We live in the “already” but “not yet”. Peace is already ours but not yet. The resurrection is already ours but not yet. Justice is already ours but not yet. Until then be comforted by the fact that you are reconciled in Christ on account of his life, death, and resurrection.
Luther neither removed the Apocrypha from the Bible nor discouraged its use. Rather, he received and preserved the ancient distinction inherited from the fathers: the Apocrypha is valuable, edifying, and worthy of reading, but it is not Holy Scripture and therefore cannot serve as the foundation of Christian doctrine.
The confessors at Augsburg remind us that every generation of Christians is called to bear witness to the gospel amid the challenges and pressures of its own age. As they confessed Christ before emperors and kingdoms, so the Church continues to confess Him before the world today.

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Martin Luther is not–or, at least should not–be the object of our affection.
It is a strange irony, but in a world drunk on violence, it is only on the cross of violence that there is hope for peace in our world.
The following is an excerpt from “Let the Bird Fly” written by Wade Johnston (1517 Publishing, 2019).
Here, we read the mystery and majesty of the incarnation of the Son of God wrapped up into a single package
Pain is our birthright, but Jesus’ resurrection is our irrevocable end.
Everything was perfectly teed up to move the needle on the baptism metric, but I just couldn’t do it. I told her she shouldn't get baptized.
The following is a Question and Answer session with author and pastor Donavon Riley where we talk about his latest book, “Crucifying Religion: How Jesus is the End of Religion”.
Growth and maturity in the Spirit doesn’t look like we think it does. That’s because it’s backward.
It’s no wonder we’re so attached to images; we are one. We are human hyphens between the celestial and the terrestrial.
We are saved by God's grace, apart from our work – so why does obtaining God's wisdom require such work?
Death can make us feel like tourists or strangers traveling across the landscape of someone else’s life.