Sermons

I. “A broken and contrite heart, O God, thou shalt not despise” (Psalm 51:17). Ivan Ilyich was an old man on his deathbed when he first reflected about life. He had been a polished and respectable man of his class. But then he became sick. He was dying, and that changed everything. Society didn’t have a place for his kind now. His colleagues forgot him. He was an embarrassment to his family, and spent his last remaining weeks tossing in agony. But then, on the last day, it al

I. “Woe is me! For I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips…my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.” Prophet Isaiah was swept up into heaven in a vision. He stood face to face with God, and you can imagine, trembled from overwhelming awe. I have never been out in the deep sea during a storm, but sometimes wonder what it would have been like a hundred years ago, on a small wooden boat, to lookup and see a wave larger than life just about to break. I imagine this

I. He was walking by the seashore struggling to make sense of things. For the past several months, St. Augustine had set out to write a book on the Holy Trinity. God is one: God is three. One indivisible unity: three unique persons. Every analogy is flawed. Every exercise of reason falls short. Augustine was one of the greatest intellectuals of his time. He’d been to the best schools. He knew philosophy and theology unlike anyone. Two ecumenical councils have since declared