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?
As soon as people understand what crucifixion means, the cross becomes offensive.
This is the third installment in the 1517 articles series, “What Makes a Saint?”

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We expect the world to shoot its wounded. But not even the world expects Christians to shoot their wounded.
Are people so different today? Is justification really irrelevant now? Is the preacher’s only point of contact with the life-giving Gospel a by-product of Microsoft’s word processor? I do not think so.
The law does not end sin, does not make new beings, it only makes matters worse.
Should we have more victories over our sin? Probably. But can we be honest and admit that we don't have as many as we'd like?
Our scars are a reminder that salvation is all gift.
This letter is not without controversy—not because of its content but due to questions concerning its authorship and canonicity.
It is true that no one ever grieves in the same way. We are all different in personality and chemical makeup. But what is the same, is that everyone, at some point, grieves.
When Jesus spoke about mustard-seed-sized-faith that moved mountains, He wasn't making a quantitative statement as much as a qualitative one.
Imagine what it would be like if, when people in our community thought about this congregation, the first thing that came to mind was how forgiving we are.
You are in a fight, but the victory is guaranteed because it is in the hands of the risen Chief Shepherd.
The kingdom of Christ is realized where nothing but comfort and the forgiveness of sins reign not only in words to proclaim it, which is also necessary; but also in deed.
Whatever theoretical or conceptual ideas to which we surrender in despair, the Christian faith offers something wholly different. It offers a person.