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Philip Yancey is, once again, counting on the mercy and grace of God

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Philip Yancey is, once again, counting on the mercy and grace of God

Asked to judge a woman "caught in the act of adultery," the Gospel of John says Jesus stooped, wrote something in the dust, then told her accusers: "Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her."

Then he wrote again. The silent religious leaders drifted away. What happened next sums up Christian teachings on sin, grace and forgiveness, according to Philip Yancey, long one of America's most popular evangelical writers.

Jesus asked the woman: "Didn't even one of them condemn you?" She said, "No, Lord," to which he replied, "Neither do I. Go and sin no more."

Fundamentalist preachers often portray God as a "cosmic policeman, someone who was just waiting to smash somebody who does something wrong," said Yancey, during a podcast with the Rev. Russell Moore, editor-at-large of Christianity Today.

That's wrong, said Yancey. Instead, church leaders should, "Start with Jesus and end with Jesus. … Jesus wasn't a pushover, by any means, but he was always full of compassion. … He never turned someone away who had an attitude of repentance."

Yancey has repeatedly delivered this message during a half century of addressing Christian denominations, colleges and myriad other gatherings. His books, such as "The Scandal of Forgiveness," have sold 20 million copies in 49 languages.

But the Moore podcast, on "The Problem of Pain and Suffering," was posted only four months before Yancey, 76, announced his retirement -- due to an eight-year sexual relationship with a married woman.

"My conduct defied everything that I believe about marriage. It was also totally inconsistent with my faith and my writings and caused deep pain for her husband and both of our families," wrote Yancey, to Christianity Today, where he was a columnist for decades.

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"Why, oh God, why?" The question former Sen. Ben Sasse could have asked

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"Why, oh God, why?" The question former Sen. Ben Sasse could have asked

It's the question believers have asked for centuries when wars threaten nations, storms ravage cities and diseases strike loved ones: "Why, oh God, why?"

Former U.S. Senator Ben Sasse of Nebraska, 53, elected not to ask that question in an X post just before Christmas that said: "I'll cut to the chase: Last week I was diagnosed with metastasized, stage-four pancreatic cancer, and am gonna die.

"Advanced pancreatic is nasty stuff; it's a death sentence. But I already had a death sentence before last week too -- we all do. I'm blessed with amazing siblings and half-a-dozen buddies that are genuinely brothers. As one of them put it, 'Sure, you're on the clock, but we're all on the clock.' Death is a wicked thief, and the bastard pursues us all."

Sasse served as a Republican senator from 2015 until his resignation in 2023, when he became president of the University of Florida. He left that job in July 2024, after his wife, Melissa, was diagnosed with epilepsy, while also wrestling with memory issues.

Before reaching the Senate, Sasse taught at the University of Texas, served in the Department of Health and Human Services for President George W. Bush and was president of Midland University in Fremont, Nebraska. Sasse has a Yale University doctorate in history and has written bestsellers such as "The Vanishing American Adult."

The timing of the Sasse announcement was more than symbolic, said Daniel Darling, director of the Land Center for Cultural Engagement at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. Sasse noted that he was writing at the end of the Advent season, with its message of Christmas hope for this life and the next.

"To many, this may come across as pie-in-the-sky, a comforting myth that helps you get away from the cold, hard reality of death," wrote Darling, in The Dispatch. "But Christians really believe there is another world coming, that this broken reality will give way to a world made right by the one who made it."

Thus, Sasse's letter is important in an age in which "tech entrepreneurs publicly muse about transhumanist utopias" and some politicos embrace "the advancing Orwellian horror of 'death with dignity.'"

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2025 headlines: The year of Pope Leo XIV and immigration fights with Donald Trump

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2025 headlines: The year of Pope Leo XIV and immigration fights with Donald Trump

On Pentecost Sunday, Pope Leo XIV left few doubts about the issue he wanted listeners to ponder during this symbolic event early in his papacy.

"The Spirit opens borders, first of all, in our hearts," he said, in the June 8 sermon. He later added, "The Spirit also opens borders in our relationship with others," thus "opening our hearts to our brothers and sisters, overcoming our rigidity, moving beyond our fear of those who are different."

