The Church at the End of the World
On living as saints in the face of the apocalypse.
(Note: This essay functions as Part 2 to a previous essay titled “The AI Revolution Will Not Be Televised.” It can be read independently of its predecessor, but the added context will no doubt help.)
Introduction
Ever since I was a teenager, I’ve had this experience where I dislike good music the first time I hear it. I’ve no idea why this happens to me. The best I can manage is my brain is forced to unexpectedly recalibrate in response to hearing something so alien to my experience, producing a kind of mental distortion during that initial hearing. I find this particularly fascinating because eventually, that same music may (and often does) go on to become very near and dear to me. Apparently, there’s an adjustment period for my internal settings to adapt to this strange, new thing I’ve discovered.
I couldn’t help but think of my personal phenomenon as I watched
deliver the Erasmus Lecture for First Things in New York City last October. I had read Paul’s work previously in publications like First Things and on his Substack , but this was the first time I’d had the chance to hear him lecture. Intrepidly titled “Against Christian Civilization,” Kingsnorth delivered a uniquely provocative address that has since sparked considerable dialogue within Christendom. I’ll link the video below if you’re interested in hearing it for yourself.Before I go much further, I should clarify that this is not intended to be a full-on review of the lecture. Other voices from the Christian community have since weighed in extensively here, including
, , , , , , and .1 I encourage you to check out their work (which I’ve linked in the footnotes) if you’re interested in a more straightforward review of the talk. What I’m after here, while related to and informed by the lecture, is something else.For all the engagement Kingsnorth’s words have generated, far less attention has been shown to a question posed during the Q&A time following the lecture. Around the 61-minute mark, you can hear Ryan Anderson of the Ethics and Public Policy Center pushing Paul to develop his position even further. Anderson asks: if we are in fact living through the end of one age and the beginning of another, as Kingsnorth claims, and if “Christian civilization” for its own sake is not the answer we seek, and given most Christians maintain some kind of secular discipline that would necessarily tether them to “civilizational living”…how then are we to understand our ongoing role as saints living in the city at the end of an age? Put another way: what does it mean to be the church at the end of the world?
It’s an excellent question. Readers may recall this same question concluded my last essay on the AI revolution and the future of the church, so it seemed like quite a good place to pick up the thread.
The Escape Hatch
When discussing the often-bleak reality of life in the Machine2, Kingsnorth doesn’t much care for the question “What should we do?” This is most simply explained by the reality that, properly speaking, we can’t exactly do anything about it. The Machine is not the Galactic Empire so much as it is the modern precondition that makes empire possible; if you killed the Machine today, people would starve, the planet would die, and all hell would undoubtedly break loose. This is the world we live in now; the toothpaste, whatever you think of it, cannot go back in the tube.
Instead, Kingsnorth offers an alternative question: “Where is the escape hatch?” Meaning: if the world around us is slowly decaying into something antihuman and apocalyptic with no discernible off-switch, perhaps the way forward lies in a willful disengagement from technocratic bliss, a refutation of the ideals that make up our modern palate. This presents us with still more questions: is such resistance even possible? Assuming you could resist: would you really want to? What would true resistance look like when everyone around you has already abandoned hope and resigned themselves to the inevitability of a cyborg future?
In my previous article, I described the kind of future the church should expect to inherit, by way of the unremitting march of progressive ideology and the utopian affinities of technological advancement. I suggested the church take these concerns far more seriously, or risk being consumed by Machine thinking that would ultimately shape us into something indistinguishable from the rest of the world. In a way, I think Kingsnorth is making a similar claim in his lecture. He says as much in another Q&A answer, summarizing his main point thusly:
“If we use this faith as a weapon in a culture war to build or defend a civilization, to fight our wars because we find it socially useful, then it leads to catastrophe. If we try to live as Christians, then the way that we act in the world that's informed by that will be radically different to the way that we've acted so far.”3
This leads us to the million dollar question: What then does it mean to “live as Christians,” now, in this Machine world? Exactly how are we to act in the world that would qualify as so “radically different” than what has come before?
For all the ink spilled in response to this lecture, not enough has been spent in consideration of this question. So let’s talk about the escape hatch.
