The word of assurance given to Moses at Sinai echoes through eternity on the lips of the Savior, untroubling troubled souls with the good news that there is one who walks the paths of life with you, and soon he’s coming to bring you to himself.
The greatest obstacle to friendship in middle age isn't that nobody wants friends. It's that everyone is waiting for someone else to go first. But here's the good news: Christ has already gone first for you. And because He has, you are free to go first for someone else.
The church's answer to Islam remains what it has always been: Christ crucified and risen for sinners.

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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.
Then He went to the coffin. He touched it, like a carpenter sizing up the piece of wood He plans to turn into some sort of new creation, running His hand down its side.
A Christian is justified—saved from sin, death, and hell—by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone.
Just like that, the crowd dissipated. Jesus’ words pierced like a bright light through their foggy misconceptions. The Hungry mouths that touched, chewed, and swallowed a miracle, were now brimming with grumbling.
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.”
When it comes to faith, God runs all the verbs. God's Spirit calls us by the Gospel. He enlightens us with His gifts.
According to Martin Luther, it is human nature is a little like a drunkard trying to ride a horse.
Among the things that perturb me about modern Christianity is our residual clinging to a sort of “Christian-karma.”
God’s Son is infinitely more than our fragile egos have flattened him out to be.
I grew up with a great deal of guilt. It still keeps me up at night. For one reason or another, I was convinced I hadn’t done enough to be loved by God.
It is the strangest of morgues—people arrive dead as doornails and leave alive.