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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When it comes to God’s word, our help only obscures his power and grace.
We already know how the war will conclude. Jesus wins.
Is there anything abiding, anything long-lasting that can inspire us to hope again?
The enemy comes with his wounding, haunting words, and I stand behind my advocate Christ the Lord. He gives me more words, better words, truer words.
God doesn’t permit me to write you off regardless of who you are or what you may have done. Nor does he allow you to dismiss me because I might not fit your image of a vessel of God’s mercy.
Justice and love are united in God, and we see this most clearly in Jesus on the cross. There, both God's hatred toward sin and compassion for the world come together.
Before the Fall the waters were one dimensional—they gave life. After the Fall, another dimension is added. The waters kill/drown and they give life. This becomes the New Testament language of Baptism.
Peter’s monumental sermon on Pentecost declares the kingdom purposes and divine saving work of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit which culminate in the new world order with Christ in charge, governing in the power of the Spirit.
The Lord, who is with us, retains authority over us. His promise calls for trust and obedience.
Our use–or disuse–of language reveals a deeper need than a bubbly carbonated soda. It highlights a gift given and a gift fallen, and it leaves us thirsting for a gift restored.
To understand the meaning of the Pentecost miracle for the life of a Christian, we must first learn to see it through the lens of the history that came before it.
God will keep his promises, but how he keeps them is often quite surprising.