by Lauren Robertsonthe setapartgirl TeamSarah Guthrie
Written by Sarah Guthrie:It had become a treasured Sunday morning rhythm in the "coming of age" season in my life. While the rest of our house had a classic case of get-out-the-door-in-time-for-church mayhem, time slowed to a leisurely pace as I admired the adept movements my step-mom made in sweeping a trace of blush across her cheek.
When the Church and the world can jog comfortably together, you may be sure there is something wrong. The world has not altered. Its spirit is exactly the same as it ever was, and if Christians were equally faithful and devoted to the Lord, and separated from the World, living so that their lives were a reproof to all ungodliness, the world would hate them as much as it ever did.&mdash
When I was seven, I wrote these words in my journal: “Someday, I want to become a world-changer!” I wasn’t sure how, exactly, but I knew I wanted to do something significant with my life — something that would help people, something that would make a difference.
I work an office job where I desire to be vocal about my faith in Christ, but I struggle with knowing what to say. What are some practical ways to start a conversation that can lead to sharing the Gospel?
Raucous laughter and pulsating music resounded through the crowded, chaotic street. Eric tried to keep his fellow missionaries in sight as hundreds of drunken revelers surged around them on all sides. Eric (who later became my husband) was twenty-three, and this was one of his first missionary assignments—doing street evangelism on Bourbon Street in New Orleans during Mardi Gras&
I stood nervously in front of the microphone, trying to smile at the audience of forty teen girls who were sitting at beautifully decorated tables nibbling on cupcakes and sipping tea. I was eighteen. It was the first time I had ever been invited to speak publicly. The organizer of a mother-daughter tea at a large, wealthy church in our community asked me to share about my d
As I drove down Main Street, the late hour and the quiet of our small town made it easy for me to ponder on the uncomfortable burden on my heart. God had opened my eyes to how self-focused my life had become. I lived alone, cooked whatever I was in the mood for, worked from home, and filled my evenings and weekends with personal projects and whatever else I wanted to do.
Germany, 1933.On a crisp April morning, twenty-seven-year-old Dietrich Bonhoeffer sat pensively in his bedroom at his parents’ home in Berlin. His mind was in turmoil as he gazed down from the second-story window at the bustling city below.