Luther felt the reform of the church could not simply remain a matter of aesthetics and practice. Something much deeper needed to be rooted out.
While God can, and often does, appear to people face to face, he also often employs the use of several types of messengers.
The “further up and further in” we go, the table keeps getting bigger, the guest list keeps getting longer, and the grace keeps on flowing.

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Sometimes the only obstacle to the church accomplishing its goals is when God gets in the way. And he has an irritating habit of doing just that.
Jesus simply can’t help himself. Over and over in the Gospels we find Jesus leaving a wake of physical restoration.
Nevertheless, we believe, teach, and confess that this unlikely King advents weekly to meet with His people in the Divine Service through His Word and Sacraments.
A while back, I drove past my neighbor's house and right there in the street with the rest of the garbage were several golden trophies nearly half my height and still looking quite shiny and new.
Here’s what lurks beneath this seemingly righteous behavior: they wanted to make a name for themselves, these tower-builders.
You know that person who keeps offending you in some way? They come to you all glossy-eyed and soft-spoken, stammering to get "please forgive me" out because it's the umpteenth time they've done this?
This was one of the most haunting and soul tormenting verses in the Bible for me when I was growing up.
Getting ready for church is an exhausting exercise for a lot of people. By getting ready, I don't mean making wardrobe decisions.
But in that quest for thou shalts and thou shalt nots, you’ll miss what really matters. You’ll trample the cross while racing for the tablets of stone. From the tale of Achan's theft, you’ll rob yourself of Jesus.
Just how should we think about our good works in the Christian life of faith as we live that life before others... and before God?
“God doesn’t care about the intentions of your heart!” I said a little too loudly and emphatically.
In the tiny Texas town where I grew up, sleeping in on Sunday morning was as inconceivable as rooting for someone besides the Dallas Cowboys on Sunday afternoon.