Standing at the Threshold
What this place is for, and what I hope we will become here together.
A threshold is a strange and holy place. It is neither the room you are leaving nor the room you are entering. It is the line between, the place of crossing, the moment before. Scripture is full of thresholds — doorposts marked with blood, the edge of the Jordan, the entrance of the empty tomb. To stand at a threshold is to stand where one world ends and another has not quite begun.
That is the spirit in which I begin this. I do not want a publication that merely reacts to the moment, that chases the outrage of the week and calls it discernment. I want a place that stands at the threshold — attentive to where the church has been, honest about where it is, and unafraid to ask where the Lord is taking it next.
So here is what you can expect. Writing that takes Scripture seriously as the Word that judges us before we judge anything else. Reflection that refuses both the despair of the cynic and the denial of the optimist. A willingness to look at the church’s failures without flinching, and at her hope without embarrassment. And a steady conviction that the gospel is larger, older, and stronger than any of the small versions we have made of it.
I write as a former pastor, church-planter and a current doctoral student, from the margins and toward the center, shaped by a global church that the Western church too often forgets it has. I do not have it all figured out. A threshold is precisely the place where you admit you are still crossing.
If that is the kind of company you are looking for, you are welcome here. Take off your shoes if you like. The ground at a threshold has a way of turning out to be holier than it looked.
— Sunny