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Celebration. Worry. Protest.

Such are Christians’ varied responses to today’s historic U.S. Supreme Court ruling to overturn Roe v. Wade. That landmark 1973 decision legalized abortion nationwide.

The long-awaited — or long-feared, depending on one’s perspective — opinion by the court’s conservative majority will let individual states set their own laws on abortion.

Audrey Jackson reports.

The steeple at the Skillman Church of Christ stretches skyward above a red-brick, Georgian building, a Dallas landmark on one of the city’s longest streets.

Three pairs of locked double doors once opened to a sanctuary that seated 1,200 when constructed in 1951. Remodeling over the years reduced the capacity to 650, but the church hasn’t used the space for worship since before the pandemic. And it hasn’t been full in decades.

On June 12, about 80 members gathered there to vote on their future.

After decades of decline, the vote ended months of speculation, anticipation and dread.

What happened? Cheryl Mann Bacon reports all the details in the latest installment of our “Where have all the churches gone?” series.

Buffalo, N.Y. Uvalde, Texas. Tulsa, Okla.

As the death toll from mass shootings grows, the gun control debate once again consumes our attention.

How should Christians respond?

Jeremie Beller tackles that question in his latest editorial.

In May 1976, on the day of my graduation from Abilene Christian University, my parents and I made sure we voted in the Texas presidential primary, each for a different candidate. Politically independent thinking is in my DNA.

My dad hated politics, but he always voted. He was a veteran and a patriot. My mom was a little obsessed with politics, and a classic conservative Republican. Barry Goldwater and Ronald Reagan were heroes. And truth really mattered to her. So did Truth.

In this Views piece, Cheryl Mann Bacon explains why she believes Christians should be “watching, listening, thinking, caring” about the Jan. 6 committee hearings.

Joyful squeals reached an ear-shattering pitch as Ukrainian children ran across the common room of the Piemont Hotel in Poland. They finally had space to play. Reprimands from adults to quiet down went understandably unheard.

The children who live in this suburban hotel, about 6 miles outside of the city of Łódź, spent hours waiting in lines, in cars and on foot, to cross into Poland from their war-torn homeland.

Many came with mothers, aunts and grandmothers as border guards detained their fathers to help with Ukraine’s war efforts. 

Audrey Jackson reports from Pabianice, Poland.