The wonder of the Incarnation touches an unanticipated chord during a Christmas show in Quebec.

"I dream that someday hatred and violence will have no place in our world. I dream that children will not go hungry and that education will be available for all. I dream that children will be able to imagine a future that’s bright and hopeful."

“Every human being is born free and equal in dignity.” Although it might seem so obvious that it’s hardly worth stating, today it is neither true nor obvious to many of the most powerful forces in the world. The morality of human freedom, equality and dignity must still be declared.

I've often wondered if I’m doing enough to lay a spiritual foundation for my children. Then a moment last September gave me a new perspective. 

God still calls The Salvation Army to be a prophetic voice in an increasingly lost and wayward world, with Scripture in one hand, obedience in the other—living and being the Army God intended.

Allow me to paraphrase an old folktale. Thousands of starfish have washed onto a beach, where many of them will die. A young boy gently tosses one back into the water, then another and another. An onlooker asks, “Why are you bothering? You can’t save them all. You’re wasting your time. How can this make any significant difference?” The boy looks at the starfish in his hand, smiles, and says, “It makes a difference to this one.”

We arrived in Niagara Falls, Ont., to begin our first year of ministry as a family 443 days ago. It’s hard to articulate how many emotions and discoveries that number represents. We had no idea what life was going to look like. As Salvation Army officers, we have the freedom to grow together in ministry—to invest in our marriage and our children. After all, God called us as a family, didn’t he?

I’m pregnant with hope right now. Which is weird. Because, well, things aren’t so good on a global scale. On the way to a conference recently, I had a frank conversation with my Uber driver. She’s not so hopeful. She talked about the horror of the shooting in Las Vegas and the hopelessness she felt about the American political system and the results of global warming on the world, and lamented the fact that she chose to bring children into this god-forsaken place. But all the time she was sharing, as I listened to her pain, what I felt was hope. Which is weird. Why am I feeling hope at a time that seems so perilous and hopeless? And that’s when it hit me.

The Reformation was a reforming of the Christian church. It was about getting to the heart of what the Christian good news is.

God isn’t afraid of our questions.