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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My ego just couldn't accept that I preached the Christian and him improved and not Christ and Him crucified.
All God's fatherly goodness and mercy is concrete and real, born of a virgin, crucified for our trespasses, raised for our justification.
“I love you” is great, as long as whatever commitment I may or may not be intimating is mutually beneficial and causes the least amount of emotional strain to me.
We can’t all afford to travel the world, but the more we read from outside our own context, the bigger we see the world.
Sometimes, the bible bores me. Sometimes, I take scripture, grace, and Jesus lightly.
Original sin produces violent fruit.
Three of the most profound truths embedded in the fabric of the universe are that blood has a voice, blood cries out to God, and blood is heard by heaven.
Our righteousness and the righteousness of our neighbor have nothing to do with what we eat or do not eat.
The following is an excerpt from “Crucifying Religion” written by Donavon Riley (1517 Publishing, 2019).
When the church has gone astray, it has been the responsible (not slavish) approach to history that has helped correct the course.
Our past, present, and future receive healing from Jesus’ wounds.
It was during one of these garbage burns, however, that I was bathed in a fresh remembrance of grace.