When we consider our own end, it will not bring us into a final wrestling match with the messenger of God, but into the embrace of the Messiah of God.
What do such callings look like? They are ordinary and everyday.
This is the third in a series meant to let the Christian tradition speak for itself, the way it has carried Christians through long winters, confusion, and joy for centuries.

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Sometimes the old story is the one we need to hear again and again.
Devoid of the gospel of Jesus’s death and resurrection, sufferers are left to frantically run the halls of self-salvation, turning this way and that but never getting anywhere.
The great lie of addiction is that suffering must be fled, must be numbed, must be drowned out by any means necessary.
To be happy is to be the object of God’s love in Christ and to love God and others with the love of Christ.
Despite the mathematical incongruity, the church confesses that Christ is one hundred percent human and one hundred percent divine.
The wrong god means love remains frail, fickle, or a fiction. The right God means love is the most reliable thing in all the world.
Wisdom lurks in the outer places. Rich gratitude sprouts from the impoverished and forgotten.
By the end of this prayer of wrestling, David finally has the strength to claim victory over his lying enemies.
Peace is ours, even when what seems like the end draws near, because we know who Christ is and we know what Christ has done, and we know that who he is and what he’s done is all for us.
Be relieved, whatever has had you anxious. He is with us and about his Father’s business, which is your salvation.
We now are the magi: we worship Christ because of who he is, but also because of what he has done for us and what he continues to do in his gift-giving to us.
This article is part of Stephen Paulson’s series on the Psalms.