Do it again, God,” rings the psalmist’s appeal.
Why should we believe Jesus?
It's one thing to hope for a new reality; it's quite another to stand before it, no matter how wonderful.

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There is a power that is stronger and mightier than the power of separation in death. And that power is the power of God’s love for you and me.
Miracles, for all their wonder and encouragement, rely on the dazzling of our senses to work. Because miracle-faith produces sensory-faith, it is of a poor quality.
Your prayers are not what make you acceptable in his sight. You have already been made acceptable through the blood of Christ.
The Gospels function like literary essays, composed with a specific thesis and purpose in mind. Each account of Jesus’s life acts as a treatise to show us something about the person and work of the Savior.
He is not ashamed to call us brothers and sisters, even as we curse and yell at him for not pleasing us with our pettish wishes.
Jesus’ miracle in this sermon, then, is a type of the compassion He has for your hearers. While they certainly have many physical needs, your hearers also (more fundamentally) need Jesus’ mercy and forgiveness.
The power of God's Word is nothing like human power. People exercise power through force and violence. God's Word manifests His power through humility, service, and self-sacrifice.
He is our gold. He is our pure garment. He is our healing. He is our sanity. He is our wholeness.
The well-known Sunday School story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego is far from a simple account of three brave and faithful Israelites. It’s a mini-story with a mega-story tucked inside it—a story that links it (backward) to Exodus and (forward) to the Gospels.
God created humanity in his image and then inhabited that image. Not just for 33 years, but for eternity thereafter.
Christ presents to us such liberty, so that we as Christians according to our faith may tolerate no other master, but only hold that we are baptized and called unto Christ, and through him have become justified and sanctified.
In the quiet of your own uptown, where your own sins bear down on you and create a troubled conscience before the world, before others, and before God, your Lord reaches across the chasm of brokenness to take your hand.