As I see it, if the church is to survive the coming apocalypse, there are at least four principles that must be collectively, resolutely maintained by the body of Christ. What follows are not especially original precepts; as ever, there is nothing new under the sun. But in every age, there have always been acute strategies the church has deployed to push back against the spirit of that generation, and the same is true for us today. It is in this same spirit, on the eve of a new era of history, that I submit these convictions for the church to consider.
Charles Spurgeon once said “If it be true, then it be urgent.” I agree in earnest.
1. The church must be embodied in the natural world.
In centuries prior, that the church should be embodied was not elective; there was no other way to exist. Today, however, we are increasingly drifting toward a predominantly disembodied societal reality. We see this primarily in the digital revolution and the advent of artificial intelligence designed to augment (rather than merely supplement) our daily living. But even the church is not immune to this drift; it can be observed in everything from the normalization of online church attendance since the pandemic, to the rise of app-based, personalized Bible study plans designed for individual consumption rather than communal gatherings. Slowly but surely, what we mean by “community” is being reworked and reshaped by the presuppositions of our digital age.
As I have stated: in a future where chatbot girlfriends and robot companions are not nearly as far off as we might think, the church desperately needs an apologetic that produces what
has called a robust anthropology of embodiment. Given the modern reimagining of how we experience life together, how are we to make sense of a rapidly changing world that finds us simultaneously more connected and more isolated from one another than ever?This, then, becomes the tether for us: our bodies matter. Being together matters. How we live together matters.
The Christian life is inextricably incarnational. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). He didn’t move toward us in the name of ease or convenience; instead, he “emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men” (Philippians 2:7). Given the option to send a text, the Son of God packed his bags and moved into the neighborhood. In every way imaginable, he showed us what it truly means to be human. Half-naked as he washed his disciples’ feet, he set the terms for what the Christian life should look like: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:34-35). Interestingly, the emphasis here is on communal living within the fellowship of believers. It seems there’s something about the way we live with one another that Christ says will be counted as a defining feature of our witness to an unbelieving world.
As noted previously, this is not really a new idea. We see it most immediately demonstrated in the first-century church, who Luke identifies as having “devoted themselves to fellowship” with one another as part of the essential practices that constitute a Christian life (Acts 2:42). Kingsnorth himself builds on this in his lecture:
“Why did Christianity spread at all? What a question. Why did this faith ever grow? It’s because the Christians were the ones who stayed in the plague ridden cities to tend to the dying when everybody else left. Because the Christians stayed after the earthquakes. Because the Christians shared everything. Because they showed what God's love actually looked like, and that was attractive.”4
Thus we can see that historically, Christians have considered their dynamic presence in the natural world to be a primary feature of their faith, and that radical embodiment would become a catalyst for the Gospel to be preached. In contrast, the Machine culture of today tells us physical presence is increasingly irrelevant, that a text is more than good enough, that Teams meetings will suffice, that likes and impressions are an ample substitute for what once counted for authentic human connection. And while some have been sounding the digital alarm for some time now5, the vast majority of Christians I encounter seem almost oblivious to the societal rip current pulling them away from an embodied shore.
In light of this, the church possesses an incredible opportunity to demonstrate the transformative power of the Gospel in the way we think about our physical presence. Living as an embodied people in a disembodied world will naturally produce what Noble has dubbed a “disruptive witness;” the world will see it in the way we date, the way we take our health seriously, the way we prioritize standing next to one another for worship on Sundays, the way we make meals to give to our neighbors, the way we care for God’s creation. For some, this might require changing their relationship with the easy comforts of indulgent technology, should it preclude them from living as Christ intended. For others, it could mean saying no to a child’s Sunday sports game so the whole family can be present for worship together. Being embodied means surveying the loneliness epidemic threatening our young people and buying them a smoothie at a run-down local Burger King. That’s what happened for me, and I’ll probably never forget it.
In the end, there is no one-size answer to what this will look like. That said, the shape of the solution is always the same: we must be present, here, in the flesh, like our Savior before us. There is no adequate substitute.
Like the rich young ruler, we fear we have much to lose if we heed the words of Christ, and I’m fully aware polemics like this tend to go over like a lead balloon. Still, the call to prioritize physical community remains. How we choose to respond will play no small part in the future of the church, however it shakes out.
