This is the first 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.
The crisis is not merely that people are leaving. The crisis is that we have relinquished what is uniquely Lutheran and deeply needed.
The ethos of the church’s worship is found in poor, needy, and desperate sinners finding solace and relief in the God of their salvation.

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Nicodemus, like us, does not really have phantoms and dragons in his head. He has just one demon, one virus, one malady: he lives in fear.
His consolation will accompany us in the midst of sickness and death. He will strengthen us, even strengthen us to carry the cross of old age.
Jesus went on ahead and took our cross, our sins of poor discipleship, our weak faith, our rebellion against God’s command.
Only Jesus’ absolute absolution can satisfy a troubled conscience.
Jesus is our food and drink, our home and property, our all in all.
Jesus is our food and drink, our home and property, our all in all.
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.
She was the kind of woman in whom I see myself, in whom thousands of us see our own reflections. So often our lives seem pointless, a vain existence in a world that worships vanity.
We’re by nature counters. So long as we can add, subtract, multiply and divide something, anything, we have some measure of control and comparison.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been anxious about something. I can still feel the weight of worry from my earliest fears - believing every night I would get sucked down the pipes along with dirty, draining bath water.
Satan cannot stand the Gospel, and so he goes to work to undermine and render God’s Word an impotent and absurd message.
She does not see a Christian in the mirror. She sees a doubter.