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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The following is an excerpt from “A Year of Grace: Collected Sermons of Advent through Pentecost” written by Bo Giertz and translated by Bror Erickson (1517 Publishing, 2019).
Indeed, the law said, “You shall love the Lord your God,” but the law cannot give me such love, nor can it take my hand to grasp on to Christ.
What then does this sequence of stories teach us? It teaches us a pertinent lesson about the Christian life.
Have you ever felt haunted by fear, shame, and guilt? Have you ever worried that Jesus couldn't love you anymore? I have.
It may seem like a radical statement, but in Christ Jesus, there’s nothing wrong with you.
Do not be afraid of seeing the depths of your depravity. Do not be offended, because the story doesn’t end there, and it’s completion is glorious.
Having the assurance that perfect righteousness has already been gifted to you is, perhaps, the leading spiritual scuffle in which every believer is entangled.
Looking back on the year, the narrative we’re fed is that we should be able to show how much we’ve grown, how much we’ve done, all the successes we’ve had, how improved we are.
Into the suffocating prison of sorrow, God sends his Breath, his Holy Spirit to help us. We may suffer, but we will not be alone.
We think that if we are good enough, brave enough, or at least if we try hard enough, we will be someone who can be both fully known and fully loved.
Should we really be surprised that it would happen this way, that the servant would suffer for our salvation and die for our forgiveness?
By every conceivable category, grace shouldn't exist. It shouldn't have been bestowed. It's the card in God's trick we never saw coming.