2. The church must teach and confess the whole counsel of God.
It goes without saying (or ought to, anyway) that the church operates with the Word of God as her ultimate authority. The Machine, however, has no such authority, no regulating principle, other than the insatiable urge to integrate everything into a homogenous, incoherent One. It is, above all, hungry, and is therefore all too happy to offer little gifts to any who will feed its need; from the rush of one more dopamine hit to the lifeless bliss of ignorance via an endless stream of distraction, it neither discriminates nor judges those who elect to play its game.
For the church, this temptation is nowhere more evidenced than the allure to capitulate on foundational doctrines in the face of cultural coercion, opting for the sanctuary of therapeutic/ideological conceits for reasons too numerous to include here.6 Sadly, we can see this happening on both sides of the proverbial aisle today; from Richard B. Hays and “the widening of God’s mercy” to Joel Webbon calling for immigrants to be shot for trying to enter the US in the name of “biblical justice,” it’s clear neither side is immune to the civilizational predilections Kingsnorth is so concerned about. In this case, both men see themselves as contributing to a vision of Christian engagement in the world, yet both make the same mistake in pitting the word of God against itself. In so doing, both create extra-biblical definitions of how “mercy” is to be understood; Hays’s interpretation is noticeably undercooked, while Webbon’s is just as obviously overcooked.
This second point could be expressed this way: Doctrine matters. This faith is not ours to mold and tailor against our personal scruples; it is endowed by almighty God to those who wish to receive it. We are called to steward that which has been entrusted to us, and like the apostle Paul in Acts 20, we must not hesitate to declare the whole counsel of God as the rock on which we stand, not only the parts we like.
In one of the more sobering moments of his talk, Kingsnorth considers the arduous reality of really walking in a manner worthy of our calling:
“We have our orders. And how we hate them. How I hate them. Sometimes I can’t look at them, or at myself in their shadow. And so we twist them. We—all of us—use them to justify war and resistance and politics and wealth and power and all the human things that these orders instruct us to walk away from. Oh, yes, I know he said that, we tell ourselves, but he really meant this. But what if he meant what he said, and we don’t like it?”7
Like the previous point, the temptation to twist the word of God into something more palatable is not a new concept, nor is it going away anytime soon. We can try to explain away inconvenient passages as little more than a matter of interpretation, but these evasions offer little short-term reprieve, with potentially devastating long-term consequences.8 In truth, the church will not be able to avoid future doctrinal disputes any more than prior generations could manage.
What then is left to be done? How are we to remain steadfast in keeping “the faith once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 3)?
I believe one answer here lies in the past, in the form of the historic, confessional tenets of the faith. The Christian tradition is as deep as it is wide; many have come before us, and many more will come after if the Lord tarries. Almost every issue we face today has already befallen the saints of history, and for every conflict and dispute that arose, a sufficient answer would eventually prevail. In each instance, those Christians saw the hardships future generations would face, absent further illumination and clarification. So they did the work of crafting statements and establishing documents that delineated the biblical position in plain terms, so Christians they would likely never meet could navigate the struggles of their time with the confidence that they stood in solidarity with those who had come before.
Indeed, professor
points out this is one of the primary functions of confessional faith:“Time is a great solvent of irrelevance. If a creed or confession or catechism has been in existence and proved useful for centuries, then one can be reasonably confident that it does not contain a lot of irrelevant or peripheral fluff but rather things that are of perennial importance to Christians…These provide solid, general conceptual foundations by which the church can approach contemporary challenges, and they do so in a way that sets the immediate problems of our day in the context of the broader framework of perennial Christian truth. In short, such confessions help us not only see that certain things are wrong, but to see why they are so in terms of God’s truth as a whole.”9
What could this look like practically? I think it starts in our homes. Since catechisms exist to clearly state the central tenets of the faith, we ought to consider catechizing our children every chance we get.10 We can prioritize studying Scripture in the fellowship and company of other believers, allowing the Spirit to be at work among us. We can recite creeds and confessions with family at the dinner table, taking time to understand why they were written. We can commit them to memory, to internalize them so they become a part of our regular rhythms of worship, not just when we need to troubleshoot a problem.
We modern Christians are prone to chronological snobbery, to believe what the world needs is “church done differently” so it can resonate with a contemporary audience.
