Man, this is beautiful. A life adorning the gospel.
Listen to what @StevenBartlett—host of one of the world’s most popular podcasts—says to Christian apologist John Lennox.
If you aren’t ready to potentially have a disabled child then you’re not ready for parenthood. Your child could become disabled at any period in their life.
Prestigious doctor leaves a crowded room stunned after asking pro-abortion politicians:
"If abortion is healthcare, my question is: what disease are you treating?"
Friends-
This is a tough note to write, but since a bunch of you have started to suspect something, I’ll cut to the chase: Last week I was diagnosed with metastasized, stage-four pancreatic cancer, and am gonna die.
Advanced pancreatic is nasty stuff; it’s a death sentence. But I already had a death sentence before last week too — we all do.
I’m blessed with amazing siblings and half-a-dozen buddies that are genuinely brothers. As one of them put it, “Sure, you’re on the clock, but we’re all on the clock.” Death is a wicked thief, and the bastard pursues us all.
Still, I’ve got less time than I’d prefer. This is hard for someone wired to work and build, but harder still as a husband and a dad. I can’t begin to describe how great my people are. During the past year, as we’d temporarily stepped back from public life and built new family rhythms, Melissa and I have grown even closer — and that on top of three decades of the best friend a man could ever have. Seven months ago, Corrie was commissioned into the Air Force and she’s off at instrument and multi-engine rounds of flight school. Last week, Alex kicked butt graduating from college a semester early even while teaching gen chem, organic, and physics (she’s a freak). This summer, 14-year-old Breck started learning to drive. (Okay, we’ve been driving off-book for six years — but now we’ve got paper to make it street-legal.) I couldn’t be more grateful to constantly get to bear-hug this motley crew of sinners and saints.
There’s not a good time to tell your peeps you’re now marching to the beat of a faster drummer — but the season of advent isn’t the worst. As a Christian, the weeks running up to Christmas are a time to orient our hearts toward the hope of what’s to come.
Not an abstract hope in fanciful human goodness; not hope in vague hallmark-sappy spirituality; not a bootstrapped hope in our own strength (what foolishness is the evaporating-muscle I once prided myself in). Nope — often we lazily say “hope” when what we mean is “optimism.” To be clear, optimism is great, and it’s absolutely necessary, but it’s insufficient. It’s not the kinda thing that holds up when you tell your daughters you’re not going to walk them down the aisle. Nor telling your mom and pops they’re gonna bury their son.
A well-lived life demands more reality — stiffer stuff. That’s why, during advent, even while still walking in darkness, we shout our hope — often properly with a gravelly voice soldiering through tears.
Such is the calling of the pilgrim. Those who know ourselves to need a Physician should dang well look forward to enduring beauty and eventual fulfillment. That is, we hope in a real Deliverer — a rescuing God, born at a real time, in a real place. But the eternal city — with foundations and without cancer — is not yet.
Remembering Isaiah’s prophecies of what’s to come doesn’t dull the pain of current sufferings. But it does put it in eternity’s perspective:
“When we've been there 10,000 years…We've no less days to sing God's praise.”
I’ll have more to say. I’m not going down without a fight. One sub-part of God’s grace is found in the jawdropping advances science has made the past few years in immunotherapy and more. Death and dying aren’t the same — the process of dying is still something to be lived. We’re zealously embracing a lot of gallows humor in our house, and I’ve pledged to do my part to run through the irreverent tape.
But for now, as our family faces the reality of treatments, but more importantly as we celebrate Christmas, we wish you peace: “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned….For to us a son is given” (Isaiah 9).
With great gratitude, and with gravelly-but-hopeful voices,
Ben — and the Sasses
Video: Pastor narrates how eight Fulani jihadist with swords and AK-47’s stormed a clinic, took girls into the mountains, isolated the Christians and r/aped them for hours.
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More than 7,000 Christians were murdered in Nigeria during the first 220 days of 2025.
It is terrifying.
Let us pray for our Christian brothers who are persecuted for following Christ and not renouncing their faith.
Nigerian Christians are being hunted and slaughtered by the thousands. Survivors of the attacks describe gunmen on motorcycles shouting "Allahu Akbar" as they machete children, burn homes with people inside, and demand conversions to Islam.
"Saints, may I encourage you? May I beseech you? Lay down your life. Take up your cross. Follow Him. There is nothing that they can take from us when everything that we have and everything that we are already belongs to Christ."
—Voddie Baucham
Pastoral care often means holding space for both emotion and truth. You can say, “I hear your pain,” without conceding the facts. Love listens first, wisdom speaks in due time.
There is no "Next John MacArthur."
There is no "Next Voddie Baucham."
There is no "Next Charlie Kirk."
God has never sent us duplicates of faithful Christians.
We get one of each.
This is God showing us that we do not depend on men.
We depend on Jesus.
And we have him!