It is death that deserves derision, not the disciple who reaches through sorrow for his Lord.
Illness is not romantic. It is not a test, a metaphor, nor a blessing in disguise.
The unity of God’s people is grounded not in lineage nor land but in the promise of the coming Christ.

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Something Reformation Christians ought to do is familiarize themselves with Roman Catholic theology.
The Reformation isn’t just a chapter in church history. It’s a reminder that the gospel remains forever good news.
The Protestant milieu was pervaded with the announcement that God and God alone is the active agent in the salvation of sinners.
We can lay down our sledgehammers of moralistic performance, which aren’t effective anyway, and we can trust that we are his and his life is ours.
He doesn’t consume us, even though that is what we deserve. Instead, Jesus comes down to us and consumes all our sin by taking it on himself.
The Antichrist offers another continual presence. It is every whisper that tempts us toward autonomy, that tells us to carry it alone, that insists suffering is meaningless.
Tetzel peddled righteousness for gold, but God gives it freely through faith in his promised Word, the person and work of Jesus Christ.
Instead of offering more details or more information, he does something even better: he promises his very presence.
The Church speaks not with the cleverness of men, but with the breath of God.
This is the first installment in the 1517 articles series, “What Makes a Saint?”
The doctrine of the Trinity is not so much the story of a “who-dunnit” as it is the story of the “who-is-it.”
Every time someone is baptized, every time bread is broken and wine poured, every time a sinner hears, “Your sins are forgiven in Christ,” Pentecost happens again.