Washington National Cathedral, a prominent Episcopal church.
His appearance was opposed and generated an online petition signed by 1,500 people demanding the National Cathedral rescind the invitation. Why? Because of Lucado’s view on traditional marriage. Furthermore, they claimed he “has inflicted serious harm” on the LGBT community. Continue reading
What is Christianity?
“Christianity, in its purest form, is nothing more than seeing Jesus,” writes Max Lucado in God Came Near. “Christian service, in its purest form, is nothing more than imitating him who we see. To see His Majesty and to imitate him, that is the sum of Christianity” elaborates Lucado. Continue reading
Wemmicks were a community of painted wooden people in the children’s book You Are Special by Max Lucado.
Some of the Wemmicks were new and shiny. Others were chipped and peeling. Every day in Wemmicksville, they all received stickers. Some got gold stars, while others were given gray dots.
Punchinello, the main character, suddenly realized that only the pretty, shiny Wemmicks received the gold stars. He, and the others, got gray dots. So he decided he must not be worth very much. Continue reading
“You mean to tell me God became a baby and He was born in a stable?”
This question was asked by a young man following one of Landon Saunders lectures. It was obvious this man wasn’t being cynical, or seeking attention. He just had to understand. So he half asked and half stated what Saunders had been explaining. Continue reading
“Why did my Savior come to earth?” asks J.G. Dailey in his famous hymn.
“Why did He choose a lowly birth?”
“Why did He drink the bitter cup of sorrow, pain and woe?”
“Why on the cross be lifted up?” Continue reading
“I suspect the most consistent thing about life has to be its inconsistency,” wrote Max Lucado in his classic book, “No Wonder They Call Him the Savior.”
“It’s this eerie inconsistency,” observes Max, “that keeps all of us, to one degree or another, living our lives on the edge of our chairs.”
“Yet, it was in this inconsistency that God had his finest hour. Never did the obscene come so close to the holy as it did on Calvary. Never did the good in the world so intertwine with the bad as it did on the cross” Continue reading
“You’re judging,” is a charge that has been hurled at me through the years. Then it is followed up with “And the Bible says it’s wrong to judge!”
Though not said in those words, this sentiment has been expressed to me in comments on this blog when I condemn an immoral lifestyle.
Is this charge valid? Am I guilt of judging? Well, I guess it’s time to confess. Continue reading
Max Lucado calls it “the most famous trial in history.”
And the Judge? A man unqualified for the job. His position was the result of the right connections. And a fortuitous marriage to Claudia Proclua, whose father was Tiberius, the Roman Emperor.
So in A.D. 26 Pontus Pilate was appointed governor of Judea. He was responsible for maintaining law and order in the raucous land filled with Jews that hated Rome. He handed out justice. And collected taxes.
Historians describe him as tactless. Stubborn. Cruel. Censorious. Demanding. Self-justifying. Tyrannical. And disrespectful of religion. Pilate was everything that Jesus wasn’t. Continue reading
In his book “A Gentle Thunder” Max Lucado tells the story of Karen Hill who is an Administrate Assistant in Austin, Texas. Karen underwent surgery in a local hospital and when she awoke in the recovery room, she could hear the moaning of a fellow patient. She could hear a sympathetic nurse trying to comfort him.
“Settle down, Tom,” she said.” But still he moaned. “It’s all right, Tom. Just go with the pain.”
The man was quiet for a few moments, but began groaning again. “It’s okay, Tom. You’ll be fine.” Finally the patient spoke. Continue reading
To the casual observer there was nothing unusual about these six hours.
To the casual observer this Friday was a normal Friday. Six hours of routine. Six hours of the expected.
Six hours. One Friday. Continue reading