All of my theological endeavoring will not squeeze one more ounce of grace from God.
Luke Kjolhaug
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Since the law is our mother-tongue, we naturally assume it’s the only language that exists; this ceaseless, damning voice reminding us that we are not all that we should be.
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As human beings, we usually think that mercy should have limits; that it should never exceed its confines. This attitude is rooted deeply in the human heart.
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Salvation is not simply transactional; it is fundamentally relational. Not anemic, but full-blooded. Not disembodied, but bodied.
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The child was sleeping deep within the manger, sod, & hay. His tiny cries raised a heavn’ly din, on this most sacred day.
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When your identity is tied up in the judgment of others—you're in deep trouble. Because, however well-curated and photo-shopped your life may be, sooner or later someone is going to look at you, they'll swipe, and they'll move on.
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The Gospel is gift, pure and simple. It is backwards. It is upside down. It is foolish. And as long as people are sinners, it is as relevant as ever.
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We don’t just need someone to bear our guilt and die for us. We also need someone to defeat all of the forces of sin and darkness and anxiety and depression that overwhelm us.
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There is no comfort in naked sovereignty. A bully may be said to be “sovereign” over the elementary school playground, but that doesn’t bring much comfort nor does it promise security. We need something more than a God who is in control.
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The true miracle of springtime isn't simply its beauty, but in the way it foreshadows the sprigs of life that spring forth when God creates faith from the fallow ground of dead sinners.
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In our search for absolution, human beings leave no stone unturned. We’re desperate to have our uneasy consciences soothed.
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No matter how fast we run—the little Pharisee on our shoulder is still standing there, arms crossed, shaking his head, and telling us we could have done more. We could have done better.