My father never called himself a Calvinist, and neither did my mother, which is not to say that they weren’t.  If you would have asked

  Almost forty years ago, we went to the very same church, the very same building, that is, except it was, back then, a different

Way back when, I remember Richard Mouw once saying that the whole Christian world would be better off if we’d take seriously ye olde Sunday

Rained here Saturday night. My father-in-law’s little gauge–the old farmer in him couldn’t really live without one–registered three-quarters of an inch, a healthy rain. In

Just a week or so ago, Frederick Manfred would have celebrated his 100th birthday, had he lived. He didn’t.  He died in 1994, from the complications

Of its origins, I’m not quite sure–some freak shop in Old Town, Chicago, circa 1968.  I remember being with my then-girlfriend on what was some

I was born in 1948, but it took me a while to understand the world into which I was, that year, so healthily delivered, or

I envy monastics–sometimes. I envy their intent to zero in on the Christian faith, to delete every iota of worldly pain and pleasure from hearts