When a congregation is abused by its pastor, it loses more than a shepherd. It loses its threshold place; that fragile seam between earth and heaven.
We can lay down our sledgehammers of moralistic performance, which aren’t effective anyway, and we can trust that we are his and his life is ours.
Faith takes God at his word and holds his promise to be true for me because I know God would not lie to me.

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Fourteen years ago, drowning in the muck of dark despair, in the middle of a life gone terribly wrong, I wrote in my journal, "I wonder how, once this is all over, how I’ll be, how I’ll turn out…” Now I know.
Everywhere we look, there is suffering. But Jesus is not calling us to look. He is calling us to listen.
A Sermon on Psalm 130:3–6.
Grace and mercy are a powerful act of the Almighty God. God alone can grant forgiveness and restoration, salvation from the sorrow of this world.
In his death, Jesus has done the ultimate act of charity. He has given his life for all.
The tragedy of the incidental Christ I was raised with is that he was really no Savior at all.
One could reason that God might, at least, give the church a little worldly power.
While the insights in each chapter are uniquely personal to the individual writers, the overarching theme is one of the sufficiency of Christ.
Grace is God’s caring disposition toward His human creatures. And it is shown fully and purely in the work of Jesus for us.
When we — sinful, reprehensible we — become the enforcers of justice, we never bring about true justice. We either go too far or not far enough.
Today, Jesus' road to Jerusalem turns into your congregation. He calls you and your hearers to follow Him all the way home.
Christ has taken our failures and defeats and exchanges that yoke for his own.