Dr Paul Allen

There is no way out . She knows such bitter, biting thoughts are wrong and shameful, but her friend’s comment cut so deeply. Her mind keeps returning to the moment, reliving the wound. She feebly tries to turn her thoughts elsewhere, but the offence seems to surround her like a fog. And how do you fight a fog? He, too, is well aware that he’s walking down a worthless path. He’s been here before — this thought, leading to that fantasy, producing these seemingly unconquerable desires. Maybe he could have escaped if he had turned around immediately, but he feels he has gone too far. He has plucked and felt the fruit; how can he not now taste it? No way out. Who hasn’t felt the force of these words amid bitterness, lust, or a thousand other temptations? And who hasn’t succumbed to their dark suggestion? If some lies have slain their thousands, this lie has slain its ten thousand. Every Temptation Escapable We are hardly the first to feel trapped, surrounded, and hemmed in by the power of s

“O you of little faith . . .” The words run through the Gospel of Matthew as a kind of refrain, reminding us of the disciples’ wavering trust. And perhaps of our own. Four times, we hear this rebuke cushioned with tenderness, this tenderness steeled with rebuke. Do you see, disciples, how God feeds the ravens and robes the lilies? And “will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?” (Matthew 6:30). Winds may blow and waves may rise on the fickle Sea of Galilee, but I will be with you — I, the storm-stilling Son of God. So “why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” (Matthew 8:26). Every wave will hold your feet if you only keep your eyes on me, Peter. But “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” (Matthew 14:31). Do you remember, my twelve, how I fed thousands from a few leftover loaves? Then “O you of little faith, why are you discussing among yourselves the fact that you have no bread?” (Matthew 16:8). Why such tenderness in this rebuke? Because their faith, though littl