The world takes notice when Christians forgive because such forgiveness seems impossible.
Even if the Shroud were proven a medieval forgery, it would only highlight the skill of its maker. The case for Christ’s resurrection rests on eyewitness testimony.
God leads us to green pastures. He comforts us with his grace in our darkest valleys.

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Like Isaiah and John, we look forward to that great and glorious day, trusting the resurrected One will return as He promised.
That's how true faith talks. It doesn't talk about itself. It says "Thank you!" to the one who gives healing and salvation.
The oddness of this moment, at the beginning of Advent, is God’s way of saying, “The reason I’m here...”
Look the judge in the eye and pin your sin on Jesus, the divine judge’s son. Jesus knows you can’t do it, so he trades places with you and pits himself against God’s righteous demands.
Trust in the midst of trouble. That is what our Lord calls us to experience today.
The church is the only place God promises to lift us out of ourselves not in order to become more like God but so that we may finally be freed from our obsession with becoming little gods.
The Reformation was yet another era of history when God’s people were faced with the question that Jesus asked his disciples: “Who do you say that I am?”
We won’t use the right words, but the Holy Spirit is interceding with and for us, as we pray.
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.
Without the sacraments, God’s grace is simply an artifact behind a glass-case in a museum. We might be able to describe and even admire it, but we never get firsthand access to it.
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.