Living by faith has never been about what we bring to the table. It has always been, and always will be, about what God does for us when we can’t do anything for ourselves.
The entire history of Protestantism is downstream of a goldsmith in Mainz figuring out how to cast identical pieces of lead type in less than a minute.
When we despair of ourselves, we repent of these self-justifying schemes and allow ourselves to be shaped by God, covered in Christ’s righteousness, and reborn with a new heart.

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We need to hear the gospel because it is good news that is not from you, or about you, or because of you.
Stoicism’s opening premise fails to understand that, from its conception, the heart is a thorny bramble.
When we cry to the Lord in our trouble, he will send us a preacher with words that deliver us from destruction.
“There,” the Queen said, “That’s so much better than talking, isn’t it?”
The one who embodies the dove, that is, the Holy Spirit will be mounted upon the staff of Calvary.
Only by faith in Christ are we truly awake.
Being the baptized just may be the last, great resistance.
Good, we tend to think, is the absence of evil. But this reversal of the formula can only have disastrous consequences.
Our comfort in this seemingly endless age of crisis after crisis is the inexhaustible hope of Jesus’s reversal.
Faith is like a horse with blinders because it only beholds God’s promise. It is obsessed with what God has already said.
You will not be disappointed in this Champion of the Incarnation.
Finding the balance between indifferentism and obsessiveness has never been easy, and it’s especially difficult in our environment.