This is the third installment in the 1517 articles series, “What Makes a Saint?”
The Church speaks not with the cleverness of men, but with the breath of God.
I always imagined dying a faithful death for Christ would mean burning at the stake. Now, I suspect it will mean dying in my bed of natural causes.

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You cannot sever the saint from the sinner. Christians remain both simultaneously.
God is a judge, but unlike you, God is just!
Luther’s final thoughts were not meant to bum you out or lead you to despair.
The addict’s condition speaks a hard truth: that we are all beggars before God, every one of us bent toward the grave.
The liturgy ensures that the gospel is never something inward, merely a thought or sentiment of the believer.
The gospel is best understood in terms of those two most important words: for you.
It's a new year, and you are still the same you: a sinner who is simultaneously perfect in every way because Christ declares it to be so.
Longstanding tradition must be bolstered by something outside of ourselves that also lies outside of the traditions of men.
Instead of a “how-to” manual, the Bible is a “what-you-didn’t-do” story.
What do we learn from the widow? We learn how to be dependent upon God.
This article is part of Stephen Paulson’s series on the Psalms.
Show me a sinner, and I’ll write you a story of a God who saves them.