First, I would like to commend the Lesson author for a fine series of studies on the theme of Spiritual Fruit. The lessons were clearly written, biblically based, practical, and balanced theologically.

At 8.46 and 9.03 am on September 11, 2001, two passenger airliners respectively crashed into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Centre. Is this the truth?

Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab has spent most of his 23 years trying to be righteous. Righteousness for him was fulfilling the wishes of his Muslim religion.

Samson was a hero of faith, at least if one reads the glowing reports in the “Who’s Who among Ancient Hebrew Worthies” of Hebrews 11 (cf. commentary on week 8). So, why is it that Israel’s heroic strongman is singled out in this week’s study guide as a dead-ringer counter-example of self-control?

Meekness is not a popular spiritual gift or a popular character trait in today’s world.

I have been intrigued by the recent attacks on religion by the so-called new atheists, led by Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, and Sam Harris. My wife Susan, aware of my interest, recently brought to my attention a book entitled, I Don't Believe in Atheists, by Chris Hedges (New York: Free Press, 2008) while we were browsing through a bookstore. Hedges was a foreign correspondent for nearly two decades for the New York Times, The Dallas Morning News, The Christian Science Monitor and National Public Radio.

Great social reforms are not achieved by good people; technological advances are not made by good people; medical breakthroughs are not discovered by good people; military victories are not masterminded by good people.

My husband and I live in the Napa Valley region of northern California, renowned for its vineyards. Every year we revel in watching the vineyards recover from pruning with new growth that will later adorn the Fall with lavish color.

I hate it when someone says to me, “Thank you for your patience.” It usually means that I have every reason to be impatient and that someone is trying to make me be patient when I have no desire to be.

Delayed at an airport at Christmas time, unable to do anything about it, faced with the incompetence of airline employees, I get impatient. Who wouldn’t? After all, isn’t impatience in the face of injustice a good thing?

I have been thinking lately about the violence of rhetoric. Not violent rhetoric, but the violence that is often lurking just beneath the surface of our language, our reasoning, and our ways of arriving at truth.