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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Some days, people need a touch. Not just any touch, but something that says, "I care about you, and I love you."
Looking at our dining room table most days, you might think we were running a cartoon factory out of our house. Drawings. Everywhere.
Wisdom speaks in proverbs, parables and riddles. And the simple continue to wander right past her words of life.
But that’s the way he rolls, isn't it? By misquoting, manipulating, and ripping God’s word out of context, the devil wields it as a weapon to drive us to doubt and pride.
A single, fifteen minute sermon that proclaims Christ and him crucified for you is more important than hundreds of hours of lectures by experts on revitalizing your ministry.
The preacher does not merely send out the raven. From the pulpit flies forth the dove of the Gospel.
It is the strangest of morgues—people arrive dead as doornails and leave alive.
You don’t have to wait any long stretch of time for me to find my way back to guilty. Though I am absolved of my sins–and I cling to, and believe that with all my heart–there’s something inside of me that thirsts for the darkness.
In his Gospel account, Luke challenges us to play "Where is Jesus?"
God spoke into the black depth. “Let there be light."
He finds the woman and the man in the Garden and fought back for the identity of His people.
Sometimes we try be the bad god, sometimes the good god, oftentimes a freaky hybrid of both. The result is the same: Jesus the savior just gets in our way.