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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There’s a lot of family drama from Thanksgiving through New Years.
The folly of sinful man attempting to bridge such an infinite gap to God Who is holy becomes obvious.
Over the last few weeks it’s been painful and disappointing to hear the stories of victims that have been abused and assaulted by powerful celebrities, executives, and politicians.
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.
You are made new by the eternal satisfaction for sin in Christ, by the precious treasure at God’s right hand.
Christian freedom and Christian love go together in a most wonderful way.
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.