We can bring our troubles, griefs, sorrows, and sins to Jesus, who meets us smack dab in the middle of our messy mob.
Confession isn’t a detour in the liturgy. It’s the doorway.
American religion did not become optional because the gospel failed. It became optional because religion slowly redefined itself around usefulness.

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In Advent we wait, in Christmas we rejoice over the coming of Christ in the fulfillment of the promises, and in Epiphany we celebrate the surprise, the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles.
Like Isaiah and John, we look forward to that great and glorious day, trusting the resurrected One will return as He promised.
In the Lord’s Thanksgiving Supper, we are not served turkey, green bean casserole, and cornbread. We are served Christ.
The Word of Yahweh is not a trifling thing that can be visited only when it’s convenient. It’s a book of life, for all of life, that imparts life to those who believe in it and the God of it.
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...”
“God in general” is of little use to all of us suffering the ravages of sin, the fear of death, and satanic prosecution.
Trust in the midst of trouble. That is what our Lord calls us to experience today.
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.
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.