One might say that the first statement of the Reformation was that a saint never stops repenting.
Wisdom and strength require bootstrap-pulling and the placing of noses to grindstones.
“If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36).

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God lit within these ashes the fire of a promise: whoever they touched, that person became clean.
Our relief when we're troubled can't be found at the end of all our preparations and celebrations, no matter how pious our intent.
“It’s bigger on the inside” is not only an evocative literary device, it is also a phrase heavy laden with Good News found in the true story of Christianity, especially at Christmas.
We have heard of the man born to be king. Here in Bethlehem, by divine condescension, the King—the King of kings—is born to be man.
Jesus isn't Superman. He's not from another planet. He's from Earth.
So it is with my little garden as well; dead, so it would seem. Nothing. Barren.
This time of year, Christmas time, the world isn't so much Christ-expectant as it is Christ-haunted.
Christians are Christians not because of anything that they have done but because of everything Christ has done for them.
The dying words of Jesus were not, “Make it worth it,” but “It is finished.”
No, when the Lord is ready for battle, of all creatures, he commissions Mary’s little lamb.
Israel’s priests were ordained with the blood of a sacrifice applied to their ear, their thumb, and their toe, for they were to hear God’s word, handle His holy things, and walk in His ways. But none was perfect, all were flawed.
On that night in Bethlehem so long ago, not even your mother who held you in her arms understood that you had come to turn the world upside down in a through-the-looking-glass sort of way.