One great thing about our post-denominational age is that it has opened up opportunities to make common cause with other Lutherans who, despite their differences and eccentricities, can agree on some of the most important things.
Pride builds identities that leave no room for grace.
We can willingly admit the fact that we're just like tax collectors and thieves.

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This blog is a part of our Advent series on the hope we find in, through and given by Christ. Each week’s installment will look at hope from a different perspective with special emphasis on corresponding passages of Scripture.
Recently, I've had to confront the idea of death. Not that death is merely an idea, but for me it kind of was. I've been fortunate enough to never have someone I knew unexpectedly pass away until a couple of weeks ago.
Luther’s theology lets the believer in Christ dwell under the cerulean sky of God’s unchanging grace.
“Whatever you do, don’t share the Gospel with me?” Those were my exact words to my slightly mystified seminary professor. As he set his coffee down, I could tell that he was holding back in an effort to allow me to process what I was thinking.
As much as the devil and doubts may assail me, God has revealed Himself to me in His Word and answered these pesky questions.
Where Jesus says, “She’s not dead, she’s sleeping,” death dies.
He is holding you in the faith, even if you imagine your faith has failed you.
When our mind betrays us, our body fails us, and our soul can’t be comforted, our Jesus now saves us.
The more I seek God on my own terms, the deeper I am gazing at my own navel.
The desire to go home—or to find the place where one truly belongs—is latent in every human being.
The devil isn’t a popular subject nowadays. The argument is made that we’ve progressed as a culture.
I visited a senior man at his home the other day. I'll refer to him as “Jim.”