We Were Given Appetites, Not To Consume

Lord, Please Restore To Us The Comfort Of Merit And Demerit. Show Us That There Is At Least Something We Can Do. Tell Us That At The End Of The Day There Will At Least Be One Redeeming Card Of Our Very Own. Lord, If It Is Not Too Much To Ask, Send Us To Bed With A Few Shreds Of Self-respect Upon Which We Can Congratulate Ourselves. But Whatever You Do, Do Not Preach Grace. Give Us Something To Do, Anything; But Spare Us The Indignity Of This Indiscriminate Acceptance.

The World Looks As If It Has Been Left In The Custody Of Trolls.

You Can Fold Up Spiritually, Morally, Or Intellectually And Still Be Safe. Because At The Very Worst, All You Can Be Is Dead —and For Him Who Is The Resurrection And The Life, That Just Makes You His Cup Of Tea.

Do You Seriously Envision St. Paul Or Calvin Or Luther Opening Bottles Of Welch's Grape Juice In The Sacristy Before The Service? Luther At Least Would Turn Over In His Grave.

But All The While, There Was One Thing We Most Needed Even From The Start, And Certainly Will Need From Here On Out Into The New Jerusalem: The Ability To Take Our Freedom Seriously And Act On It, To Live Not In Fear Of Mistakes But In The Knowledge That No Mistake Can Hold A Candle To The Love That Draws Us Home. My Repentance, Accordingly, Is Not So Much For My Failings But For The Two-bit Attitude Toward Them By Which I Made Them More Sovereign Than Grace. Grace - The Imperative To Hear The Music, Not Just Listen For Errors - Makes All Infirmities Occasions Of Glory.