Living by faith has never been about what we bring to the table. It has always been, and always will be, about what God does for us when we can’t do anything for ourselves.
The entire history of Protestantism is downstream of a goldsmith in Mainz figuring out how to cast identical pieces of lead type in less than a minute.
When we despair of ourselves, we repent of these self-justifying schemes and allow ourselves to be shaped by God, covered in Christ’s righteousness, and reborn with a new heart.

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Thanksgiving is never out of place for the Christian.
The Lord has an answer to your tears, your trouble, your weariness, your enemies, your grief, your shame, your sin.
May you believe, in this thin-line world, that this Jesus is for you, not against you.
O weary ones, O long-time waiting and watching ones, O ones who are late to the game, he is your rest this busy season, and always.
While so much remains the same week after week, the past years have taught me how much changes. And I kind of like it.
When you are stripped down to nothing, desperate, lowly, you will again know what she knows: the crumbs are enough, Jesus is enough, for you.
For the God-man goes from borrowed donkey to borrowed upper room to borrowed cross and borrowed tomb. For you.
In schools and on barstools and in delis and where two or three gather, your Savior turns you loose to encounter those who are delightful and loveable.