This is the first in a series meant to let the Christian tradition speak for itself, the way it has carried Christians through long winters, confusion, and joy for centuries.
The crisis is not merely that people are leaving. The crisis is that we have relinquished what is uniquely Lutheran and deeply needed.
The ethos of the church’s worship is found in poor, needy, and desperate sinners finding solace and relief in the God of their salvation.

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This is the first in a series meant to let the Christian tradition speak for itself, the way it has carried Christians through long winters, confusion, and joy for centuries.
The crisis is not merely that people are leaving. The crisis is that we have relinquished what is uniquely Lutheran and deeply needed.
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.
The unity of God’s people is grounded not in lineage nor land but in the promise of the coming Christ.
While Thoreau’s Walden is seen as a central text of that most American of virtues—self-reliance—quiet ambition as envisioned by Tinetti is exactly the opposite: dependence on God.
On this, the birthday of Martin Luther, I will pause to thank God for his birth.
Something Reformation Christians ought to do is familiarize themselves with Roman Catholic theology.
The testimony of the Word assures us that God isn’t waiting for us at the top of the stairs, with arms folded and brows furrowed.
The Protestant milieu was pervaded with the announcement that God and God alone is the active agent in the salvation of sinners.
Why did the church dedicate a day to St. Michael anyway? Who is he, and what does he do?
Even if the Shroud were proven a medieval forgery, it would only highlight the skill of its maker. The case for Christ’s resurrection rests on eyewitness testimony.
The Nicene Creed is the gospel distilled—a refined and concentrated byproduct of Scripture’s own witness to the grace and power of God in Jesus Christ.