Wisdom and strength require bootstrap-pulling and the placing of noses to grindstones.
“If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36).
How do the words “The righteous shall live by his faith” go from a context of hope in hopelessness to the cornerstone declaration of the chief doctrine of the Christian faith?

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We have seen a vision better than an angel. We have seen God on the cross. A God who is willing to suffer for us.
Our sadness is never inconvenient or unimportant to Jesus.
In our attempts to flee from our fears and escape death, we will become imprisoned by them.
The following is an excerpt from Adam Fransisco’s chapter in “Who Am I?” edited by Scott Ashmon (1517 Publishing, 2020).
When we are hurt, we cry out to God. But sometimes when the hurt gets really intense, our lament turns to complaint. Not only is this normal, but almost every lament in scripture contains a complaint.
Comfort is not a platitude; it is a promise. A promise from our God who left his place of glory and died a sinner’s death for poor sinners.
Love for our neighbor can be taxing. We may even decide it’s not worth the cost. But in this moment I found a blessed reminder of how different God's love is, and how our value rests in Christ alone.
The following is an excerpt from Ken Sundet Jones’ chapter in “Who Am I?” written by Scott Ashmon (1517 Publishing, 2020).
God is not an impassive monster who is unfamiliar with our horrendous ailments. Rather, in Christ, God familiarizes himself with our suffering and becomes particularly attuned to the fragility of fallen humanity.
Only through Christ and his work are our sins forgiven, and our consciences set free and made glad.
That is why we dance on graves. That is why we smile in the midst of sorrowful tears. That is why we retell old stories and share humorous memories.
Fear returns frequently in worry, but along with it comes a reminder to turn back to the Gospel. To turn anyone who will tell me the good news again.