This is the first in a series meant to let the Christian tradition speak for itself, the way it has carried Christians through long winters, confusion, and joy for centuries.
The crisis is not merely that people are leaving. The crisis is that we have relinquished what is uniquely Lutheran and deeply needed.
The ethos of the church’s worship is found in poor, needy, and desperate sinners finding solace and relief in the God of their salvation.

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The great lie of addiction is that suffering must be fled, must be numbed, must be drowned out by any means necessary.
God is a judge, but unlike you, God is just!
Despite the mathematical incongruity, the church confesses that Christ is one hundred percent human and one hundred percent divine.
Luther’s final thoughts were not meant to bum you out or lead you to despair.
The liturgy ensures that the gospel is never something inward, merely a thought or sentiment of the believer.
Wisdom lurks in the outer places. Rich gratitude sprouts from the impoverished and forgotten.
By the end of this prayer of wrestling, David finally has the strength to claim victory over his lying enemies.
The gospel is best understood in terms of those two most important words: for you.
It's a new year, and you are still the same you: a sinner who is simultaneously perfect in every way because Christ declares it to be so.
This article is part of Stephen Paulson’s series on the Psalms.
Longstanding tradition must be bolstered by something outside of ourselves that also lies outside of the traditions of men.
Instead of a “how-to” manual, the Bible is a “what-you-didn’t-do” story.