One might say that the first statement of the Reformation was that a saint never stops repenting.
Wisdom and strength require bootstrap-pulling and the placing of noses to grindstones.
“If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36).

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Christians have long enjoyed an absurd love affair with white-washing biblical saints.
A father dies and leaves an inheritance to his two children, Jane and Grace. The family member handling the estate gives them each a letter containing the cheques for their inheritance.
It has been three years since Allyson and I honeymooned in New Orleans. We had a great time eating our way through the French Quarter, learning to drive in a city of only ways, and forgetting that real life existed for only a few days.
We’re all familiar with the “outrage” in our culture about the trend in youth sports to award “participation trophies.”
Never has the law fallen so hard on me as in motherhood. Never before was I more aware that my best wasn’t good enough.
In the tiny Bible-belt town where I grew up, tragedy brought people together.
Life is certainly unfair. But in Christ, at least in part, we rejoice at such a notion. Grace, that great descriptor of God’s devotion, is a word that only finds its purpose, only exists at all, because it exists as a response to guilt.
I, like you probably, have an uncontrollable aversion to any food product that is past its expiration date.
Our complaints about God's grace always sound the same: "It was good to see him in church with his son this morning.
We too believe that we can be just like God, perhaps even by helping God to be a God in our image.
I don’t know if you’re like me or not, but ideas can kick around in my head in a big jumble for awhile and then, all of a sudden, something random makes all of the pieces come together.
Nothing is easier than making grace unamazing. Just do what comes naturally.