I often hear Christians say, “Christianity is not a religion; it’s a relationship.” And I’m never entirely sure what they mean.
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I often hear Christians say, “Christianity is not a religion; it’s a relationship.” And I’m never entirely sure what they mean.
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One of the things I’ve tried to do in this newsletter is take a pause from the news cycle and write about bigger, deeper trends that shape American life, including our marriage divides, the masculinity crisis, evolving sexual norms, the ways we argue, and how we forgive.
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They are a chance for children to be silly and a touch subversive, and to get a glimpse of how other families live their lives. Sleepovers were mostly a nightmare for me as a child, and I mean that literally: I had nightmares every single time I slept over at a friend’s house.
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Oxytocin, often lauded as the “hug hormone,” might not be necessary to induce affection. Of the dozens of hormones found in the human body, oxytocin might just be the most overrated.
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We’re prone to embroidering shrouds with false and flimsy ghosts, prone to telling untrue stories of our dead, rewriting them in our own image or in the image of some saccharine version of sanctity.
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The Harvard Study of Adult Development has established a strong correlation between deep relationships and well-being. The question is, how does a person nurture those deep relationships?
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Who decides what is misinformation in a church? How can such judgments be made in a disinterested manner under conditions in which assets and budgets are at stake and trust is low among different parties?
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One of the hardest realizations in life, and one of the most liberating, is that our mothers are neither saints nor saviors — they are just people who, however messy or painful our childhood may have been, and however complicated the adult relationship, have loved us the best way they knew how, wi
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Last spring, my boyfriend sublet a spare room in his apartment to an aspiring model. The roommate was young and made us feel old, but he was always game for a bottle of wine in the living room, and he seemed to like us, even though he sometimes suggested that we were boring or not that hot.
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This world is radiant with beauty. This world is also capable of bone-chilling brutality and the small, corrosive daily cruelties that salt our days with sorrow.
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