Thanksgiving, then, is not just about plenty. It is about redemption.
Why is it truly meet right and salutary that we should at all times and all places give thanks to God.
“The well that washes what it shows” captures the essence of Linebaugh’s project, which aims to give the paradigmatic law-gospel hermeneutic a colloquial and visual language.

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It was by listening closely to Dr. Rosenbladt's words and watching his quiet actions that one could learn many things about being a dad.
St. Paul talks about faith that is weak and by his description of what it looks like, I lived there; I've been the weak brother. It appears that a firm faith is that faith that trusts in the goodness of God for you based on something outside of you – not on some special, superior knowledge, but having your name known and loved by God.
We will be watching fireworks and eating traditional combinations of food and drink today, along with many other Americans. While we celebrate this wonderful day when our founding fathers came together to stand against tyranny and oppression, we are thinking about the religious freedom we have in this county.
Seeing, we do not see. Our eyes are busy deceiving us 24/7, like two liars sunk into our faces, calling black white and white black. To see God's work in our world, our eyes must retire and our ears labor overtime.
The wine of communion is a gift from God and the blood of Christ we receive at the rail an inebriant that encourages and frees us.
Which makes the question of prudence worth asking again: given the recent and strong Catholic attempts to defend a broad religious liberty, why all the implicit and explicit swipes at their potential Protestant allies?
In an essay last year over at The Public Discourse, Philadelphia Archbishop Charles J. Chaput quite rightly noted that the legacy of the sixteenth-century Catholic statesman Sir Thomas More matters greatly—and matters, as he emphasized, “right now.”
Even putting to the side More’s purposes in the writing of Utopia, and Bolt’s in composing A Man for All Seasons, certain contexts pertaining to each are revealing.
Ever experience a congregation with the word "Grace" in its name that was nonetheless ironically ungracious and legalistic? I have.
Sinner: I see. I see for the first time. It’s clear to me. You died for me and for my sin. You took my verdict. God: I did.
This past weekend I was celebrating my dear friend’s wedding the way I always celebrate: by working it out on the dance floor. I love to dance, though I am fairly certain now that dancing does not love me back.
I was full of pain and empty of speech, babbling like a baby who knows he hurts but can’t explain where or why or what he needs to assuage the anguish. Here was the sheer helplessness of being unable to communicate with God in this moment of deepest desperation.