When we consider our own end, it will not bring us into a final wrestling match with the messenger of God, but into the embrace of the Messiah of God.
What do such callings look like? They are ordinary and everyday.
This is the third 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.

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This is an excerpt from the prologue of “On Any Given Sunday: The Story of Christ in the Divine Service” by Mike Berg (1517 Publishing, 2023).
My fear of this coming darkness only lasts a moment.
What we discover in O’Connor’s stories and Martin Luther’s theology is that God’s grace is elusive because the human heart is resistant to it.
We can’t predict the harvest. We can only sow.
Nothing moves or drives Paul more than preaching about “Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:2).
We don't make Church "happen." Only Christ can do so. It's his happening.
This is the message of Lent. We are not called to sacrifice for Jesus in order to earn our salvation. Rather, we are called to remember the sacrifice that Jesus made for us.
Even if the numbers are bad, the news about Jesus crucified for sinners and raised to new life hasn’t become any less good.
There is a revival, no less real and even more definitive, taking place in every church, every weekend, where God’s people gather around his gifts.
Reading includes, on some level, striving. Hearing, on the other hand, remains passive.
Zephaniah has given us something more visceral to help us understand the love of God: the sound of salvation.
This sermon was originally given at Luther Seminary chapel on May 20, 1986.