Oliver was a friend, chaplain, professor, author, and loyal church reformer. This Gnesio-Lutheran giant will be missed.
We don’t need another brand. We need a people who remember who they are. And that’s us, Gen-X.

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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.
Dual narratives are unfolding in our lives at every moment. There’s the story we’re writing, and the one penned by the Spirit.
In Adam and in us, life has been wrapped in death. But in Jesus, God has wrapped death in life.
The pastor declares it. We receive it. The forgiveness of sins. It’s a simple thing.
But another possible translation for the Greek word we translate as ‘overcome’ and one maybe more consistent with the context is ‘comprehend.’
Instead of burning them up with unquenchable fire, He comes in solidarity, to be God with us and God for us. Jesus is baptized into our life, so that He could gift us His life.
While I was still an over-eager seminarian the professor warned me, “Mr. Riley, this is exciting stuff.
Only a god could be wise. We are seekers, lovers of divine wisdom, but it is forever beyond our grasp due to human limitation.
Jesus tears down every “but” that people try to build between us and God. He died and rose for us, and—not but—He makes Himself our Lord and Savior.
Even now we sing as we live in His gifts, and await His second Advent—His second-coming.
As a new year approaches, a mawkish paranoia sets in. Looking over our shoulders, we add up our good choices, our praises, and our reasons to celebrate.
The text says there was no room for them. And this should give us cause for a little head-scratching.