I am no longer mine but wholly yours,
so wield me as you will: assign my rank
among the great or small; fling wide the doors
to honor or humiliation, thanks
or accusation—take my hand and lead
me through; permit me influence and fame
or have me follow you unseen and freed
from weights I cannot bear—but let your name
be glorified; spare me from suffering
or let it shape me; bless or break my plans;
extend my days or martyr me; I bring
my life into your scarred and sovereign hands.
Whatever comes, my heart will rest content
for you are mine—your blood my covenant.
—Michael Stalcup
The Douthat Decade
For conservative Christian nerds it is a hammer blow. Imagine the grief and shock if Taylor Swift…
The Spiritual Appeal of Democratic Socialism
As a proud “Reagan Democrat,” I felt blessed to be in Berlin a few days after the…
AOC’s Illogical Case for Egg Freezing
This is Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s week. Amid the backlash over her cavalier dismissal of “Woke 1”—the era of…