Living by faith has never been about what we bring to the table. It has always been, and always will be, about what God does for us when we can’t do anything for ourselves.
The entire history of Protestantism is downstream of a goldsmith in Mainz figuring out how to cast identical pieces of lead type in less than a minute.
When we despair of ourselves, we repent of these self-justifying schemes and allow ourselves to be shaped by God, covered in Christ’s righteousness, and reborn with a new heart.

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This article is written by guest contributor, Christopher J. Richmann.
Jesus continues to do the same for me and for you as he did for his disciples. He still shows up for us. He still speaks his peace to us.
You are the baptized, for in Christ we are all wet. The demographic dividers are washed away.
We can interpret "be the Church" as either law or gospel.
Regardless of background or beliefs, every American I talk to seems on edge, as if the sky were about to fall. But the sky is not falling.
He shows up when we are at our worst to usher us back to his side, lead us to repentance, rescue us, and reclaim us as his own.
Sometimes, we get prayer dementia. We can’t remember what we were going to pray for, we can’t put the words together, and, frustrated, there is nothing we can do but sigh and groan.
Regularly reading and hearing God’s Word helps us to keep a song in our hearts.
What if the dissonance in this calendrical coincidence can be harmonized into a deeper melody?
The driving impulse of Lent isn’t so much “giving up” things as it is “putting on” something.
At the Transfiguration, we say farewell to alleluia and hello to the horrific reality of our lost condition.
God never delights in seeing his children struggle or suffer. But God does desire that we trust him no matter what the circumstances might look like.