To be a Christian is to embrace some pretty challenging beliefs. And I’m not just talking about the nature of God, or that Jesus is both human and divine. There’s one belief that we hold that is especially difficult, but one upon which our entire faith stands or falls:

The resurrection of Jesus from the dead.

But why does the resurrection matter so much? Simply because with out the resurrection, Christianity isn’t worth believing.

Where did the belief in a resurrection come from?

The belief in a resurrection from the dead for God’s people is one that developed over time as God gradually revealed throughout the Old Testament. By the time of Jesus, it was generally accepted that, on the Day of the Lord, the dead would rise, some to everlasting life and others to everlasting judgment.

But when it came to the Messiah, the long-awaited Rescuer of God’s people, the idea that he would have to die to rescue his people was unheard of. The Messiah was a king, the Son of David, who would lead them to victory. So when the Messiah actually showed up, they didn’t recognize him. He more closely resembled the suffering servant of Isaiah 53 than a conqueror.

Jesus was a humble man about whom there was seemingly nothing special, at least as far as outward appearances were concerned. And he kept talking about how he was going to be “handed over to the Gentiles; he will be mocked, mistreated, and spat on. They will flog him severely and kill him.”

But death wouldn’t be the end. Instead, he said, “on the third day he will rise again.”

Jesus’ followers didn’t understand what he was talking about. Even the teachers of the Law, those who were supposed experts in the Scriptures, didn’t seem to get it either. But this is what happened during the Passover all those centuries ago: Jesus was arrested. He was mocked and beaten. He was crucified. And he was dead, and his tomb was sealed.

The first witnesses on the first Easter Sunday

But on the first day of the week following his death—the third day—the tomb was found empty (Matthew 28:1-10; Mark 16:1-8; Luke 24:1-12; John 20:1-9). Jesus’ body was gone.

A group of women—Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and Salome—were the first to find the tomb empty. An angel spoke to them asking, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” before issuing the command: “Go and tell his disciples.”

And tell them, they did. In fact, Mary Magdalene was likely the very first to see the risen Jesus alive in the flesh. But she wasn’t alone in seeing him. Hundreds more saw Jesus after his resurrection. Many of them were still alive when Paul wrote to the church in Corinth, roughly 30 years after the events of that day.

Doubts about the resurrection

But even so, that didn’t stop alternate explanations for the empty tomb from springing up. Perhaps Jesus’ disciples—a ragtag group of fishermen and social outcasts—had overpowered the trained guards who stood watch over the tomb. Maybe people were so overcome by grief that they had a mass hallucination—something that defies the extremely private nature of hallucinations. Or maybe Jesus wasn’t really dead, but only very badly injured.

Despite all of these alternatives stretching credulity to its breaking point, they still circulate today. But what if the best explanation is the simplest—that Jesus really did rise from the dead?

Why does the resurrection matter?

Because here’s the thing: if Jesus didn’t rise from the dead, then Christianity has nothing to offer. It is worthless, and everyone who believes the gospel is a blasphemer. And if you think I’m overstating, that’s actually what the Bible itself says in 1 Corinthians 15:14-19.

The reason Paul was so emphatic on this point is that he and the other Apostles knew that Jesus’ death was the atoning sacrifice needed to pay for our sins (1 John 4:10). And more than that, his resurrection was the proof that he actually did it: that he saves “completely those who come to God through him” because he is alive (Hebrews 7:25 NET).

So is this hard to believe? Absolutely. It’s a miracle, after all—the power of God breaking into the world in a profound way. But as you continue to explore this truth for yourself, I hope that you will see how important it is.

Because Jesus is alive, sin no longer has the last word. Because Jesus is alive, death has no sting (1 Corinthians 15:55). And because Jesus is alive, all who believe are alive in him.

This article features a companion video for my book, Faith Simplified: What We Believe and Why We Believe It. To learn more about the book, or order your copy, visit faithsimplifiedbook.com.

Read more at Aaron Armstrong.

