Salvation & Redemption

Not "improved," not "forgiven while unchanged." Paul insists on something more violent: the old self is dead, and the continuity we feel with it is illusion.

The mouth and the heart are not separate jurisdictions. Paul binds them into a single movement — and we have spent two thousand years trying to pull them apart.

You cannot build a life on human effort when the architecture of your salvation is entirely structural mercy. The sequence of verbs changes everything.

Paul's argument does not stop at guilt. The same sentence that names the fall announces the grace that undoes it.

The most quoted verse in scripture, stripped of sentimentality and returned to its context — a conversation with a Pharisee about what gets judged and what gets saved.

The timing of the cross is the offense of the gospel. Not after repentance. Not after cleanup. While.

Seven hundred years before the cross, a prophet describes a man crushed in someone else's place. The question is not whether it fits Jesus. It is what kind of God writes ahead of time.

Paul puts the gospel into one sentence and calls it the load-bearing beam. Remove it and everything else collapses — including the ethics we love to major on.