God can handle grief, rage, and cries for justice. God can handle the victim who cannot yet forgive. God can handle the prayer that comes out jagged and wounded. The good news is that God is holy and merciful enough to handle all our prayers.
But while scholars are right to focus on the bond between Martin and Hans, the evidence of Martin’s own words suggests their relationship may not have been as troubled as some suppose. For Hans Luther was not a cartoon villain but a normal human being attempting to make his way in the world and raise his children to the best of his ability.
Jesus offers something infinitely better. He tells us to put down our gavel—not because sin isn't real, but because the only Judge who has the right to condemn is the very One who was condemned for us.

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The child was sleeping deep within the manger, sod, & hay. His tiny cries raised a heavn’ly din, on this most sacred day.
When your identity is tied up in the judgment of others—you're in deep trouble. Because, however well-curated and photo-shopped your life may be, sooner or later someone is going to look at you, they'll swipe, and they'll move on.
The Gospel is gift, pure and simple. It is backwards. It is upside down. It is foolish. And as long as people are sinners, it is as relevant as ever.
We don’t just need someone to bear our guilt and die for us. We also need someone to defeat all of the forces of sin and darkness and anxiety and depression that overwhelm us.
There is no comfort in naked sovereignty. A bully may be said to be “sovereign” over the elementary school playground, but that doesn’t bring much comfort nor does it promise security. We need something more than a God who is in control.
The true miracle of springtime isn't simply its beauty, but in the way it foreshadows the sprigs of life that spring forth when God creates faith from the fallow ground of dead sinners.
In our search for absolution, human beings leave no stone unturned. We’re desperate to have our uneasy consciences soothed.
No matter how fast we run—the little Pharisee on our shoulder is still standing there, arms crossed, shaking his head, and telling us we could have done more. We could have done better.
As I sat there in the dark, empty church with my hands buried in the guts of a copy machine I was powerless to fix, I couldn't help feeling sorry for myself.
The question is this: Is it possible to truly believe God will give us a desirable answer to our prayers, and at the same time be OK if He doesn't?
The gelded Gospel is shiny and attractive and compelling, and we can perform the procedure in any number of ways.
Happiness is a slippery term. We all want it. We're all supposed to pursue it. But nobody seems to know how to obtain it.