"All I Want for Christmas is You" is the best-selling Christmas song of all time. At its heart is a vulnerability that's essential to the Christmas season. Hope requires risk, an admission that where we are is not where we want to be. How can we choose to be vulnerable as we approach Christmas? 

Have you noticed Christmas decorations seem to be going up earlier and earlier? First it was Thanksgiving... now Halloween is in danger of getting swallowed up by Kris Kringle! But with a world so full of war, plague and division, is it any wonder we want to throw up Christmas Cheer like a shield? Can you blame us for wanting a garland-strewn respite? But is it possible that, by closing ourselves off from the pain in the world, we miss the truly liberating power of Christmas? 

During the Christmas season, we celebrate God coming to earth. In a world marked by violence, division and bigotry, God's arrival means a big shake up. Are we sure we're ready for God's arrival? If not, how can we prepare? 

Christians aren't known for being curious. Why would we be, when we have a monopoly on truth? But that attitude is at odds with the God who created our universe and invited us to explore. It's at odds with the God who calls us to welcome the stranger and go into the whole world. What does a church that cultivates curiosity look like? How does prioritizing curiosity shape our mission and engagement with the world around us?

Nobody likes change, but it's inevitable. And for people of faith, change is good. We're called to embrace change so radical the only word for it is resurrection. So how can we take change seriously - in our own lives, in our congregation and in our world?

Even though diversity has become a buzz word, it's hard to find any organization that takes it seriously - especially churches. What does it look like to take diversity seriously? The radical truth is that none of us is free until all of us is free. So how can we chase that together as a church?

We're in the midst of a loneliness epidemic, and far too often, churches are part of the problem. How can that be, when Jesus insists that he made us his friends? What does it mean for a church to take friendship seriously, particularly in the midst of a culture dying to connect? 

There's no way around it: change is traumatic. That the change is good doesn't alter the reality that it's really hard. Paul's paradigm-shifting transformation on the road to Damascus illustrates the pain and joy of following God's radical call to something new. How does faith enable us to follow God faithfully into the unknown?