Faith, for Peter, is not suspended in religious abstraction. It is tied to something that happened in time and space.
Baptism does not promise us chocolates or flowers, but something far greater: life in Christ.
The Promised Land invites us to laugh at how relatable it is to be exhausted and exasperated by all the people, and the egos and opinions they bring with them, that come with living.

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Just like Peter, you don’t need to do anything to earn God’s forgiveness for your soul wounds.
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.
The Antichrist offers another continual presence. It is every whisper that tempts us toward autonomy, that tells us to carry it alone, that insists suffering is meaningless.
The world takes notice when Christians forgive because such forgiveness seems impossible.
God leads us to green pastures. He comforts us with his grace in our darkest valleys.
Christian spirituality is not a flight from the world, but a deep dive into its brokenness.
Nothing good happens when you get ahead of God and take matters into your own hands.
Children are not meant to carry crowns. They are not meant to rule. The burden crushes them in slow, invisible ways.
Tetzel peddled righteousness for gold, but God gives it freely through faith in his promised Word, the person and work of Jesus Christ.
Protestants, in my view, don’t suffer from a Goldilocks problem. They have an arrogance problem.