We don’t flinch at sin. We speak Christ into it.
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.

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Cliché preaching may be symptomatic of shallow, consumerist culture, perpetuating a problem rather than the solution.
The point is that the whole lot was wicked. And so were the Galatian Christians. And so are we.
Far from being a Savior, the god of Unchristianity is a coach who whips us into moral shape, inspires us to be better people, serves as our example. The unspoken goal is to be so virtuous and free of sin that we don’t need Jesus anymore. The transaction is complete. Jesus is unemployed.
Jesus has conquered; he who has an ear let him hear. There is nothing to run from, nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to fear because the Lamb of God has done it all.
Bonhoeffer’s simple little book makes clear how privileged many of us are to enjoy the Communion of the Saints here on earth.
We all live with the knowledge of good and evil, but lack the power or ability to affect either one. We can judge good and evil but we cannot control them.
While faith forms the relationship with God and love the relationship with the neighbor, hope forms the Christian’s relationship with the future.
When we try to create meaning for our lives or transform Jesus into a mere example, the Holy Spirit comes to us, with a preacher in hand, ready to unleash a sermon like Louis Armstrong blasting out "When The Saints Go Marching In" on his trumpet.
Jesus’s followers aren’t ostriches who bury their heads in the sand. That’s not helpful or hopeful for anyone. Resting from life’s trials and troubles comes in the remembrance of the One who is with you in the middle of all of them.
When we proclaim Jesus' death we are, at the same time, preaching that this cup from which we drink is the cup of salvation for all who believe and receive it.
War is a plague, but sometimes it needs to be fought to protect from greater plagues.
In our liquid world, strung out on the meth of evil, full of poor souls fighting to stay afloat, where are you, O God? Don't you care that we are perishing?