In Christ, you are bound. Bound to mercy. Bound to grace. Bound to a God who won’t let you go. And because of that, you are free—gloriously, joyfully free.
The baptized do not celebrate sin—they grieve it.
When Jesus ascends, he does so, bearing gifts for you.

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The pirates spent their lives seeking after the treasure and after finally attaining it, they discover that it was cursed. Instead of satisfying their empty souls, it only intensified their cravings.
I’m still piecing together fragments. I’ve spent my life collecting scraps of personal stories that will explain my father to me.
O bloody town of Bethlehem, How shrill we hear thee cry. Your mothers shriek while fathers weep The graveyard lullaby.
Have you ever read scripture and been caught by a crippling wave of guilt, shame and fear? Have you sat with your Bible open in front of you and thought, “Well, if this is the case, I might as well pack it in right now, because there’s no hope for me!”
Dan reminded me—in his words, in his patient suffering, through his unwavering faith in Christ, by his confidence in his baptism—that Jesus Christ does not abandon his own. No matter where they are, no matter what they’re going through, He is there.
What if, while we were admitting all these serious infractions of the divine law, our pastor simply yawned?
We are a sinning church with a preaching problem.
When we begin singing the opening hymn, our voices blend with those of angels in heaven, who have been belting out hymns long before we rolled out of bed that morning.
If there was a proclamation of grace, it was an afterthought, given in the sense of “just in case anyone needs this.”
Nevertheless, we believe, teach, and confess that this unlikely King advents weekly to meet with His people in the Divine Service through His Word and Sacraments.
Here’s what lurks beneath this seemingly righteous behavior: they wanted to make a name for themselves, these tower-builders.
I stumbled down labyrinthine paths, crawled in and out of cavernous pits, got lost a million times, and somehow ended up a little farther down the road to healing. Yet in all those crooked lines I see the hand of God writing straight.