’ villainous Screwtape calls this “[humanity’s] horror of the Same Old Thing,” as if Christianity required an additional, more exciting collaborator in order to be successful.11 I am suggesting the exact opposite is what’s needed: a return to a faith that is “merely Christian” in every respect, with eyes fixed on the glory of our God, dutifully in step with the decrees of Scripture, same as it ever was.Undoubtedly, there are storms brewing on the horizon. In the coming days, adherence to a faith rooted in history will act as a ballast in our boat to help us traverse these new challenges…even if they’re not all that new after all.
3. The church must present a compelling moral vision of the Christian life.
One point Kingsnorth makes repeatedly in his essays is the “culture wars” rage because we no longer have a culture. The West, fragmenting for some time now, endures today in the form of disparate “worlds,” silos standing side-by-side with one another in a more tribal version of what historian Benedict Anderson has termed “imagined communities.” We could say that Machine culture sees the universe as wholly indifferent to us, leaving us to create our own subjective realities within it. This produces a world inconsistent with itself; absent the ability to harmonize around a collective vision, the shared frequency becomes individuality en masse. But since communities operating on contradictory principles can’t all be correct, this sets us up for inevitable conflict.
The church is an idea, just like any other community. But our postmodern age, what makes our idea any different in the world’s eyes from every other imagined community out there? As the French philosopher Jacques Ellul put it: “How can we be the question that God puts to the world?”
At the conclusion of his book Strange New World, Trueman makes a fascinating observation regarding how differently the early Greek Apologists (Justin Martyr, etc.) argued their case for Christianity, compared to the Western apologists of today:
“[They] did not spend their time denouncing the evils of the emperor and his court. Rather, they argued positively that Christians made the best citizens, the best parents, the best servants, the best neighbors, the best employees.”12
At a time when Christianity evoked fear and distrust throughout the Roman empire, Martyr not only argued that Christians were good people committed to upholding the rule of law, but suggested (incredibly) that Christians made better citizens of Rome than non-Christians. Read that sentence again, and just imagine trying to make such an argument today. The reason this argument seems impossible for us is because the church has failed to offer up a compelling moral vision of the Christian life.
If, as I have suggested, the church is to be embodied in the world, she must also offer the world a provocative counternarrative to Machine culture. In a time of fragmentation and disillusionment, the church can present a moral vision of life that demonstrates how Christianity is not only true, but how Christianity, when lived out, also provides the framework for the most genuinely good and aesthetically beautiful vision of life.
Writing in support of what he once called “A Christian High Theory,” the late Tim Keller illustrates how the Bible helps us to thoughtfully critique the culture around us, while also demonstrating a unique consistency with “our most profound intuitions about life”:
“Every culture deploys multiple patterns—narratives, pictures and images, vocabulary—to create a ‘world’ (or ‘worldview’ or ‘social imaginary’). But the Bible has its own narratives, images, and patterns that enable us to analyze any culture at the deepest level and to both critique and appreciate it, while at the same time preventing us from being captured and co-opted by it.
“A biblical critical theory, therefore…must first expose the main flaws in the dominant culture's narratives, showing how they fit neither human nature nor our most profound intuitions about life—let alone the culture's moral ideals and aspirations…Then Christian theory must point to the beauty and truth of the gospel as the source of numerous fulfilling counternarratives.”13
In other words, the church’s response to future generations who ask “What’s wrong with dating an AI chatbot?” or “Why shouldn’t we use artificial wombs to have babies?” with a straight face will hinge on whether or not she has embraced a truly biblical anthropology. Why is voluntary euthanasia, which today accounts for 1 in 20 deaths in Canada, something to be flatly rejected? If children can be born via an artificial womb, what makes having two dads any different than having a mother and a father? The answer to both questions, in addition to the many ethical dilemmas sure to present themselves in the years to come, can be traced back to a biblical understanding of what it means to be human. Our task of being “salt and light,” then, requires more than simply believing it to be true: our lives are to reflect the inherent goodness and beauty of living the Christian way.
This, of course, is all much easier said than done. In practice, this strategy begins to take cues from the Savage Lands of Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, a place devoid of the digital blessings of the World State but replete everywhere with analog beauty.14 It is the Tao of
in The Abolition of Man as we live in accordance with the objective moral order of the universe. It is a community readily identifiable by their commitment to the Christian life, both in word and in deed, in spirit and in truth. It is, to paraphrase , a form of “cultural insurgency,” the body of Christ refusing to cede the moral high ground by pursuing excellence in every area of life and holding ourselves to a higher standard. This is what it looks like to win at the moral level in a manner that compels others to ask about the hope within us (1 Peter 3:15).’s Benedict Option was always more about building dynamic Christian communities than the pious escapism some made it out to be. Like Dreher, I think this is how the church endures: not by winning the culture war, but by building a better, truer, more compelling culture.
