The gospel isn’t for the strong but people who know they aren’t.
One great thing about our post-denominational age is that it has opened up opportunities to make common cause with other Lutherans who, despite their differences and eccentricities, can agree on some of the most important things.
Pride builds identities that leave no room for grace.

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It’s time to call bull on a theology the dominates Christianity.
We want to know how God rules this world, how he is present in all things, how he exerts his control over the course of world events. We want to know why some get cancer and some don’t, why terrible things happen to the best of people, why volcanoes erupt and hurricanes strike and fires consume.
When we explain away God’s Word, we jettison the reality of our ominous diagnosis in the “Thou shall/shall nots” of the law, and with it the sweet cure in the, “This is My body/blood” of the Gospel.
We can leave all the stuff of life behind, because our great treasure God flaunts before the world on Calvary.
The Christian faith makes a bold claim: We are the world's problem, but we are not the world's solution.
We treat the Scriptures as if they’re our literary property to toy with as we please.
We are continuing our summer series on a theology of worship through the lens of language. Before moving forward, let me highlight a few points by way of review.
Being a Christian is hard because it’s easy.
The time constrained authoring of the Augustana caused great angst, for the part of Melanchthon that was never satisfied with his own literary output.
Like any language, the liturgy has syntax—a structure that provides order and intelligibly communicates meaning through all that is said.
Either one of those verses alone is scary; but both of them together are terrifying!
As the story unfolds we see Luther’s Heidelberg theses on display, even before the Fellowship leaves Rivendell.