MacArthur’s courage to speak Scripture’s truth, no matter the audience, should be commended.
This is an excerpt from Remembering Your Baptism: A Sinner Saint Devotional (1517 Publishing, 2025) by Kathy Morales, pgs 74-77.
“The Church exists to tell anyone and everyone who knocks on her door wondering what’s inside: Come and see” (pg. 58). Such reminders make The Church a worthwhile read.

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We all do it. It comes naturally to every human being. Since the Fall, every man and woman, every child, everyone imagines he can use experience and knowledge to figure out God.
True preaching arises when the Holy Spirit steeps the proclaimer in its own cycle of judgment and mercy.
Jesus says that none of our goodness is good enough to pass muster. Likewise, none of our badness is bad enough to propel us outside Jesus’ death for sin.
When I hear the word “repentance” my mind quickly goes to those old terror inducing Chick Tracts.
Prechers translate as a calling. Called by God, they are given a message, and for most of their hearers it is to one degree or another a message in a language from afar, with strange concepts, sometimes with a more familiar ring, sometimes with a strange sound.
We prefer this to be switched around. We want something to happen in us before anything happens outside of us.
Don’t say you’re beyond hope, for there is not one beyond God. Don’t say you’ve done too much evil, for there is no wrong bigger than God’s heart of forgiveness.
Too often, we equate “repent” as the final warning to stop a particular sin before God ceases to love you and sends you to hell for your evil deeds.
The only obedient son is shunned so that the disobedient one may return. Why? Because God loves sinners. He doesn’t leave them alone.
The church is a home for the family of God. It’s not a mall, a café, a coffee shop, or Amazon. It’s where we usually don’t get what we want, but what we need.
When those who are serving joyfully and willingly are instead encouraged to complain that they are carrying the load for the rest of the body, all hope is lost.
Writer’s Block, however, entertains no such fantasies. It goes straight for my ego’s jugular and pounds home the fact that I’m not good enough.