Wisdom and strength require bootstrap-pulling and the placing of noses to grindstones.
“If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36).
How do the words “The righteous shall live by his faith” go from a context of hope in hopelessness to the cornerstone declaration of the chief doctrine of the Christian faith?

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In Adam and in us, life has been wrapped in death. But in Jesus, God has wrapped death in life.
At one point I was asked why we receive the Lord’s Supper during our Christmas services.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that simple boy. An orange sky warms the deserted streets with the final glow of safe light.
Christ rose from the grave so that the eternal Light of Christ would be your forever identity.
Our little congregation is part of a much larger church—the body of Christ, both here on earth as well as in heaven. And that church worships 24/7, never ceasing in its adoration of Jesus our Savior.
Growing up, I dreaded the first Sunday of each quarter. Every time during the evening service, we would have Lord’s Supper after the sermon.
We are forgiven for Christ’s sake. Losers set free to trust in God’s promises.
Death is never natural. Death is abnormal. Death is not human. Death is the enemy.
There’s something very attractive about both the cross-ladder and the cross-crutches. In fact, there’s something about both of them that the woodworker within us finds eminently more appealing than the simple cross of Jesus.
This is why a Christian must keep learning to forget himself so long as he lives.
This emphasis in Luther also applied to his understanding of the sacraments, and particularly comes out in his writings on the Lord’s Supper in his Large Catechism.
One thing that makes John different than the other three Gospels is the absence of the Lord’s Supper.