Wade Johnston, Life Under the Cross: A Biography of the Reformer Matthias Flacius Illyricus, Concordia Publishing House, St. Louis: MO, 2025.
This ancient “tale of two mothers” concerns far more than theological semantics—it is the difference between a God who sends and a God who comes.
This story points us from our unlikely heroes to the even more unlikely, and joyous, good news that Jesus’ birth for us was just as unlikely and unexpected.

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The force of our love is violent. It is love acted out as, “I will love you in a way that’s best for me, and you’ll like it, and celebrate it, and reward me for it.
Our complaints about God's grace always sound the same: "It was good to see him in church with his son this morning.
No matter how loving we are, we don’t get bonus points with the Almighty for imitating Jesus. We love each other because we recognize that “this is one for whom Jesus died.
Why confess sin? Is it so we can get rewarded by God? A little extra grace or material good for our troubles, maybe.
When we think God is doing something for us here or there or everywhere, we are simply fixing labels and putting value on what we imagine God is doing for us.
The author, Flannery O'Connor, said, "All I can say about my love of God is, Lord help me in my lack of it."
All the verbs of our salvation are passive. God calls and gathers people to him through his Gospel.
It's easy to become habituated to sin. It comes naturally, after all. The power and pressure of sin on us, from conception to the grave, is immense.
Without the “simul” distinction, theology lapses into moralism.
He always puts our life and salvation first. He’ll never accept our defeat. He’ll never quit on us. He’ll never leave us fallen and alone.
Nicodemus, like us, does not really have phantoms and dragons in his head. He has just one demon, one virus, one malady: he lives in fear.
The Church of Jesus Christ is and stays Jesus' Church whether we decide it is or not.