4. The church must recover her identity as a people of prayer.
At root, the Machine is a hurricane of abject nihilism; since life supposedly has no real meaning, no priority should supersede the urge to get everything you can as fast as you can, however you wish to do so. As we’ve seen already, the doctrine of consumption drives every aspect of Machine culture. Yet the God of the Bible invites us to continually give things away: our money, our time, our possessions, our comforts. Obviously, these two are inimical, as Kingsnorth rightly points out. We cannot serve both God and mammon. But how can we resist when our flesh is so weak, so complacent, so prone to thinking only of ourselves?
I thought about this for a long time. I can think of no better way to cultivate such resistance than prayer.
Recently,
brilliantly noted that “The goal of prayer, for me, is not to make me a more religious person. It’s to make me more a person.” This is perfectly said. For many, Christian prayer is more or less interchangeable with contemporary practices like focused attention, manifesting, box breathing, or mindfulness meditations. This is a category error, because Christian prayer is not a coping skill for behavior modification. Prayer is about the God who made us to be dependent on him, the God who needs nothing while offering everything. As Peco notes:Our machines have anti-viruses, but a life of unceasing prayer is an anti-virus against machine culture. How does prayer do this? Not primarily by making us think of ways to reduce our tech use. Not primarily by strengthening our concentration or some aspect of personality. It does it, mostly, by keeping our telescope aimed at the heavens, and always asking, Who is worthy to enter my heart?15
Prayer is not an expedient practice. It is not something you do as the religious corollary to popping a Xanax, nor is it an attempt to balance the cosmic scales so the universe will rule in your favor. It is deference to the creator of the universe, which simultaneously acts as a kind of Machine counter-programming, weapons-grade anti-virus for the soul. Prayer is not about you or me; yet in God’s infinite mercy, in prayer we receive back more than we could ever imagine. This is because prayer puts us in right relationship with the God who made us for Himself, who makes our hearts restless until we rest in Him.
Ultimately, prayer is what raging against the Machine truly looks like. It is how we refuse to be shaped by the world. It is how we are transformed by the renewing of our mind, how we are fashioned in to the image of the Son. It is less of me and more of Him, constantly, day in and day out. Because He’s worthy of it all.
My suggestion here is to recover the discipline of praying prayers, rather than leaning on the kind of extemporaneous prayer that has become synonymous with the evangelical church.16 Praying specific prayers, while doubling as another way to root ourselves in the historic tradition of faith, also provides the added benefit of acting as a polestar for our attention in a world of digital distractions. Additionally, prayer affords us still another opportunity to be embodied, to lay hands on someone in need and bear one another’s burdens in the Spirit. We simply cannot overstate the role of prayer in stemming the tide of Machine consumption that threatens to unmake us.
If the Machine the indulgent, devouring mother, consuming anything and everything in its path, then prayer is the exultation of the everlasting Father, in whom we live and move and have our being. The church must recover her identity as a people who know what it means to pray without ceasing, a people who believe prayer really can change things.
For the Christian, prayer is not a waste of time. Prayer is how we become human again.
Conclusion
At the beginning of this article, I wrote “If the church is to survive the coming apocalypse,” though I meant this more rhetorically than anything. We know the biblical church will endure because Christ tells us she will endure, and no matter what challenges or conflicts should come to bear, even the gates of hell will not overcome her. While this promise is certainly a great comfort, a long road still remains before us. We are all on our way to the Celestial City, the true civilization built by God for us to dwell with Him forever. But we are also dual citizens, always with one foot in the city of man, the other in the city of God. This tension is unlikely to be resolved anytime soon.
The church exists to be the light in a world increasingly consumed by darkness. We are the ekklēsia, the “called-out ones.” Standing apart from the world’s ways has always been a feature of Christianity, not a bug. It’s part of the paradoxical beauty of our temporal reality: remaining in the world without becoming like it, embracing a kingdom that is both “already” and “not yet,” losing our lives that we might find them again. That part, I think, is clear enough. It’s always the follow-through where we get tripped up.