What is God like? Everyone has an opinion about him—not just who and what he is, but thoughts about his character. But what are we basing our opinions on? Before I believed in him, my barely existing opinion was based more on pop culture and (usually negative) news stories about people claiming to follow him than on any kind of experience. So what little opinion I had wasn’t all that positive.

Maybe you’re like I was and haven’t given it much thought. Or maybe you’re someone who has had some terrible and tragic experiences that have led you to believe that he must be pretty terrible. And I get that. But I want us to all consider whether or not what we think he is like reflects what he’s shown himself to be like.

The Bible helps us describes several different attributes or characteristics of God that help us to know what he is like. He is loving, trustworthy, faithful, just, gracious and merciful, unchanging, and so much more. But there’s one in particular that, depending on who we are, either intrigues or repulses us: God’s holiness.

What God’s holiness means

But what does it mean to be holy? We’re all familiar with this word, even the ordinary way we hear is as one-half of an expletive. But we also use it as an honorific for people we see as being particularly morally praiseworthy. And we use it when we are in specific places that have a certain quality. They are set apart and distinct from the world.

And that is, in one sense, what holiness means. It is to be separate or set apart from others. That’s certainly true of God, who is unlike any other. But to call God holy isn’t just to refer to this aspect of this nature. It describes God’s moral character. To call God holy is to say that he is ethically and morally perfect. Everything he does, everything he says, and everything he is, is good and right. There is no hint of wrong motive, selfishness, conceit, or any other sinister intent.

This is important for us to try to wrap our heads around because holiness is the central attribute of God’s character. This complete moral perfection is his default mode. And every other attribute we see in Scripture—love, mercy, graciousness, justice, and trustworthiness, to name but a few—is best understood in light of it.

God’s love is holy. It is perfect, pure, and good love, reflecting his very essence, the perfect love that resides and resonates within the Trinity—Father, Son, and Spirit.

God’s faithfulness is holy. He always keeps his word. He always keeps his promises, both on a grand, cosmic scale and in the everyday, seemingly insignificant moments of our lives.

God’s trustworthiness is holy. He always and only speaks the truth. He does not lie like human beings do. And it’s not simply that he always tells the truth. It is that truth exists because God exists. God is the embodiment of truth—he is the source of all truth (John 14:6). And we can believe him, even if we don’t understand what he has said—or, more often, even when we don’t like what he has said.

God’s justice (and justness) is holy. His judgments are always right and align with his righteous standards (Psalm 119:137).

His grace and mercy are holy, unlike anything we’ve ever seen or are even capable of, as he delights in showing unmerited favor to undeserving people like you and me, and showing compassion toward us—and to every person who has ever lived.

Recognizing God for who he is

To call God holy is to recognize his absolute perfection. But to recognize his holiness also troubles people. His holiness, his perfection, reminds us that we are not. It shines a light on our failures, impurities, and sins. It forces us to realize that our self-image is entirely different than our reality. We are people of “unclean lips” as Isaiah 6 says—prone to speak, think, and act in profoundly unholy ways.

And so we are tempted to downplay or even deny it to make him easier to approach or to reject. But if God were not holy, if he were not perfect the way he is, we wouldn’t have a God we can have confidence in. At best, we might have a well-meaning, but impotent deity. At worst, we would have one who we cannot trust to do what he says he will do because he’s prone to change his mind.

But that’s not who God is. The God who rescues and forgives through faith in Jesus doesn’t change his mind. The God who gives rest to those who are weary and heavy-laden won’t suddenly throw their burdens back upon them. He isn’t going to give up on his plan to rescue the world until every last point of it is completed, and to that end, even now he is calling people out of darkness and into his marvelous light. This is the good news that lets us sleep at night.

And, as you explore and consider what the Bible says about God’s holiness and his character, I hope you will see that it is good news worth believing.

This article is based on a companion video for my book, Faith Simplified: What We Believe and Why We Believe It. To learn more about the book, or order your copy, visit faithsimplifiedbook.com.

Photo via Deposit Photos

Read more at Aaron Armstrong.

