This story is not meant for six-year-olds, but it is meant for us, though we should hardly handle it.
Despite how deep Habakkuk sank into doubt and despair, his faith was not entirely lost. He was merely taking his doubts where they belonged: to the Lord.
Decisionalism expects you to raise yourself through a choice, but Scripture says only Christ raises the dead.

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When those who are serving joyfully and willingly are instead encouraged to complain that they are carrying the load for the rest of the body, all hope is lost.
This is my fifteenth year on staff at Bible camp. The path to the snack shop is well worn, and I’m an expert at carpet ball.
All other wonderful teachings of Holy Scripture from creation to Christ’s coming again are absolutely worthless without being understood in light of Jesus, death, and resurrection for sinners.
The force of our love is violent. It is love acted out as, “I will love you in a way that’s best for me, and you’ll like it, and celebrate it, and reward me for it.
I, like you probably, have an uncontrollable aversion to any food product that is past its expiration date.
No matter which side, it’s easy for all of us to build Bible verses into grenades aimed at obliterating the political other.
Where once we confessed reliance only in ourselves and our own power, now we confess reliance on Christ alone. So, for our relationship before God, our confession of faith matters.
Our meditation listens to the King of Kings when He says; it is finished.
Our complaints about God's grace always sound the same: "It was good to see him in church with his son this morning.
In God’s eyes, the last day has already happened in Jesus. We’ve already been made alive in Jesus, raised with him, and seated with him at the Father’s right hand.
No matter how loving we are, we don’t get bonus points with the Almighty for imitating Jesus. We love each other because we recognize that “this is one for whom Jesus died.
The following is an excerpt from Martin Luther’s Commentary on Saint Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians (1535), translated by Haroldo Camacho (1517 Publishing, 2018).