There’s a saying in marketing that warns “if you confuse, you’ll lose.” Sometimes I think the opposite is true of Christianity: if we don’t confuse people, we’ll lose people. The kingdom of God is an upside-down kingdom, one that runs on what seem to be counter-intuitive notions, due primarily to our aforementioned status as dual citizens. But that’s also precisely what makes us so compelling to a watching world. While they can’t make heads or tails of us, we know the hope to which we have been called. A true Christian culture will welcome such confusion as an invitation to offer the true and living Word himself: the man Christ Jesus, broken and bruised, that He might bring us to God.
Our calling in this Machine age, as Kingsnorth articulated, is to reject Machine-flavored versions of civilization, to hold fast to the word of God as the bulwark to weather the tyranny of our moment. But it also requires that we embrace the inherent beauty of God’s design, to remember we were created as embodied souls, made in God’s image to care for the world he made with justice. To do this, we will have to recalibrate our lives, just as I had to recalibrate my brain to make room for new and amazing music, to the frequency of the Christian way. It will not be easy. Nor should we expect it to be profitable or advantageous, for Christ made no such promises to us; in fact, he called us to deny ourselves and pick up our cross. But we can take heart today that He goes before us (Deuteronomy 31:8), sustains us (Isaiah 41:10), and promises to remain with us, “even unto the end of the world” (Matthew 28.20).
The world is watching, friends.
Below are links to the various engagements with “Against Christian Civilization” I’ve come across. I’m including so many here because they cover a wide range of responses (positive, negative, a bit of both) so people can make up their own minds about what they see Paul doing here. If I missed any that were especially interesting, please drop a link in the comments section.
McGrew: Strangers and Sojourners (from )
Wiley: Against Christian Civilization? (from the Theology Pugcast)
Leithart: For Christian Civilization (from First Things)
Noble: Christianity Within Civilization (from )
Meador: Against Syncretism, For Christians Building Like Christians (from Mere Orthodoxy)
Wax: One Cheer for Christian Civilization? A Response to Paul Kingsnorth (from Kingdom People/TGC)
Carini: For Christian Civilization - and Civilized Christianity (from )
VanderKlay: Paul Kingsnorth Destroys Christian Civilization with Words and Jesus (from Paul VanderKlay’s Podcast)
For those unfamiliar with Kingsnorth’s concept of the Machine, I briefly covered this in my previous article. If you’d prefer to hear it from Kingsnorth himself, you can read his synopsis here, beginning under the heading “The Story.”
Thinking specifically here of
, , and , though I’m sure there’s more I’m unfamiliar with.Minute-mark 38:59 of Paul’s lecture.
Also, for what it’s worth…I don’t think this means you can’t be a Christian and heave wealth, or be a Christian and a soldier, or that “let the dead bury the dead” means you can’t attend your father’s funeral. I think these words are meant to have the same effect on us that Christ meant the parable of the Good Samaritan to have on the lawyer seeking to justify himself in Luke 10: they compel us to consider our own deceitful hearts in light of the incredible mercy we have received in Christ.
See Kevin DeYoung’s excellent article “That’s Just Your Interpretation” for more on this.
Trueman, Strange New World, p. 179-80.
Our family uses the Kids’ Catechism, based on the Westminster Shorter Catechism. Our kids (currently 8 and 5) love it and will periodically ask me to quiz them on catechism questions. Highly recommended.
C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters, p. 135.
Trueman, Strange New World, p. 176-77.
Forward to Christopher Watkin’s Biblical Critical Theory, pp. xv-xvi.
Kingsnorth also invokes Huxley’s Savage Lands in his excellent lecture “Huxley and the Machine” for those interested in a deeper dive.
I found this post by
to be really helpful on this point. He discusses this under the heading “#2: Morning Office.”
Wow Dominick, this was superb! A most incisive examination of what living in a Machine age means for Christians, but most importantly, a hopeful directive. Truly my favorite piece that I have read in months. Will be sure to share it with my readers and hope that it spreads far and wide.
That is a message you need to write again and again and then preach it and write it again and preach it again. The anchor of ancient, Biblical, time tested orthopraxy securing our souls during unimaginable, rapid theological and cultural shifts in the church and western culture. Great work