What Israel’s story makes painfully obvious is that following the Lord is a lifelong lesson in “I believe, but help my unbelief” (Mark 9:24).
Faith holds on to the truth of who Jesus is revealed to be, despite our sometimes incongruent experience with God.
This is an excerpt from the first chapter of A Reasoned Defense of the Faith by Adam Francisco (1517 Publishing, 2026), pgs 1-3.

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In Memory of My Friend, James Arne Nestingen
When the church is a political actor, the gospel doesn’t have the final word.
It all starts with God; and it all ends with God. He is the alpha and omega of giving and generosity.
We ache in eager anticipation as we see Christ in action and as we take in the snapshots of his life, death, and resurrection.
You are the friend in low places. It’s only from this place that you are free to look outside yourself for the remedy to the issues that plague you and humanity.
You are a child of God. You’re blameless, holy, perfect, and righteous. Don’t feel that way? Too bad. God is greater than your heart.
We don’t start with behavior and work toward Christ. We start with Christ and everything works out from there.
Every incendiary move of God’s Spirit is accompanied by a group of penitent people rediscovering the power and preeminence of God’s Word.
The phrase “works of the law” has an antithesis when it comes to righteousness—faith. What keeping the Law could not do, the gift of faith does.
We need to hear the gospel because it is good news that is not from you, or about you, or because of you.
Stoicism’s opening premise fails to understand that, from its conception, the heart is a thorny bramble.
Christ is not an idea. He isn’t a concept. He isn’t a religious notion or sentiment. He isn’t a product. He is the Savior, flesh and blood.