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).
We draw near because Christ our Mediator has gone where we never could, and he has brought us with him.

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Christmas is, therefore, the beginning of Christ’s earthly ministry, even while he awaits a number of years to gather his disciples and inaugurate his preaching of the kingdom.
Christ busies Himself with accomplishing your salvation; race, age, sex, ability or even intelligence notwithstanding.
Jesus has not put on human nature like a shirt and pair of pants, easily stripped off to be a naked God again. No, from the moment of his conception onward, into the everlasting future, God is also human.
One gloomy, silent night, God stepped into our darkness. The Word had not only spoken but was now made flesh.
At Christmas, we hear the story of our salvation, but it’s not pretty.
While we do not have an answer, we do have a promise. A promise given to us by a God whose one and only Son was himself slaughtered by those terrified of losing their power.
By every conceivable category, grace shouldn't exist. It shouldn't have been bestowed. It's the card in God's trick we never saw coming.
Preach the full council of God even as it focuses on the Virgin Mary who was the virginal handmaid of the Lord and through whom Immanuel, “God with us,” happens.
Most days, we're not okay. We're not good enough, strong enough, or "Christian" enough.
Jesus isn't just "the reason for the season." He's the reason we don't have to cross off "spiritually bankrupt," "mentally compromised," and "physically vulnerable" from our Christmas list.
Despite its familiarity and frequent usage, the imagery in "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel," is often underappreciated.
God does not combat the impending armies of Satan with might and power, but with the weakness of a babe.