Finally, he stressed: "The Spirit also opens borders between peoples. …Where there is love, there is no room for prejudice, for 'security' zones separating us from our neighbors, for the exclusionary mindset that, tragically, we now see emerging also in political nationalisms."

For members of the Religion News Association, this was the kind of dramatic appeal that made the Chicago native the top Religion Newsmaker of 2025. The runner-up was Democratic Socialist Zohran Mamdani, who was elected as New York City's first Muslim mayor. The assassinated evangelical activist Charlie Kirk placed third.

The top U.S. religion news story was a tie between the papal election and ongoing debates about President Donald Trump and immigration. The poll stressed the White House call for "sweeping deportations of immigrants lacking legal status. … Catholic bishops and other faith-based groups protest and report parishioners avoiding worship for fear of arrest."

The rise of Pope Leo XIV was the top 2025 international religion story, with the death of Pope Francis finishing second.

In November, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops overwhelming approved a statement rejecting "a climate of fear and anxiety around questions of profiling and immigration enforcement. We are saddened by the state of contemporary debate and the vilification of immigrants." They condemned the "indiscriminate mass deportation of people."

While backing the U.S. bishops, Pope Leo told journalists outside Castel Gandolfo: "No one has said that the United States should have open borders. I think every country has a right to determine who and how and when people enter." Still, he criticized what he called "extremely disrespectful" or "inhuman" treatment of long-term immigrants who are living productive lives.

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Looking back at "Old Christmas" traditions in the mountains of southern Appalachia

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Looking back at "Old Christmas" traditions in the mountains of southern Appalachia

Candles in farmhouse windows can shine a long way on dark nights in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

That light was especially symbolic at Christmas, when settlers in frontier Appalachia -- many of them Scot-Irish -- faced hard journeys on rough roads and trails through terrain crisscrossed with mountain ridges and valleys cut by rivers and creeks.

"There was a real sense of community building that occurred during the Christmas celebration across Appalachia," said historian Ted Olson of the Appalachian Studies department at East Tennessee State University in Johnson City. "Before automobiles, travel would be on foot or horseback or in wagons. It was difficult to travel through winter conditions, with snow and ice and whatnot to visit kith and kin. …

"The candles would invite people in, suggesting that the flame of spiritual renewal is alive in this house. They said, 'Please join us! … You are welcome. We are all fellow Christians celebrating these sacred days together.'"

On the High Plains and in many frontier regions, farmers often lived great distances from one another. The distances were shorter in the "Southern Highlands" of Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee and North Carolina, but the terrain was treacherous. It might take two or three days to visit extended family or a nearby town with stores, a doctor and other necessities.

Many frontier churches welcomed occasional visits by circuit-riding preachers, and an Irish Catholic family would almost certainly be living far from a priest. Travelers on mountain roads, especially in winter storms, needed safe shelter. During the 12 days the Appalachian people called "Old Christmas," having relatives, neighbors and travelers at the door singing carols captured the essence of the season, noted Olson, author of the book "Blue Ridge Folklife," and a poet, musician and photographer.

Visitors could shout "Christmas gift," since the hosts would be prepared to offer them small gifts to show they were welcome, perhaps an orange, some candy, a decorated pinecone or something else gathered from nature.

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Stalking all of those fake C.S. Lewis quotes online (and the new AI pope)

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Stalking all of those fake C.S. Lewis quotes online (and the new AI pope)

Late in the movie "Shadowlands," the C.S. Lewis character describes the role that books can play in real life.

The famous Oxford don and author, played by Anthony Hopkins, notes: "We read books to know that we are not alone."

Lewis never wrote those memorable words -- they came from screenwriter William Nicholson, noted William O'Flaherty, author of "The Misquotable C.S. Lewis: What He Didn't Say, What He Actually Said, and Why It Matters." Nevertheless, that quote is frequently attributed to Lewis on websites and in social media.

Further complicating matters, "the movie character Lewis -- when he does say it, while the real Lewis never said it -- is quoting a student who is saying that his father said it," noted O'Flaherty, via Zoom. Many who spread this quote appear to want people to "think the real Lewis went around repeating things from others" while taking credit for them.

It doesn't help that many readers who circulate fake Lewis quotes do so because they admire the author's Christian faith expressed in 30-plus books -- fiction and nonfiction -- which sell millions of copies a year, long after his death in 1963.

