When you remember your baptism, you're not recalling a ritual. You're standing under a current of divine action that has not ceased to flow since the moment those baptismal waters hit your skin.
“The fear of the Lord” is our heart’s awakening to and recognition of God’s outrageous goodness.
The women at the tomb were surprised by Easter. Amazed and filled with wonder at Jesus' Easter eucatastrophe. And so are we.

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Love is to be the interpreter of law. Where there is no love, these things are meaningless, and law begins to do harm.
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 God whom I met without a preacher is neither revealing nor hiding—but now, with a preacher, he has become my hiding place!
Only through Christ and his work are our sins forgiven, and our consciences set free and made glad.
The gift of new life through His death and resurrection, creates Christ’s children, all of whom are being sent with beautiful feet and beautiful tongue and lips to serve as the Lord’s hitmen and midwives.
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.
We already know how the war will conclude. Jesus wins.
Is there anything abiding, anything long-lasting that can inspire us to hope again?
The gospel does not proclaim the results of our practical reasoning about things we experience, but the horror of God crucified for our sins and at our hands.
Since Jesus has done everything we need for salvation, we can focus our works and efforts on serving our neighbor.
As the storm waves of life crash into us, threatening to pull us down into the undertow of sin, Jesus comes and stands between us and the furious tides.