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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It seems that no matter where we look in this world, we never quite find what we really need.
It is worthwhile because Jesus Christ gave baptism to His disciples as a means for making disciples after He had suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified died and buried and rose again on the third day.
We are continuing our summer series on a theology of worship through the lens of language. Before moving forward, let me highlight a few points by way of review.
One of the interesting things about Paul’s writings that is not noticed enough is that Paul doesn’t really have an “application” section.
A promise was made to my older brother roughly 50 years ago. He was just an infant and had no idea that this promise was being set upon him.
Why was Jesus crucified? Not to save victims, but to save sinners.
The authority God gives to men—to you and I as baptized believers in Christ—is to forgive sins, to free them from guilt, to free them from the power of sin.
I am not one of those people who can put together a jigsaw puzzle without using the picture on the box.
The time constrained authoring of the Augustana caused great angst, for the part of Melanchthon that was never satisfied with his own literary output.
The dying words of Jesus were not, “Make it worth it,” but “It is finished.”
We all began by hearing the truth, and then speaking the truth and believing the truth. That truth came to us on the lips of another.
Like any language, the liturgy has syntax—a structure that provides order and intelligibly communicates meaning through all that is said.