We believe in a Savior who raises the dead: this is why the church is the one place on earth that can speak plainly about abortion without collapsing into despair.
When we consider our own end, it will not bring us into a final wrestling match with the messenger of God, but into the embrace of the Messiah of God.
What do such callings look like? They are ordinary and everyday.

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“Why do you seek the living One among the dead?” the angel asked the two women. The time for Jesus to die has passed.
That man you see on the tree—he is the re-Genesis of the world. He has come to remake us alive and free and beautiful on the Friday of his crucifixion.
The first person who attempted to stop people from talking about Jesus was not a tyrant, a secular government, or a bully religious mob.
Thankfully, our heavenly Father sent a Champion into the game to take our place. What we failed to do, He accomplished.
He is the God who makes His glory visible in lowliness and servitude. He is the God who is so poor that He must borrow a donkey to ride into Jerusalem.
If you want to find God, he’s hiding in plain sight. Christ is in the very things that we would never select as a vessel befitting divinity.
I was walking through a mall recently, and all the spring decorations and colors were starting to appear. It was refreshing to see the fresh colors and a change of scenery as I strolled through the mall.
The Lord has a special place in his heart for those whom the world forgets. For the anonymous. For the rejected.
God isn’t interested in your sins. He isn’t interested in keeping score, making sure that you keep at least one more good work than bad in your ledger.
God isn’t interested in your sins. He isn’t interested in keeping score, making sure that you keep at least one more good work than bad in your ledger.
The following conversation occurred between one of 1517's readers/listeners and Dr. Rosenbladt via email in February of 2016.
We spend the first nine months of our lives in utter darkness. There are no tiny fluorescent bulbs beaming from the ceiling of the womb, no fetal flashlights, not even a pinprick of illumination.