What Israel’s story makes painfully obvious is that following the Lord is a lifelong lesson in “I believe, but help my unbelief” (Mark 9:24).
Faith holds on to the truth of who Jesus is revealed to be, despite our sometimes incongruent experience with God.
This is an excerpt from the first chapter of A Reasoned Defense of the Faith by Adam Francisco (1517 Publishing, 2026), pgs 1-3.

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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.
We are so free as Christians that we don't even have to compare ourselves to other Christians.
As I weigh briefly here the advantages and disadvantages of preaching original sin and preaching actual sin, I don’t mean to argue for one and against the other. Instead, I mean to suggest a benefit in focusing a given sermon on one or the other, and that neither type of sermon should be the only type a Christian hears.
The Father knows our needs because he knows everything. This is a comforting thought, but only if He is gracious.
Martin Luther is not–or, at least should not–be the object of our affection.
It is a strange irony, but in a world drunk on violence, it is only on the cross of violence that there is hope for peace in our world.
The gelded Gospel is shiny and attractive and compelling, and we can perform the procedure in any number of ways.
Here, we read the mystery and majesty of the incarnation of the Son of God wrapped up into a single package
Pain is our birthright, but Jesus’ resurrection is our irrevocable end.
Everything was perfectly teed up to move the needle on the baptism metric, but I just couldn’t do it. I told her she shouldn't get baptized.