For Luther, there is a beautiful ambiguity, a chicken-and-egg phenomenon, even a tension, in which the Church is ever being created and recreated by its gospel proclamation.
Our human dignity is founded upon the Word of God that lives in us by the power of the Holy Spirit. And that Word is dynamic and living, never static or flat.
"It reassures people to see their preacher holding a Bible,” a colleague would say. Still a slave to the manuscript, I began printing my sermons in two columns on copier pages.
As we speak after the Word’s example, often repeating what he said, we curiously understand him still to be himself speaking as well — inviting, permitting, and even uttering our speech through us.
