Confession isn’t a detour in the liturgy. It’s the doorway.
American religion did not become optional because the gospel failed. It became optional because religion slowly redefined itself around usefulness.
The Passover wasn’t just Israel’s story; it’s ours.

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While reading Matthew chapter 2 where the story of the Three Kings, Wise Men, or Magi is found, I was captivated by the part King Herod played in the story. Herod, who had befriended Mark Anthony and Octavius, had been given the rule of Palestine and was crowned King of the Jews.
But I remember that that’s how it ended. Words. Wine. Blood. A sudden halt to the conversation.
Behold the seemingly foolish ways of our wise God. He bids us embrace what appears impossible: that blood alone is our defense, that blood alone saves us from destruction, that the blood of a lamb is more than enough.
We shouldn’t be surprised when the worldviews of the sub-creators (or their characters) show up in movies, television, books, theater, music, and other works of art.
We are like the spoiled children of kings who spit in the face of paupers on the street. We have been given so much, yet we treasure so little.
Although I believe my Catholic friends say more of Mary than can be biblically justified, I also believe that many of my Protestant friends say less of Mary than the Bible demands.
Dan reminded me—in his words, in his patient suffering, through his unwavering faith in Christ, by his confidence in his baptism—that Jesus Christ does not abandon his own. No matter where they are, no matter what they’re going through, He is there.
There has only been one baptism in the history of the world: the baptism of Jesus. “One Lord, one faith, one baptism.”
What if, while we were admitting all these serious infractions of the divine law, our pastor simply yawned?
We are a sinning church with a preaching problem.
What makes this story remarkable is that this man, along with others hanged that day, was among the most hated men in human history. He was guilty of atrocities so horrific only words forged in hell could adequately describe them.
The guys Jesus chose to be His disciples have always fascinated me. The first two who were called into His posse were Andrew and John, friends who were just following a freak in the wilderness who was dressed in camel hair while eating locusts and honey.