In all religions, we make a choice about what we emphasize, and I choose to come down on the side of a loving God.

As I look around on Sunday morning at the people populating the pews, I see the risk that God has assumed. For whatever reason, God now reveals himself in the world not through a pillar of smoke and fire, not even through the physical body of his Son in Galilee, but through the mongrel collection that comprises my local church and every other such gathering in God's name. (p. 68, Church: Why Bother?)

For us who are Christians, the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ is proof positive that love is stronger than hate, that life is stronger than death, that light is stronger than darkness, that laughter and joy, and compassion and gentleness and truth, all these are so much stronger than their ghastly counterparts.

Jesus declared that we should have one distinguishing mark: not political correctness or moral superiority, but love.

Jesus' death, he said, broke down the temple barriers, dismantling the dividing walls of hostility that had separated categories of people. Grace found a way.

From Jesus I learn that, whatever activism I get involved in, it must not drive out love and humility, or otherwise I betray the kingdom of heaven.

I see the confusion of politics and religion as one of the greatest barriers to grace.

Politics draws lines between people; in contrast, Jesus' love cuts across those lines and dispenses grace.

At the end of her story she said simply, "As I look back, this is what matters. I have loved and been loved, and all the rest is just background music.

Love, too, is why I believe. At the end of life, what else matters?

Love is the bottom line.

The phrase "the body of Christ," expresses well what we are called to do: to represent in flesh what Christ is like, especially to those in need. The