Most of the men I know think about sex way more than their wives, and they think about sex selfishly. Sex is about their desires, their timing, their interests, their pleasures. The desires, pressures, interests, and pleasures of their wives are far removed.
We gain contentment when we choose to fight the lowly things of this world that enrapture and attempt to master us. We fight because we know there is no lasting joy or fulfillment to be found outside of God (Ps 16:2). Through this fight we get to experience the blessings that God gives us in this world without being owned by them, and look forward to the treasures he promises us in eternity (Ps 16:11; Heb 10:34).
My friend who sat before me boasting about her accomplishments was forfeiting her own Christian reality. It made me sad because she wasn’t living in the freedom that comes with being a part of the body of Christ, and because I can so easily find myself in her shoes.
Sex is often the first thing put on the back burner in the busyness of life. By the time we are ready for bed, we are too tired to think about sex, much less have it. Add kids to that scenario and the situation gets even more dire. Mothers have held their little ones, been tugged at, and grabbed all day long and now we just want to be left alone and go to sleep. We don’t feel animosity towards our husbands; we are just exhausted and tapped out.
Age reversal, dying gray hair, buying anti-aging products, and getting plastic surgery are not sins in and of themselves, but they do point to a universal human condition: a longing for life and a fear of death.
As the discussion on branding and platforming has unfolded, how can we help one another to heed the ton-load of wisdom in these short articles? If Christian writers shouldn’t be seeking to build up self, then what should they be doing? We ought to be exalting Jesus and building up others (Phil 2:3), but how can we tell if our writing is doing that?
. . . I had to learn something in the midst of feeling controlled by my hormones: I cannot allow my body, my emotions and my hormones to control me. I needed to be controlled only by the love of Christ, even in the depths of menopause. And God says I can be (2 Cor 5:14, 2 Tim 1:7).
Certain that true community and growth were only possible through unflinching vulnerability, I committed to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I shared all the gory details of my past and present struggles, heaping burdens upon willing listeners while remaining a safe distance from their attempts to speak truth into my life.
I realized something was really wrong in my heart when I continued to obsess over my wedding after it had taken place. Had everything been as I wanted it to be? Maybe if I had just changed a few things here, a few things there, then it would really have been ideal.
Is it true? Can I expect God to heal me? Should we expect him to solve our dilemmas? To fix broken circumstances? To mend fractured relationships? And what does it mean for us when our hurts persist?
Dying to self is painful, but dying in miserable sin is way worse.
Why do we sometimes build expectations that the self-sacrificial mysteries of marriage must make us unhappy to make us more like Jesus? And where does that leave those to whom God has given happiness and ease in marriage—or in life for that matter? Are the happy and less afflicted believers less holy than those who suffer?
As children of God, we hurt each other constantly, thinking the pain and retribution we inflict on one another has nothing to do with him. But we are wrong, it’s never just between us.
Singleness is often written with a slant that assumes a single person’s life must be hard, but the Bible teaches that singleness can actually be a good thing.
How many children in middle school and high school do you know that can speak confidently to adults while looking them in the eye? How many children do you know who are assertive and initiate contact with others, seeking others out in meaningful conversations? If you live in the same world that I do, the answer is probably not many. That is because conversation is a learned skill.
Children are a gift from God precisely because they are a heritage. Parenting is valuable because as one participates in the activity of it, it produces something of worth. Something that brings significance for both the parent and the child.
Girls can be placed in an awkward position when they are asked out. How should a girl turn down a guy? Can a woman serve her brother in Christ who goes out on a limb to ask her out on a date? The apostle Paul tells us that whether we eat or drink, we should do everything to the glory of God. This does not exclude the moment when a girl is faced with the decision to say no to a pursuer
We are talkers. Our talking isn’t just a way we pass the time. There is much more going on with our desire to speak. Part of the reason we speak compulsively is an attempt to rule and subdue the earth, because we image a God of spoken power.
When we, as kids, would complain to my dad about how mom wasn’t letting us have the sleepover we asked for, or when I entered that phase of life in college in which I felt I knew everything and she knew little, he would slowly say, “That’s my bride you’re talking about.”
A very common piece of advice, or warning, I have received is that my closest friends should not be in our church. I have been told it’s impossible to have close friendships with church members, warned I will get burned, and told to find another outlet for community in order to protect myself and my family from negative experiences.