Greg Morse

Before Jesus gave his hands to the nails, he used them to wash the dirt from his disciples’ feet. What thoughts caused one so high to go so low?

A professing Christian may live years in the church, even decades, yet in the end still hear those haunting words of Jesus: “I never knew you.”

Live for something. Stand for something. Die for something. If God has made you a man, then rise up and act like one.

Maybe we say “if only” to protect us from the disappointment of dreams fulfilled and longings still unmet. Maybe the grass is always greener — and we prefer to have it so.

The craft of Christian writing obsesses over reality, arranges truth with care, quests for fitting phrases — and stands ever enthralled by the One above all words.

If we really believed in hell — in eternal, conscious torment — might we have more courage to tell people about Jesus?

How needful is it to know our end before we get there? How priceless to feel our fleetness before our ship sails?

Fathers give life through death. They lay themselves down to die, like seeds planted in the earth, trusting that God will grant a future harvest.

In our overly sensitive society, have we lost the ability to talk to men like men?

Though God made us for more, we often live caged in our own choices. Yet he bids us, “Come and be free.”