Just as it is necessary that Christ took on flesh for our salvation, so too, it is necessary that he should be in the supper bodily
Jesus doesn’t say, “I give you the way,” but “I am the way.”
This is an excerpt from the sixth chapter of Fear Not: How the Gospel Disrupts Our Deepest Anxieties by Luke Kjolhaug (1517 Publishing, 2026).

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Wake Up Dead Man is not ultimately a story about mystery, exposure, or even justice. It is a story about what happens when mercy speaks to death—and death listens.
Lewis once pointed out that Christianity does not begin by telling us how to behave, but by telling us what is wrong.
Christ did not merely urge humanity to be kind. He embodied perfect kindness by giving his life for those who neither earned nor expected such a gift.
The unity of God’s people is grounded not in lineage nor land but in the promise of the coming Christ.
While Thoreau’s Walden is seen as a central text of that most American of virtues—self-reliance—quiet ambition as envisioned by Tinetti is exactly the opposite: dependence on God.
Every age has its emergencies, and the church must never ignore them. Yet, our response cannot be one of panic or propaganda.
For the Christian, the iron gate of death was opened by the blood of Christ and the empty tomb.
When faith seeks understanding—when belief is grounded in revelation and open to the light of reason—truth can travel.
Curiosity, while it might kill the cat, just might be one of the most needed virtues of our time.
When a congregation is abused by its pastor, it loses more than a shepherd. It loses its threshold place; that fragile seam between earth and heaven.
Fideistic Christianity may look bold, but it is fragile.
He doesn’t consume us, even though that is what we deserve. Instead, Jesus comes down to us and consumes all our sin by taking it on himself.