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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In Christ, the Word become flesh, this is a concrete, real fact. It is the bedrock foundation of the Gospel.
We strive, in short, to master the art of swatting mosquitoes. And all the while, we remain blind to the fact that in pulpit after pulpit, the Gospel of Jesus Christ is as rare as Merry Christmas inside a synagogue.
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.
“Obey God and he will bless you,” says the wind and the reed is bent over and bruised throughout. “God will never stop loving you but you can disappoint him,” says the wind and the once lit candle is now a sad smoldering wick.
History was one of dad’s favorite subjects and he shared his knowledge with infectious enthusiasm.
We practice infant baptism because that is the ancient practice, following the command of Scripture.
The promise is trustworthy because God has proven Himself to be trustworthy.
We just finished celebrating the 500th Anniversary of the Protestant Reformation.
Luther accepted Augustine’s view of the church as a mixed body.
What is it to be an heir of the Reformation? It is to look outward to Christ bleeding and dying on the cross as Great Rescuer of sinners—of me.
Where Jesus speaks to us, takes ahold of us, and gives Himself to us.
God’s justification of us does not happen secretly in our spirits. God justifies you and me in His absolving Word