The greatest obstacle to friendship in middle age isn't that nobody wants friends. It's that everyone is waiting for someone else to go first. But here's the good news: Christ has already gone first for you. And because He has, you are free to go first for someone else.
Ecclesiastes tells us that there is a time for everything under heaven. But God has also placed eternity in our hearts, and that makes us strange creatures: able to rejoice in this life yet always aching for a life that only Christ can give.
What does it take to draw near to God? It takes a perfect priest, a finished work, and a broken body to open the way. In short, it takes everything, which is exactly what Christ has given for you.

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When we talk about love then, let us not talk about ourselves.
Heaven is as near as the Word proclaimed from the mouth of the preacher into the ear and heart of the sinner. It is as near as the bread and wine in your mouth. For, you see, Word and sacrament are where Jesus is.
We follow the example of creation and her Creator, wasting our love quite prodigally in fulfilling our callings, whether we’re thanked or spurned, applauded or ignored.
The following is an excerpt from Chad Bird’s new book, Your God Is Too Glorious: Finding God in the Most Unexpected Places (Baker Book, 2018).
Growing up in church I did not often hear the word “grace” uttered unless it was accompanied by the word “cheap” and said in a disapproving tone with a disdainful look.
Jesus lives amidst the twisted metal and smoking ruins of lives gone bad. It’s where he does his best work. Christ is the ultimate first responder.
Dual narratives are unfolding in our lives at every moment. There’s the story we’re writing, and the one penned by the Spirit.
The pastor declares it. We receive it. The forgiveness of sins. It’s a simple thing.
A heart that wants nothing that is not from God can only occur by the Holy Spirit speaking the Gospel into our hearts.
We are dangerously good at focusing on our exciting, or boring, walk of faith.
When I was a boy, I wanted to be a trashman. Little did I know that I would grow up to need a God who was a trashman.
Yes, but. It's a phrase I find myself repeating often in life. When my husband asks for forgiveness, I too often respond, "I forgive you, but…” and then continue with a list of my grievances.