Perhaps God always intended for Bucer to use his unique skill set to unite people, acting as a bridge between movements centered on the recovery of the gospel.
Protestants, in my view, don’t suffer from a Goldilocks problem. They have an arrogance problem.
We need redemption, and we receive it in our church community through God’s Word.

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For most of us, waiting on God is not funny at all. It makes us wonder if he cares. If he has forgotten us. In our darkest hours, many even wonder if the atheists are right, if our prayers are nothing more than sick words vomited into an empty heaven.
We believers are those who have been called out for a special healing mission in the world because we’ve caught a glimpse of the heavenly city.
You may not believe it; you may even scoff at the claim, but here’s the truth: God hears your roar of pain on the other side of your silence. He counts every tear you let escape, or refuse to let go, from the ocean of anguish inside you.
I can experience almost every aspect of church from the comfort of my own bed. I can prop up my pillow, open my laptop, and enter my very own cyber sanctuary.
No wonder that when young people grow up in a law-saturated, grace-dry church, they leave the faith by droves for all they’ve heard their whole life is a life they can never live up to.
I have found that Gandalf’s words above ring true, not only in Middle-earth, but in our world as well.
The soles of the holy feet of God traverse the soil of the holy land of promise.
I once heard a grad school professor say that America really is a polytheistic nation since so many people believe in so many different gods.
The kind of peace Jesus points to can't be achieved with words.
What about the question, “Are you a Christian?” Does this one belong to that second category, where we must explore our hearts, test our actions, focus inside ourselves to get to the right answer?
She had obviously heard about Jesus previously, maybe even from off-handed comments or even rumors. Her daughter was sick so she sought the gossiped-about Jesus as he was leaving for Tyre and Sidon.
When I’ve dipped my brush in the midnight black of lust or greed and smeared those sable sins all over the walls of my life, he’s come along with a bucket of paint and covered over that black with a white so bright it blinds the eyes.