The Church speaks not with the cleverness of men, but with the breath of God.
I always imagined dying a faithful death for Christ would mean burning at the stake. Now, I suspect it will mean dying in my bed of natural causes.
How many times in our lifetime must we sigh, floundering through this world with our sins, sorrows, struggles, frustrations, fears, and foes?

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Who should we baptize and when? How old does the person have to be? What if we get it wrong? Will something terrible happen to us?
The God who calls us to love our neighbor as ourselves will seem hopelessly out of touch with your insulated life of self-sufficiency.
There is something odd about the definition of God as a being that than which nothing greater can be conceived.
We have now reached a point where many believe so strongly in individualism that nothing else matters.
But when God's Word of Law and Gospel are tuned up, when they're properly distinguished, then Jesus' words rain down on us like thunderbolts.
A Christian is justified—saved from sin, death, and hell—by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone.
A single, fifteen minute sermon that proclaims Christ and him crucified for you is more important than hundreds of hours of lectures by experts on revitalizing your ministry.
The table is full-laden; feast ye all sumptuously. The calf is fatted; let no one go hungry away.
Sometimes, I wish I was much older. Old enough to realize that my best, most influential, and productive days are behind me so that I could speak completely and openly about my life, my triumphs, and most of all, my struggles.
Last year, a friend I follow tweeted, “Calling yourself a sinner is spitting on all the work that Jesus did to make you a saint.”
The story did not end with Jesus' death and resurrection, or even with the Acts of the Apostles.
He barely wakes to find himself nearly dead; even so, he can’t feel a thing.