Wade Johnston, Life Under the Cross: A Biography of the Reformer Matthias Flacius Illyricus, Concordia Publishing House, St. Louis: MO, 2025.
This ancient “tale of two mothers” concerns far more than theological semantics—it is the difference between a God who sends and a God who comes.
This story points us from our unlikely heroes to the even more unlikely, and joyous, good news that Jesus’ birth for us was just as unlikely and unexpected.

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Hains offers a novel yet simple contention: Luther is most catholic where he is boldest.
Whatever else may be said of Advent, it is above all devoted to making Christ known as the Lord who condescends to come as Brother to and Savior of sinners.
The mind-blowing part of this entire story, though, isn’t that only one leper came back to “give thanks,” but that the Lord Jesus healed all ten knowing full well that only one would come back.
From the beginning to the end of his letter, John really wants one thing: for us to be in Jesus.
If a key part of the Reformation was placing God’s Word back into the hands of the people in a clear, understandable way, then John of Ragusa can be called a “Prometheus” in his own right.
When the Reformers read the Bible (especially when studied in the original languages), they found a God who was gracious and merciful for the sake of Christ.
The good news is that with our God there is always more: more than we deserve, dare, ask, or expect, more than we can see, hear, feel, or think.
There is no true life and meaningful community apart from forgiveness.
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.
The reason that God’s commandments are not burdensome is that Jesus has fulfilled them.
Both now and forever, the bruised and crucified Lord nailed to a cross is our assurance of deliverance.
Every day is a Sabbath for Christians. Every day is the day the Lord has made. Every day is a day to find rest in Christ.