Living by faith has never been about what we bring to the table. It has always been, and always will be, about what God does for us when we can’t do anything for ourselves.
The entire history of Protestantism is downstream of a goldsmith in Mainz figuring out how to cast identical pieces of lead type in less than a minute.
When we despair of ourselves, we repent of these self-justifying schemes and allow ourselves to be shaped by God, covered in Christ’s righteousness, and reborn with a new heart.

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The distinction between Christ-for-you and Christ-in-you can present a misleading dichotomy.
God is the only one who decides what we receive, when, and how it’s given to us.
God isn’t fooled by our fake piety. He would rather have us venting honestly than faking it.
Biblically speaking, we won’t find much evidence for a preordained spouse.
The Holy Spirit is not ours to hunt down; rather, we are the ones relentlessly pursued by the word of Christ.
God isn't satisfied when we turn our backs on Him. No, he takes the initiative and goes after us. In fact, he obsesses over us.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love. I loved deeply, but I was also aware of the much deeper reservoir of self-love that kept me from ever loving fully.
Contrary to what pop-psychology, social media memes, and your sweet grandmother told you, you are not fine just the way you are.
Mere confrontation in the form of, “What you’re doing is wrong—you need to change yourself,” can never solve the root of our problem.
Martin Luther is not–or, at least should not–be the object of our affection.
The real problem with the way we talk about Baptism in particular, and the sacraments at all, is that we are simply afraid of letting God’s Word get us.
These treasures show us that, no matter how well we think we know this poem, there’s always more layers to uncover.