This is an excerpt from the sixth chapter of Fear Not: How the Gospel Disrupts Our Deepest Anxieties by Luke Kjolhaug (1517 Publishing, 2026).
We draw near because Christ our Mediator has gone where we never could, and he has brought us with him.
The Israelite God was different from all the other gods, thus, the worship of Yahweh differed from that of all other gods.

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Overcrowding on Mount Everest betrays what our culture worships. We bow down at the altar of the impossible to be seen as the conquerors, the champions.
My past, littered about this tiny island, resurrects itself when I draw near, but it never does so alone. It is always accompanied by the Savior.
Pain is our birthright, but Jesus’ resurrection is our irrevocable end.
Everything was perfectly teed up to move the needle on the baptism metric, but I just couldn’t do it. I told her she shouldn't get baptized.
Did the suffering stop? No. It actually got worse. The commands of what exercise to do next sped up and intensified for both of us. The Guide was allowing himself to be smoked with me.
In truth, forgetting transgressions has little to do with forgiving others who wrong us.
My ego just couldn't accept that I preached the Christian and him improved and not Christ and Him crucified.
Our past, present, and future receive healing from Jesus’ wounds.
It was during one of these garbage burns, however, that I was bathed in a fresh remembrance of grace.
Shame is shameful. That may seem obvious but ponder this observation from the authors of Scenes of Shame: “Shame, indeed, covers shame itself—it is shameful to express shame.”
I’d say that one of the best depictions of God’s grace comes from a well-beloved and world-renowned children’s fantasy novel, that being C. S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.