How do the words “The righteous shall live by his faith” go from a context of hope in hopelessness to the cornerstone declaration of the chief doctrine of the Christian faith?
As soon as people understand what crucifixion means, the cross becomes offensive.
This is the third installment in the 1517 articles series, “What Makes a Saint?”

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Every time someone is baptized, every time bread is broken and wine poured, every time a sinner hears, “Your sins are forgiven in Christ,” Pentecost happens again.
They were still praying, trusting, and hoping. Why? Because they knew who was with them and who was for them: the risen Christ.
When Jesus ascends, he does so, bearing gifts for you.
The women at the tomb were surprised by Easter. Amazed and filled with wonder at Jesus' Easter eucatastrophe. And so are we.
The church does not await a verdict; she proclaims one.
The Fourth in the fire is Jesus.
News of Kilmer's death hit me like a freight train because his Doc Holliday stirred something in me about friendship—both the earthly kind and the divine.
The Psalm now is this: as Christ suffered and then was exalted, so we are also in him.
How intentional will we be about utilizing gospel spaces that already inescapably communicate?
Devoid of the gospel of Jesus’s death and resurrection, sufferers are left to frantically run the halls of self-salvation, turning this way and that but never getting anywhere.
You cannot sever the saint from the sinner. Christians remain both simultaneously.
The gospel is best understood in terms of those two most important words: for you.