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For all its manifold charms—Vince Guaraldi’s evergreen jazz score first among them—the highlight of the Charlie Brown Christmas special is the moment when Linus recites the story of the angels announcing Jesus’ birth.

I’m a practical Midwestern girl, born to a certified public accountant. 

My wife writes the best thank-you notes. They make people cry. 

American evangelicals are rediscovering the church calendar.

I have the good fortune (misfortune?) of being located in a highly competitive congressional district right in the midst of election season. 

St. Augustine famously prayed, “Lord, grant me holiness, but not yet.” (Domine, da mihi sanctitiam, sed noli modo.) We may relate to his prayer. 

On occasion—usually when it’s bright and sunny out and I’m not doing much of anything—I’ll look up and notice that the hounds of my worst mental habits have gotten loose. 

Suddenly, in my mind, I’m tearing my coworker apart limb from limb. How could she get the recognition that I rightfully deserved? This was the moment when I realized that pride was a problem in my life.

What would it look like if, every day, in every conversation, in every social media interaction, followers of Jesus lived out Philippians 2:3-4 in the ways we listened to others?

Are you in ministry? Yes. You are. And I’m not just talking to the campus ministers among us.