One great thing about our post-denominational age is that it has opened up opportunities to make common cause with other Lutherans who, despite their differences and eccentricities, can agree on some of the most important things.
Pride builds identities that leave no room for grace.
We can willingly admit the fact that we're just like tax collectors and thieves.

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Love for our neighbor can be taxing. We may even decide it’s not worth the cost. But in this moment I found a blessed reminder of how different God's love is, and how our value rests in Christ alone.
The following is an excerpt from Ken Sundet Jones’ chapter in “Who Am I?” written by Scott Ashmon (1517 Publishing, 2020).
God is not an impassive monster who is unfamiliar with our horrendous ailments. Rather, in Christ, God familiarizes himself with our suffering and becomes particularly attuned to the fragility of fallen humanity.
Only through Christ and his work are our sins forgiven, and our consciences set free and made glad.
That is why we dance on graves. That is why we smile in the midst of sorrowful tears. That is why we retell old stories and share humorous memories.
Fear returns frequently in worry, but along with it comes a reminder to turn back to the Gospel. To turn anyone who will tell me the good news again.
When it comes to God’s word, our help only obscures his power and grace.
Before you object that what we need is change - not salvation - let me remind you that our shouts for change are evidence of our need for a savior.
When the old Adam hears a command, he hears a prescription. Like a coach drawing up a play so you can win the game.
We already know how the war will conclude. Jesus wins.
When the direction of preaching is dictated by the hashtag issues of the day, the pulpit becomes the perpetual servant of CNN and Fox News. The news and social media cycle, with its chameleonic alterations from this all-important issue (this week) to that next-all-important issue (next week), does not create a rhythmic dance for the church but a sort of frenzied whack-a-mole worship. Now smack your homiletical hand down on this…now that…now this…now that. We need something better.
Is there anything abiding, anything long-lasting that can inspire us to hope again?