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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Whatever level of sin you're rummaging around in, forgiveness and grace is yours.
Kierkegaard attempts to take us through Abraham’s mind as the patriarch prepares to sacrifice his son, his only son, his son whom he loves.
Today, people often bemoan the loss of children in the church.
Then He went to the coffin. He touched it, like a carpenter sizing up the piece of wood He plans to turn into some sort of new creation, running His hand down its side.
Just like that, the crowd dissipated. Jesus’ words pierced like a bright light through their foggy misconceptions. The Hungry mouths that touched, chewed, and swallowed a miracle, were now brimming with grumbling.
The table is full-laden; feast ye all sumptuously. The calf is fatted; let no one go hungry away.
Sometimes, I wish I was much older. Old enough to realize that my best, most influential, and productive days are behind me so that I could speak completely and openly about my life, my triumphs, and most of all, my struggles.
According to Martin Luther, it is human nature is a little like a drunkard trying to ride a horse.
The story did not end with Jesus' death and resurrection, or even with the Acts of the Apostles.
God’s Son is infinitely more than our fragile egos have flattened him out to be.
It is the strangest of morgues—people arrive dead as doornails and leave alive.
My eyes soaked in the midnight view. Stars crowded the sky.