Over the last few years, some professing Christians have warned of the danger of the “sin” of empathy. Which sounds silly, at a first blush. After all, how can empathy—understanding the feelings of others, or emotional compassion—be sinful?

Well, if I’m hearing them correctly, it seems their argument is that empathy is being used by social and political progressives to pressure Christians—specifically socially and politically conservative evangelicals—to abandon their convictions and affirm what we cannot in good conscience in the name of kindness.

Which, if you’re of a more jaded and/or exhausted sort, sounds like culture war posturing. And it is. But also, there’s something else here. Hang with me for a second because there’s something more here worth discussing.

Two sources of pressure

Confessionally orthodox Christians do feel varying degrees of pressure to conform to different socially accepted views that we cannot. We can’t go where we can’t go on views of marriage, gender, and so many issues, not because of any kind of bigotry or phobia, but because our consciences are constrained by the Word of God. Because we think people are more than the identities they create for themselves.

And I do know some people who find it easier to just go along to get along. Why? Because avoiding conflict is easier.

But for many more people, it hasn’t been pressure from progressives—the schismatic left—that has caused them to change their views, or, in some cases, caused them to walk away from Christianity altogether. It’s been the schismatic right, who also break from confessional orthodoxy on views of marriage, gender, ethnicity, and so many other issues.

The schismatic right also diminishes the value of people made in God’s image. These people treat and talk about women as secondary—as less—because they are not men. They uphold power and wealth as virtues. They give cover for predators, show little concern for the vulnerable, mock and belittle their ideological opponents, advocate for ethnic “purity,” and promote the heresy of so-called Christian Nationalism. Through their twisting of Scripture, they cause others to say, “If this is what Christianity is, I’m out.”

The real sin to avoid

So what does all this have to do with empathy? Well, kind of everything. Many of those who warn against the so-called sin of empathy would align more with the schismatic right: the Dale Partridges, Joel Webbons, Mark Driscolls, Joe Rigneys, William Wolfes, and Doug Wilsons of the world. People who aren’t qualified to run a bake sale let alone be entrusted with the right handling of God’s Word.

Because of that, it’s tempting to cast aside any kind of warning about any danger, or even sin, related to empathy. But there is a danger—a sin—that we can commit when it comes to empathy, one the Bible itself warns of: Inaction. Apathy. Disillusionment.

To see wrong done and do nothing, and hear lies and remain silent. To see a need and fail to meet it.

Jesus is our example in this. Time and again, the Gospels say he was “moved with compassion” for those around him (Matthew 9:36; 14:14; 15:32; 18:27; 20:34; Mark 1:41; Mark 6:34; Luke 7:13). He saw the people around him, those who were like sheep without a shepherd, and he felt compassion. He loved them and was motivated to act, feeding, healing, and welcoming them as his friends. And Jesus expects the same of those who he calls his own (Matthew 28:20).

To “go and do likewise” (Luke 10:37).

The hard work of compassion

Empathy is not virtue signaling or performative behavior. Far from it. Virtue signaling is self-serving—it is only concerned with ensuring that we look “good” before the “right” people. It gives cheap grace to the people on our team, and condemns everyone who fails to toe the line. But to have compassion—to put empathy into action—is to consider others before ourselves (Philippians 2:3–4). It is to love them as we love ourselves. It is to put our faith to work in such a way that our walk matches our talk, if you’ll forgive the preacher cliché.

Those who feel a pressure to walk away from Christianity’s historic teaching need the same thing the whole world needs from us who refuse to move—the same thing we need. We need to keep declaring the good news of Jesus in both word and deed. We need to continue to speak truth and live in light of the truth. To see the way Jesus was “moved with compassion,” and to act.

Friends, let us go and do likewise.

Photo via Deposit Photos

Read more at Aaron Armstrong.

What motivates our ministry partnerships? Most often, we look at partnerships from the perspective of being like-minded. We have similar doctrinal convictions and practical considerations—basically, we hold to similar opinions, beliefs, and methodology. These things are important, of course. But there’s another factor as well, one that we can easily miss: Like-heartedness. This has to do with shared desires, values, and purpose—it’s focused on the why motivating what we do.

