The gospel isn’t for the strong but people who know they aren’t.
One great thing about our post-denominational age is that it has opened up opportunities to make common cause with other Lutherans who, despite their differences and eccentricities, can agree on some of the most important things.
Pride builds identities that leave no room for grace.

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I was walking through a mall recently, and all the spring decorations and colors were starting to appear. It was refreshing to see the fresh colors and a change of scenery as I strolled through the mall.
By Philip Melanchthon (from the 1535 Loci Communes), translated by Scott L. Keith, Ph.D., edited by Kurt Winrich
The Lord has a special place in his heart for those whom the world forgets. For the anonymous. For the rejected.
Your sins do not exist because He who called heaven and earth into existence, has called your sins out of existence. He who made everything from nothing unmakes your sins into nothing.
We hang on to our sins not despite the fact that they hurt, but precisely because they do hurt. We need to hurt, to fret over them, to cry over them, to make amends over them, because by doing so, we will grease the wheels of God’s forgiveness.
Grace is easier to tweet about than extend. When we are talking about my sin and the impact it has on others, I want grace.
Warning, Remember, O man, that thou art dust… And lust, he mocks in mute self-condemnation.
Surely everyone reading at one time or another in their lives has heard the popular phrase I’m writing about today.
What is really good for the soul is not so much confession as absolution. If confession is us telling the truth about ourselves to God, then absolution is God telling us a truer truth about ourselves.
In nature one with God, The Son partakes in love, Of human flesh that we, Partake of God above.
Whether we are overcome by happiness on the mountaintop or overwhelmed by sorrow in the valley, our vision can be our greatest handicap.
We chase after status, wealth, luxury, glory, honor, youth, beauty, and pleasure. We work ourselves to death. For what?