Lewis is not an isolated case. In his book, O'Flaherty noted that Albert Einstein never said, "God does not play dice," Mark Twain didn't proclaim "There are three kinds of lies: lies, damn lies, and statistics" and Ernest Hemingway "never claimed he could write a short story with just six words." Conan Doyle never had Sherlock Holmes say "Elementary, my dear Watson."

The basic problem: "Too many people have a bumper sticker attention span. And typically, they love quotes because quotes give them the 'sound bite' that confirms something they ALREADY believe."

In the past, some readers simply "misremembered" quotes they heard in lectures, sermons and speeches and passed them on. Misquotes have even appeared in books or major periodicals. With some authors, movies and television based on their writings have added to the confusion. Finally, issues with misquotes kicked into high gear with the Internet and powerful social-media platforms such as Facebook, Instagram and X. How will AI affect all of this?

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Why Christians in today's marketplace need Advent music playlists

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Why Christians in today's marketplace need Advent music playlists

"O Lord, How Shall I Meet You" is a perfect Lutheran hymn for the weeks before Christmas, but shoppers will never hear it between Muzak versions of "Jingle Bells" and "White Christmas" in their local malls.

The key is that "O Lord, How Shall I Meet You" is from the penitential season of Advent, said Pastor Will Weedon. That's the four weeks preceding Christmas in liturgical calendars for Catholics, Lutherans and others in Western Christianity.

The Christmas connection is clear, stressed Weedon, with lines such as: "O Lord, how shall I meet You / How welcome You aright? /Your people long to greet You / My hope, my heart's delight! / O kindle, Lord most holy / Your lamp within my breast / To do in spirit lowly / All that may please You best."

The hymn contains this confession: "I lay in fetters, groaning / You came to set me free / I stood, my shame bemoaning / You came to honor me."

"We need to hear this as we prepare for Christmas," said Weedon, former director of worship and chaplain for the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. "Advent hymns have about them a sense of dissatisfaction with our lives in this world. …

"We have a mess on our hands, some of it of our own making, and we're praying for Christ to come and save us," he said, reached by telephone. That message "doesn't work at Walmart, where Christmas starts at Halloween. Our culture doesn't understand the idea of fasting before feasting. We are urged to party and feast all the time."

Collections of Christmas music often include a few popular Advent hymns sung in Protestant services and even in Christmas parties, such as "Joy to the World," "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" and, especially, "O Come, O Come Emmanuel." Many Catholic Advent hymns focus on the role of Mary, the mother of Jesus, such as "Rorate Caeli (Drop down, ye Heavens."

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The convert era: What will Orthodox America look like in 2040 (Part II)

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The convert era: What will Orthodox America look like in 2040 (Part II)

The Orthodox baptism rite includes a three-stage exorcism that is extremely detailed about the spiritual warfare that surrounds new Christians.

Finally, there is this appeal to God: "Redeeming this Your creature from the yoke of the Enemy, receive him (her) into Your heavenly Kingdom. … Yoke unto his (her) life a shining Angel to deliver him (her) from every plot directed against him (her) by the Adversary, from encounter with evil, from the noon-day demon, and from evil dreams. Drive out from him (her) every evil and unclean spirit, hiding and lurking in his (her) heart."

The "Enemy" is Satan. Catechumens are asked, three times: "Do you renounce Satan, and all his works, and all his worship, and all his angels, and all his pomp?" They respond: "I do renounce him."

After several years of conversations while travelling nationwide, Father Andrew Stephen Damick is convinced these ancient prayers are painfully relevant to many converts surging into the small, but now growing, "Eastern Church" in America. It is no longer unusual to meet converts who have worshipped other gods and spirits.

"There's a sense of disenchantment, both in the sense of people feeling disillusioned and sort of bummed by the culture in general, but also disenchantment in the sense of a disconnection from the unseen spiritual world," said Damick, of the online Ancient Faith Ministries.

The converts want stability and guidance. Damick, via Zoom, stressed that many have "experienced the darkness of the unseen spiritual world and want to know what to do about that."

