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.
We can willingly admit the fact that we're just like tax collectors and thieves.

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A life of faith is a life of wisdom, which is a life lived knowing that it is God’s authority — and his alone — that prevails as the consummate active power in the cosmos.
When we genuinely measure ourselves, we will find ourselves dreadfully lacking.
The tragedy of this parable is not the failure to serve. It is the failure to truly know your Savior.
There is life after death and, more gloriously, there is life after life after death, the resurrection of the body.
Obviously, the Day of the LORD looks frightening according to the words of Zephaniah the prophet. The question is: “For whom?”
Now more than ever, it's good to take a closer look at the Christian confession about evil, pain, and suffering.
As we pray the Lord’s Prayer, we pray to God our Father. We come to him as his children, adopted into his family. We pray to our Father who loves us perfectly.
Whoever your president is, you have a King. A King who elected you.
Because Israel has turned the eschatology of the Day of the LORD into “escapism” Amos turns that notion on its head in his prophecy.
Mindful that the pagans’ understanding of death is a finality, Paul says, “NO!” Death is not the end of humanity in God’s new world.
The parable is harsh. It judges. If you do not believe, you will not be saved. But let us pause for a moment and think about why Jesus is telling the parable.
This is an excerpt from “Unveiling Mercy: 365 Daily Devotions Based on Insights from Old Testament Hebrew” written by Chad Bird (1517 Publishing, 2020). Used with permission.