Does Jesus ever want his followers to kill?

Our identity is more than just the family we're born into.

What makes for mature faith?

Every meal has an aftermath.

Our moral tastes aren't all that different from our mouth tastes: we like what we like, but what we like isn't always good for us. How do we make decisions about right and wrong around the table?

If the table's a place where "everyone's a little broken and everyone belongs," how do we respond when one person's brokenness poses a danger to someone else?

If we are what we eat, what does Jesus' practice of wide open table hospitality teach us about who God wants us to be?

Christmas is the story of the most important being in the universe⁠—Jesus, in whom all things hold together⁠—surrendering his status and his safety so that all of humanity could live at peace with God and with each other.

Most of us shy away from things that make us feel vulnerable. As Brené Brown says, we're "losing our tolerance for vulnerability." At Christmas, though, we're reminded that God chose (and continually chooses) the path of maximum vulnerability.

In polite company, we're taught, no one talks about religion or politics. Far from solving our most pressing challenges, this conversational "no man's land" merely fosters extremism. What if, inspired by the example of Jesus, we could have better conversations about divisive questions?