During a recent online forum -- "American Orthodoxy in 2040" -- Seraphim Rohlin, a data scientist who is also a deacon in the Orthodox Church in America, described a survey of converts in the Dallas area. As expected, 50% were former evangelicals, but 25% were former Catholics and 25% were truly "unchurched," including some neopagans. After a surge of young male converts, Orthodox leaders are now tracking a larger wave of young families.

As with many faith groups, some Orthodox parishes declined during the coronavirus pandemic. Other parishes stalled. Still, there have been pockets of Orthodox growth across the nation, even in areas with plateaued or declining population numbers. The biggest surge is in the Sun Belt and West, with numerous parishes doubling and tripling in size.

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Ancient churches of Orthodoxy are being flooded with American converts (Part I)

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Ancient churches of Orthodoxy are being flooded with American converts (Part I)

For Orthodox Christians in America, the 20th century was shaped by waves of believers fleeing wars, revolutions and persecution in lands such as Greece, Syria, Russia and Romania.

The Orthodox did everything they could to preserve their faith and cultural traditions. When bishops visited these small flocks, it was rare to see converts.

Then, in the late 1980s, flocks of evangelical Protestants swept into the Antiochian Orthodox church and then the Orthodox Church in America, which has Slavic roots. These converts began reaching out to others. Then came the seeker-friendly Internet. Then came COVID. Suddenly, streams of young families began exploring what was often called the mysterious, ancient "Eastern Church."

"Some observers liken this influx to a flood, and the comparison is accurate. I do not visit a parish without meeting catechumens there. In some parishes, they number more than 100," said Metropolitan Saba, leader of the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North America, in a recent Denver address.

"While many long-standing believers see in the converts a source of renewal and vitality -- and a spur to discover their own Orthodoxy personally and deeply, not merely as a social religious tradition -- many also feel somewhat threatened by the cultural changes occurring in their parish."

In a survey of his priests, Saba said, one wrote: "The century of the 'church of immigrants' has ended; the century of evangelization has begun. Orthodoxy's mission is no longer primarily geographical … but existential."

Orthodox Christianity remains a small flock in America, with 2-3 million believers in 2,000 parishes. The Pew Research Center has estimated that, globally, there are 260 million Orthodox Christians, the next largest communion after the Catholic Church with 1.4 billion.

The bottom line: The catechumenate class numbers are staggering.

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Guitarist Phil Keaggy is still trying to blend his faith with serious rock music

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Guitarist Phil Keaggy is still trying to blend his faith with serious rock music

ASHEVILLE, N.C. -- On the day he became a Christian in 1970, guitarist Phil Keaggy returned home seeking the perfect song to help him wrestle with the changes in his life.

With his rock trio Glass Harp, he was already a rising star in mainstream music, touring across America and recording a Carnegie Hall live album. He was also in a "tender place" after losing his mother a week earlier. Flipping through his records, he found Eric Clapton's soaring "Presence of the Lord" from the "Blind Faith" album.

"I have finally found a place to live just like I never could before," sang Keaggy, performing this week at the Billy Graham Training Center at the Cove, in the Blue Ridge Mountains. "I know I don't have much to give, but soon I'll open any door. Everybody knows the secret. Everybody knows the score. I have finally found a place to live, in the presence of the Lord."

This was a symbolic choice, since "I bought that album because I loved Cream," said Keaggy, referring to the blues-rock trio that made Clapton a superstar. "There was so much yearning in that song, for God, for a sense of peace. I found it comforting and I listened to it over and over, at least a dozen times."

But trying to combine Christian faith with serious rock music created a dilemma, when Keaggy entered what record-industry pros have long called CCM -- Contemporary Christian Music. Most of his 55 albums were first sold in Christian bookstores, instead of mainstream music chains. In recent decades, he recorded his influential acoustic-guitar albums, such as "Beyond Nature" in 1991, on his own, in a home studio.

"CCM never really understood me," said Keaggy, the day after his concert drew fans from 35 different states to the Cove auditorium. "I'm not sure that CCM understands what I'm trying to do today. It doesn't matter anymore."

With his digital home studio and links to musicians nationwide, Keaggy has made a variety of solo and collaborative instrumental, as well as vocal, recordings with colleagues blending pop, rock, jazz, ambient electronics and what CCM leaders call "worship" music. But his latest project represents another attempt to mix Christian content with mainstream rock.