This story is not meant for six-year-olds, but it is meant for us, though we should hardly handle it.
Despite how deep Habakkuk sank into doubt and despair, his faith was not entirely lost. He was merely taking his doubts where they belonged: to the Lord.
Decisionalism expects you to raise yourself through a choice, but Scripture says only Christ raises the dead.

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Jesus and the New Testament—good. Yahweh and the Old Testament—not really so good. So goes the popular, but largely whispered, dichotomy.
Christ’s death is sufficient for all, even Christians.
Jesus doesn’t talk about God’s love for us; he embodies it.
The simul makes several affirmations and rejections on the doctrines of sin/original sin, justification, and sanctification, to name a few.
We confuse our success and failures with God’s judgment of us.
Mere confrontation in the form of, “What you’re doing is wrong—you need to change yourself,” can never solve the root of our problem.
I don't remember a time not knowing I was a sinner. Seriously, I've always understood that Christ died for me.
Overcrowding on Mount Everest betrays what our culture worships. We bow down at the altar of the impossible to be seen as the conquerors, the champions.
My past, littered about this tiny island, resurrects itself when I draw near, but it never does so alone. It is always accompanied by the Savior.
Stories like Onoda’s offer an interesting parallel to our life in the Gospel.
Martin Luther is not–or, at least should not–be the object of our affection.
Here, we read the mystery and majesty of the incarnation of the Son of God wrapped up into a single package