The Christ who rescues does not wait for you to be clean. He comes to clean you. He does not need your strength. He brings his own.
When you remember your baptism, you're not recalling a ritual. You're standing under a current of divine action that has not ceased to flow since the moment those baptismal waters hit your skin.
“The fear of the Lord” is our heart’s awakening to and recognition of God’s outrageous goodness.

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On this Day Handel Begins Composing Messiah, and 5 Things We Can Learn From It
Jesus doesn’t talk about God’s love for us; he embodies it.
The simul makes several affirmations and rejections on the doctrines of sin/original sin, justification, and sanctification, to name a few.
We confuse our success and failures with God’s judgment of us.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love. I loved deeply, but I was also aware of the much deeper reservoir of self-love that kept me from ever loving fully.
Mere confrontation in the form of, “What you’re doing is wrong—you need to change yourself,” can never solve the root of our problem.
I don't remember a time not knowing I was a sinner. Seriously, I've always understood that Christ died for me.
Overcrowding on Mount Everest betrays what our culture worships. We bow down at the altar of the impossible to be seen as the conquerors, the champions.
My past, littered about this tiny island, resurrects itself when I draw near, but it never does so alone. It is always accompanied by the Savior.
Stories like Onoda’s offer an interesting parallel to our life in the Gospel.
Martin Luther is not–or, at least should not–be the object of our affection.
The following is an excerpt from “Let the Bird Fly” written by Wade Johnston (1517 Publishing, 2019).