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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The great lie of addiction is that suffering must be fled, must be numbed, must be drowned out by any means necessary.
You cannot sever the saint from the sinner. Christians remain both simultaneously.
In grace, God chooses to love his people.
In the liturgy, Christ is present, self-giving, and ever-addressing his people.
The liturgy ensures that the gospel is never something inward, merely a thought or sentiment of the believer.
There is no one — not now, not ever — who cannot be included in the family of God through the efficacy of Christ’s saving power.
There is a “re” involved with baptism, but unlike the Anabaptists, it’s not a “re-do,” but a “re-turn" or a “re-member.”
It's a new year, and you are still the same you: a sinner who is simultaneously perfect in every way because Christ declares it to be so.
The name of Jesus holds us fast.
The love of God is creative, always giving, always reviving.
In Scripture, laments are raw expressions of grief, but they always point to hope. What if our culture’s obsession with holiday lights is an unconscious way of crying out, “We need good news, and we need it now”?
One Christ rules over all of it. He is the constant, the root that nourishes every estate and every vocation.