When you remember your baptism, you're not recalling a ritual. You're standing under a current of divine action that has not ceased to flow since the moment those baptismal waters hit your skin.
“The fear of the Lord” is our heart’s awakening to and recognition of God’s outrageous goodness.
The women at the tomb were surprised by Easter. Amazed and filled with wonder at Jesus' Easter eucatastrophe. And so are we.

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Who we are buried with matters. But there is no need to go out and find a dead prophet so you can join him six feet under.
The promise here is that God is present with us in our troubles, issuing commands to save us before we ask. God does not ignore our suffering and cries.
This living Word breaks and crushes. It comes down as crushing judgment on those who reject the Son. But it promises to heal and restore all those who fall on the Son broken, contrite, and in faith.
We cannot love first. Therefore God comes, takes hold of the heart, and says: "Learn to know me."
The Word of the Lord is sure. The enemy is defeated. Salvation is waiting for you.
God is often hidden in history, even as we make it now, but He is always manifest where He has promised to be.
“Come join the murder,” the black ravens of his heart cried. “Come join it again, old friend.” And so he did. The prodigal relapsed. Re-sinned. Re-destroyed his life. Would his father welcome him home this time?
The thrill of God’s grace fades and the slow march toward the cross dulls the heart. At such times, the former life beckons. Temptations to return grow strong. Which makes Lent such an important annual exercise.
You can die now, you can let go, and because that is true, you can begin to live!
God is not a preoccupied parent, he’s an invested and interested tender loving Father. He values what perplexes us.
Luther recognized that in the penitential psalms, God gives us the words to cry out to Him in our distress, lament our sins, and confess trust in the promise of His righteousness in which alone is our sure and certain hope.
The vinedresser refused to give up on his unfruitful tree. He put himself between it and the judgment it deserved, serving as mediator and caretaker.