No matter how many times we hear this good news, it never stops being good news.
Our faith is precisely where Paul puts it, namely, in the blood of Christ.
Just as trick-or-treaters arrive at doorsteps as beggars, we come to the Lord’s table with nothing to offer but our sin and need for forgiveness.

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“That can’t be right”, I thought to myself as I flipped back and forth between two verses in my Bible.
If everyone would just live by the rules, the world would be a better place, wouldn’t it?
Paul describes this faith in most significant words, namely, when we cry Abba! Father! For in the spirit of fear it is not possible to cry, for we can scarcely open our mouth or mumble.
The other day a prominent Evangelical pastor tweeted, “My life’s commitment is to talk about the Bible in such a way that fake Christians feel fake — so that they can be saved.”
God’s children spent 40 years wandering in the wilderness. Imagine the hopelessness. Imagine the frustration.
I am a time traveler now. It all started this past Christmas. My son gave my husband and me DNA kits, and the instructions suggested that.
Pastors are built from the same stuff as everyone else. That’s good, and that’s bad.
I finally climbed all 109 mountains. My journey began out of desperation, fueled by anger, fear, resentment.
Netflix just recently released a series called The Umbrella Academy, another comic book series adapted for screen.
I was once asked why I thought young people were leaving the church in droves after they graduated high school.
To be human is to be preoccupied with averting pain and despair. But despair gets a bad rap.
You have heard it said that "Dead men tell no tales." “Ah, but they do tell tales!” says I.