We don’t flinch at sin. We speak Christ into it.
One might say that the first statement of the Reformation was that a saint never stops repenting.
Wisdom and strength require bootstrap-pulling and the placing of noses to grindstones.

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Imagine a church's mission statement is: "You Don't Have to Fake It Till You Make It." That is, you walk into church and an usher hands you a bulletin
In this evil generation we’re all in the dark about something. We’re all inevitably overcome by the darkness of sin and death.
“Why now,” I said to no one, or to myself, or to God. Whoever. I was drunk, strung out, mostly dead, hopeless in the darkness. I knew I’d done it all to myself. I didn’t need God to drive the point home.
Believe in God, belong to a church, and behave yourself isn’t the Gospel.
I’m still piecing together fragments. I’ve spent my life collecting scraps of personal stories that will explain my father to me.
But I remember that that’s how it ended. Words. Wine. Blood. A sudden halt to the conversation.
The kind of peace Jesus points to can't be achieved with words.