As we remember the presentation of the Augsburg Confession, we read about what the reformers confessed the church to be—or rather who she is, and who is her head. Our devotion is from Augsburg Today: This We Believe, Teach and Confess.

Let’s face it, life is a bit messier than we would like to admit. Our children spread paint all over a new couch. Our bodies age and our clothes don’t fit like they used to. Illness attacks (sometimes in the form of middle-of-the-night stomach flu). Feelings are hurt. Hearts are broken. The list could go on and on. We work tirelessly to fix this messiness, to clean it up, to patch it, and cover it. Sometimes I lose sleep thinking about solutions to problems that have not even presented themselves yet. I am a slave to the mess of this world.  Amid this brokenness, I have never received a more obvious lesson in Christ's redemptive work than an especially challenging evening with my seven-year-old.

The Gospel for today is St. Mark’s account of Jesus calming the storm. This miracle demonstrates Jesus’ divinity and power over all creation, and it points to His greatest act of rescue for mankind: bearing our sins on the cross and rising again to defeat sin, death, and Satan. Our devotional reading is from Growing in Christ: Middle School Teacher Guide (NT2).

Last week, the gas light came on in my car. It was time to fill up. That morning, I had left a bit late and had a meeting, so I was slightly annoyed when the gas was pumping slower than normal. I got about four gallons in and thought to myself, "That will get me far enough." So I took off. I had a couple of places to drive that day and had confirmation class that night as well. As I was driving home from confirmation, ding: the gas-light came on again. Running on empty, after having stopped for gas up that morning.

“The days go slowly, but the years go quickly.”

The Gospel of the day, which discusses the parable of the seed growing and the parable of the mustard seed, is our focus today. Our devotion is from Meditations on the Gospels.

Dads, have your children ever asked any of the following questions: “Why is my dad not like other dads? When I look at dad’s lifestyle, why does he live the way he lives? Why does dad live such a questionable life?”

Dear Daughters,

When I think of my dad, I think of his hands. Classic dad hands—slightly calloused, smell faintly like aftershave, usually holding some kind of barbecue utensil.

More and more as I get older, I hear my parents coming out of my mouth and I see their idiosyncrasies in my actions. When I was a child, I would have rolled my eyes at their phrases or “dorky parenty” ways. But now I have to laugh and sometimes even send a quick text to my brothers when this happens.