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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When we talk about love then, let us not talk about ourselves.
Heaven is as near as the Word proclaimed from the mouth of the preacher into the ear and heart of the sinner. It is as near as the bread and wine in your mouth. For, you see, Word and sacrament are where Jesus is.
We follow the example of creation and her Creator, wasting our love quite prodigally in fulfilling our callings, whether we’re thanked or spurned, applauded or ignored.
The following is an excerpt from Chad Bird’s new book, Your God Is Too Glorious: Finding God in the Most Unexpected Places (Baker Book, 2018).
Growing up in church I did not often hear the word “grace” uttered unless it was accompanied by the word “cheap” and said in a disapproving tone with a disdainful look.
Jesus lives amidst the twisted metal and smoking ruins of lives gone bad. It’s where he does his best work. Christ is the ultimate first responder.
The pastor declares it. We receive it. The forgiveness of sins. It’s a simple thing.
A heart that wants nothing that is not from God can only occur by the Holy Spirit speaking the Gospel into our hearts.
When I was a boy, I wanted to be a trashman. Little did I know that I would grow up to need a God who was a trashman.
Yes, but. It's a phrase I find myself repeating often in life. When my husband asks for forgiveness, I too often respond, "I forgive you, but…” and then continue with a list of my grievances.
God knows our need. He knows how it is to raise unruly children. He is very experienced in dealing with rebellion.
While I was still an over-eager seminarian the professor warned me, “Mr. Riley, this is exciting stuff.