This is the first in a series of articles entitled “Getting Over Yourself for Lent.” We’ll have a new article every week of this Lenten Season.
We can’t remove our crosses or the reality of our deaths. Only Jesus can.
People everywhere, every day, feel God’s wrath—and not as merely an afterlife threat but as a present reality.

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It is true that no one ever grieves in the same way. We are all different in personality and chemical makeup. But what is the same, is that everyone, at some point, grieves.
Theology is not to simply adopt the positions and presuppositions of philosophy, nor should it reject philosophy.
As our first parents had a bond with the animals, as Noah had animals with him in the reboot of creation after the flood, so after this old creation comes to an end, we will enjoy a new creation that includes animals.
Stop and be enveloped by the unending grace of Christ and his beautiful teachings that touch every corner of life.
I had been taught and believed in a God who is love, but as I walked outside that night I did not see him. I saw the stars and I felt their indifference.
Rather than validate our selfish, self-serving choices, he justifies us by giving us new life and baptizing us into his death and resurrection.
Jesus doesn’t talk about God’s love for us; he embodies it.
Pain is our birthright, but Jesus’ resurrection is our irrevocable end.
Death can make us feel like tourists or strangers traveling across the landscape of someone else’s life.
When the church has gone astray, it has been the responsible (not slavish) approach to history that has helped correct the course.
I’d like to offer a short reflection on the theme of “worldliness” as it appears in his later work and how that’s connected to an item of his Lutheran heritage: the theology of the cross.
We’re messed up people with messed up bodies. All of us. Even Miss America gets hemorrhoids. The Fall mocks us in our own skin. We’re all walking sermons.