…the linguistic problem hammers the last nail in the coffin of the traditional setting of “the inn” being some sort of hotel. In Greek, katáluma is translated “lodging place,” “upper room,” or “guest room.”[6] Only a few translations call it something other than “the inn,” which lends itself to misinterpretation by Westerns who think of “the inn” as a kind of hostel or motel.[7] But Matthew’s gospel makes it clear that the Maji entered a “house”: “And going into the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.”[8] So, the traditional telling of “no room for them in the inn” should be translated “no room for them in the guest room upstairs.”  

one should read the BIBLE as a mystery novel: a story of prideful irony (sin) and ironic pride (salvation) one should peruse its pages for the character development of villain and hero one should be prepared to personally invest into the proverbial love story that takes place between author and reader

A young man about twenty-five years old paddles out to his local surf break in San Clemente, California. The silhouette of something substantial yet sprightly in the murky water startles the surfer with no name. The still sea around him becomes agitated. Moments later, a creature scuffs his leg. He recoils his limbs and lies…

Christ is the ideal soldier: he never leaves a man behind. Even under enemy fire he risks his own life to save the men and women under his authority. He puts the needs of his platoon before his own: they eat and then he eats; they sleep and then he sleeps; they shower and then…

As some of you know, I am writing my mom and dad’s memoirs. The excerpt (below) is taken from the work in progress, Flight to Freedom. (My father starts by reminiscing over his personal experience flying a wide variety of disparate aircrafts over a seven year period, from 1963 to 1970, in the Nicaraguan air…

In Memory of My Beloved Uncle, Teacher, and Friend: Dr. José Thomas Campos The man that wisdom sought plucked at life’s virtuous string. What a melody you’ve made: your grandchildren skip in stride, while integrity sleeps soundly by our side. The stranger with gentle eyes is no stranger at all, who reminds us to make…

I wrote this poem about the recent death of a close friend of mine. The world lost a wonderful warrior of God. But what is our loss is heaven’s gain. I will forever remember his brave, compassionate soul. The only contrast here in the City of Gold is the ample gems under my feet. Fluorite…

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love All pray in their distress; And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness. For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love Is God, our father dear, And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love Is Man, his child and care. For Mercy has a human heart, Pity a human face, And Love,…

This is one of my favorite poems by Luci Shaw. It’s a brief but beautiful picture of the deleterious effects of the atonement on Christ and its beneficial effects for us. At light speed, God speed, time collapses into now, so that we may see Christ’s wounds as still bleeding, his torso, that ready sponge,…

And it was at the age . . . Poetry arrived in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don’t know how or when, no, they were not voices, they were not words, nor silence, but from a street I was summoned, from…