Peter Leithart preaches the gospel.

HT: Mark Horne

Fr. Stephen writes on sacraments, reality and modernity

Dear Rachael, Bekah, Hannah, Naomi, Tommy and Esther,

Whew, I’m going to have to find a shorter way of addressing you all. That’s a lot of typing for a ‘hunt and pecker’ like myself (TOMMY! NAOMI! Stop snickering. I know; leave it alone) I’ll try ‘You Young ‘uns’ or something similar in the future. You’ll know whom it’s for.

This past Sunday we brought little Annalise to our God for baptism. I was so thankful that each of you was there. Through Fr. Tom’s voice you heard God’s word to her. In our pastor’s hands you saw Christ take her to himself. Though the splashing of water fell short of the thunderous roar we might have expected from such an event, through it Annalise left one creation and emerged in another.

It’s the sort of thing you’d expect to see on the SciFi channel.

Each of you has been spoken to in a similar way. Our king has called each of you by name. By his grace (for it was before you even knew that he existed) he took you from the world into which you were born and placed you into another- a world which is yet to be seen in all of its fullness.

I know that sounds a little over the top. It’s also true that I’m prone to…. extravagances. It must be genetic, because one or two of you have inherited the trait, but in this case I’m just giving the unembellished truth.

I wanted to remind each of you of your own baptisms and the reality each spoke into being. This is just a long way of saying that I wanted to remind you of who you are.

Of course you know that you are you. I realize that, but perhaps you forget that there are many different ways of telling ‘The Story of You.’ If you think about it, y’all will realize that there has never been a just you.


Every morning you wake up in a bed. There are blankets on top and a whole world outside. Every day you pester your brother or sisters. There is no ‘you’ apart from the world you inhabit, and so ‘the story of you’ ripples out to include everything else- friends, trees, stinky cheese and even school teachers.

It works the other way, too. (more…)



My wife placed an afternoon’s worth of cooking on the kitchen table, and with the uneven rhythm of popcorn escaping from an over filled fist, all six of the children began falling into their seats. Teasing, laughter, and delicious smells tumbled around the room. I grinned at my third born, who was standing beside me.

“Do you know what this is?” I asked her, indicating the glorious and raucous domesticity.

“It’s God making a pass at us.” she grinned back

She was right. (more…)