A photographer, who is a Christian, reached out for help. “I have several gay friends, and they keep telling me, ‘When I get engaged/married, I’m definitely having you shoot the photos.’ While I’m honored by their compliments and love them dearly, I’m conflicted about whether or not I can, as a Christian, participate in their weddings as the photographer.” When her friends ask her to shoot their wedding, what should she do?


What did it mean for Jesus to eat with sinners?
A Christian college student at a state university wants to join a fraternity, but they have a reputation as a party house. He thinks he can be a witness for Christ in the house, but there is a lot of drinking and drug-use that goes on there. When they ask him to join the house, what should he do?

These are complicated questions that require serious reflection. One of the most common responses I’ve seen to these types of questions goes like this: “Jesus ate with sinners, so you should [shoot the wedding/join the frat/go to the party].” But is it really as simple as that? What, after all, did it mean for Jesus to eat with sinners? And why was it such a big deal?

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Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

A refrain spoken over the dead. A reminder for the living. We are but dust, and to dust we shall return.

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. We close our eyes and abandon ourselves to God. These are the symbols of our humility, the reminder that our time here is short, and that we are not in control.

Ash and dust bring us into confrontation with our own mortality, our own sinfulness, and the fleeting nature of our lives here on earth. Ashes and dust are a reminder that our hope and faith must be in God alone, and not in what we can accomplish in our short time.

What, then, are we to do in the face of such confrontation with our own mortality? We must repent. In dust and ashes.

The ancients placed this symbol of death, these ashes, upon their heads as a sign of their repentance. Like worship, it was an external action that reflected an internal reality. Finally seeing the folly of their old ways, they repented in dust and ashes, hoping that the god to whom they prayed was a forgiving god. A gracious deity. A merciful Lord.

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As my friend Rachel said on Facebook this morning, Lent is the time when everyone is going to get back on the #yearofno bandwagon. (If you aren’t familiar with the #yearofno, you can find all the relevant posts here.) Whether or not any of that actually happens I don’t know, but Lent is an excellent opportunity to revisit your entitlements and indulgences, and your plan to learn to say “No” to them.

Many of us are giving things up for Lent, saying “No” to idle pleasures and innocent addictions so that we can draw nearer to God in this season. The intention of this is good, but as many others have been writing recently, we need to go deeper.

Lent is a season of repentance, and a season of repentance requires repentance before self-denial can mean anything. We cannot simply subtract an idol from our lives without first confessing, “I am an idol worshipper.” When we try self-denial without repentance, the idol simply goes off into arid places until it finds seven other idols more powerful than itself, and then brings them all back to fill your heart again, leaving you worse off than before. You cannot simply ignore an idol out of existence. You must destroy it with repentance.

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When it comes to sexual activity, what is moral and what is immoral? Where do we draw the boundaries? (We all draw the boundaries somewhere.) And, just as importantly, how do we decide? What are the principles that inform our sexual ethic?

The Cultural Sexual Ethic


While it would be nearly impossible to get everyone to agree on something, I think it’s realistic to speak generally about the sexual ethic of our non-religious culture. As I see it, there are four principles that inform the Cultural Sexual Ethic: Autonomy, Consent, Pleasure, and Justice. I’ll try to describe each of these briefly.

Autonomy is the belief that I have the right to make decisions for myself. My body belongs to me, and nobody can tell me what to do with it. I am, so to speak, my own master, free to do as I see fit.

Consent, when it comes to sexual activity, is the primary (only?) limiter of my autonomy. When others are involved in the sexual act, they must be willing participants. Sexual coercion is immoral because it violates the other’s autonomy. But as long as all parties are willing, anything goes. 


The four principles that guide the Cultural Sexual Ethic are Autonomy, Consent, Pleasure, and Justice.

Pleasure, or enjoyment, is basic to the sex act because that is the primary intended result. All parties are seeking to derive some kind of pleasure from the activity, whether physical, emotional, or both. Sexual preference and taste are important factors in achieving a pleasurable experience.

Justice, in this case, is the pursuit of fairness in sexual activity, particularly for those whose preferences or tastes have been shamed or criminalized in the wider culture.

If I could articulate the Cultural Sexual Ethic, I would say it like this: All humans are in charge of their own bodies and therefore have the legal right to pursue sexual pleasure by whatever means they desire, without shame or discrimination, insofar as all partners are willing participants. I’ve tried to state this as clearly and fairly as I can. My hope is that those who generally take this stance would agree, at least in part, with my statement.

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Our four-year-old son Zekey has a fatal neurological disorder called Batten Disease, which has stolen all of his motor skills, including his ability to speak. There is no cure for Batten, so we don’t know how much longer we have with him. Because he can’t talk to us, there is so much that we miss out on. One of the hardest, for me, is that I don’t get to experience his imagination, especially as it comes out through his dreams. What his mind does while he sleeps is a distant mystery to me.

This post is my imaginative attempt to enter into Zekey’s dreams. He is the one telling the dream. He is the I in the story.


I was lying in my bed when I heard Cyrus lugging up a big box from the basement. He was grunting and groaning as he lifted it, step by step, up the stairs. I couldn’t see him around the wall, but I could tell by the noise that he was bringing his box of Legos up the stairs.

The door squeaked open and his head popped around the corner. “Hi Zekey,” said Cyrus. He was really excited. He pushed his heavy box across the carpet right up to my bed. I smiled wide. I was so happy that my big brother was going to play with me!

“Do you want to play with Legos?” Cyrus asked. Playing with Legos with Cyrus sounded like so much fun! I laughed long and loud.

Cyrus grabbed a handful of Legos and climbed into my bed. “What do you think we should make? I think we should make a tower all the way to the roof!” Wow! A tower to the roof. This would be so great!

Cyrus got busy stacking the Legos all around me. He even let me hold some. I tried to help but my hands were too shaky. That made me very sad. I wanted to play!

My big brother saw that I was upset and that my hands were shaking too hard to help. He grabbed my hands, smiled, and said, “It’s okay, buddy. I can build it for both of us.”

The walls were getting really tall. They were almost to the ceiling! Cyrus started building ledges for me to lay on so that I could be close to him while he built. We finally made it all the way up to the ceiling, but I was confused. How were we supposed to make it onto the roof? I looked back down at my bed, and it seemed really far away. I was scared. Cyrus could tell.

“You don’t have to be scared, Zekey. I’ll hold you.” Then Cyrus put one arm around me and started to build a door on the ceiling. When he was finished he opened it up and pulled me out onto the roof. There was a great big Lego chair waiting for us out there!

“I built this while you were sleeping last night,” said Cyrus. “I wanted it to be a surprise.” It was.

It had taken Cyrus all day to build the Lego tower to the roof, and now the sun was starting to go down behind the trees. The wind was warm on our faces. We sat up there for a long time, watching the sun set. Then he gave me a big hug and whispered in my ear, “You’re my brother.”

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