MSI Press Blog

  1. The Question Why do Christians say things like “That’s karma” — when karma isn’t part of Christian theology? Is it just a slip of the tongue? Or is something deeper going on? 2. The Human Angle You hear it all the time: “She got what was coming to her — karma.” “I try to put good energy out there so karma comes back around.” “That’s karma for being selfish.” And yet, these are Christians talking. People who believe in grace, not reincarnation. So what’s happening? 3. The Inquiry Let’s start with definitions. Karma is a concept from Eastern religions — especially Hinduism and Buddhism — that says your actions in this life determine your fate in future lives. It’s part of a cycle of rebirth and moral consequence. Christianity , by contrast, teaches: One life, followed by judgment (Hebrews 9:27) Salvation by grace, not merit (Ephesians 2:8) Forgiveness through Christ, not through working off moral debt Resurrection, not reincarnation So why do Christians use the word ka...

  Compassion is one of those words we toss around as if everyone means the same thing by it. But real compassion—the kind that changes relationships, softens hardened places, and restores dignity—has nothing to do with pity and nothing to do with superiority. Compassion is mercy without arrogance. It is humble. We often imagine compassion as something we give from a position of strength to someone in a position of weakness. But that framing already distorts the truth. The moment compassion becomes a performance of benevolence, it stops being compassion and becomes condescension dressed in soft language. True compassion begins with the recognition that we are not separate from the person in front of us. Their suffering is not an object lesson. Their struggle is not a stage on which we get to act out our virtue. Compassion is not a spotlight; it’s a lowering of oneself to meet another at eye level. Humility is the safeguard. Humility keeps compassion honest. Humility says: I...

  Precerpt from  Raising God’s Rainbow Makers (Mahlou) Noelle: Charming Ways Every week, I’d drive Noelle to Andi’s house in the Pittsburgh suburbs. It was our sacred little errand—part therapy, part friendship, part “Mom’s Taxi Service.” Noelle, my bright-eyed girl with crayon-blue eyes and leg braces that pointed straight ahead like tiny silver skis, would sit beside me in the passenger seat, chatting about everything from butterflies to Bible verses. One morning, I was running late. The kind of late where you start praying for time to bend like a Marvel movie. I zipped through the neighborhood in my bright orange car (which, let’s be honest, was basically a traffic cone with wheels), and in my rush, I missed a stop sign. The cop didn’t. Siren. Lights. Gulp. I pulled over, already rehearsing my apology and wondering if “I’m a mom on a mission” counted as a legal defense. The officer peered in. Noelle sat beside me, her braces poking forward, her blonde hair wispy as a whispe...