Do it again, God,” rings the psalmist’s appeal.
Why should we believe Jesus?
It's one thing to hope for a new reality; it's quite another to stand before it, no matter how wonderful.

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This is an excerpt from Ditching the Checklist: Assurance of Salvation for Evangelicals (and Other Sinners) by Mark Mattes (1517 Publishing, 2025), pgs. 5-7.
In the liturgy, Christ is present, self-giving, and ever-addressing his people.
Christians don’t need a bucket list. We’ve got the whole bucket: the Word fulfilled, life fulfilled, and life in full.
Luther’s famous treatise contains great consolation for Christians struggling with grace, suffering, and hope.
The addict’s condition speaks a hard truth: that we are all beggars before God, every one of us bent toward the grave.
The liturgy ensures that the gospel is never something inward, merely a thought or sentiment of the believer.
The wrong god means love remains frail, fickle, or a fiction. The right God means love is the most reliable thing in all the world.
The story being told in the film is not Bonhoeffer’s story. It’s not the Confession Church’s story. Nor is it the story of the German resistance against Hitler. It is a completely fictional story of Hollywood.
I realized that no matter where I call "home," I won't be able to shake the feeling of homesickness.
There is no one — not now, not ever — who cannot be included in the family of God through the efficacy of Christ’s saving power.
What do we do with Katie Luther? What kind of historical character can we paint her to be?
Addiction is the warped fruit of a good tree: a sign that the heart longs for transcendence but has sought it in places too small, too finite to hold such hunger.