Both of these aspects matter, but it’s this latter concept that has increasingly become important to me over the years. And that’s one of the reasons I am excited to be a part of the Cross Communication Collective.

This collective is a community of speakers who believe in “an interracial, intergenerational, interdenominational Kingdom work carried by witnesses.” It is a group of denominationally and ethnically diverse men and women who may not always agree with everything one another says, but all aim to speak meaningfully and to do so with wisdom and care.

For me, that means continuing to speak on the goodness of the truths that define our faith and how to serve new adult Christians who don’t have a background in the faith. It means addressing some hot-button topics that many Christians don’t fully understand. And it means allowing my story and experiences be a starting point for taking people on a journey to come one step closer to living as the person Christ means for them to be.

If your church or ministry is looking for a speaker with thoughtful insight, approachable humor, and a deep love for God’s Word, I would love to serve you. Reach out today via the Speaking page.

Read more at Aaron Armstrong.

We are all inspired by stories and examples of courage. And we all want to be courageous.

How many of us have read how Corrie Ten Boom and her family risked their own lives to help Jewish refugees escape the Nazis and thought, If I were there, I’d do the same thing? Do we not do the same when we read Martin Luther’s famous refusal to recant of his teaching—the teaching of justification by faith—at the Diet of Worms in 1521? “Here I stand. I cannot do otherwise,” he said (maybe). Here I stand too, we think.

Surely we would have stood alongside William Wilberforce, Hannah More, and the rest of the abolitionists as they worked tirelessly to end the slave trade. We would have shared a seat with Rosa Parks. We would have worked and marched alongside John Lewis, Martin Luther King Jr. and the rest of the civil rights advocates in the 1950s and 1960s. No matter the historical event, we always see ourselves on the side of the angels. And we do it with all kinds of stories. We would have thrown the one ring into the fires of Mount Doom. We would have fought with the Rebels and not the Empire. And we even do it with the Bible, too.

We are always David but never Saul. Elijah but never Ahab. Paul the Apostle but never the Pharisee.

We all want to be heroes—to defend the cause of the righteous and to be on the side of justice. And it is easy to imagine ourselves as being heroes in the hypothetical. To have courage when we’re using our imaginations. But what about when courage is actually needed? The truth is, we don’t know until we’re in the moment.

Love that Requires Courage

We live in a moment where something essential to the Christian life requires enormous courage: loving your neighbor as yourself. This command is the heart of Christian ethics—the exact expression of our love for the Lord our God (Mark 12:30–31; Luke 10:27). Loving your neighbor holds this place of prominence—it is the second greatest commandment, inseparable from the first.

Yet, the cultural moment in which we live is more influenced by the ethics of the Marquis de Sade than of Christ, who believed the “doctrine of loving one’s neighbor is a fantasy that we owe to Christianity and not to nature.”¹ Because we live in “the real world…that is governed by strength, that is governed by force, that is governed by power,” as one federal official said, loving your neighbor, with all its compassion, charity and humility, is outdated and unrealistic at best, and dangerously naïve at worst.

Far too many professing Christians seem to agree for my comfort. So we are always looking for the limits—to find the line we don’t need to cross. To discover who is not our neighbor. We’ve been doing this since, roughly, five seconds after Moses said, “You shall love him as yourself” (Leviticus 19:34 NKJV).² An “expert in the Law” even tried to get Jesus to give him an out. (It didn’t work—see Luke 10:25–37).

Still, we keep trying. We are discipled, by pundits, politicians, and algorithms to look for a limit—to find a reason not to show compassion. We want an out. Yet, as with the expert in the law, Jesus doesn’t give us one.

Dancing Through Landmines

So why does this require courage? Because to love your neighbor as yourself, no matter who they are requires dancing through landmines. One of the most dangerous is the relationship between faith and partisan political affiliation runs for so many American Christians.

Americans are conditioned to think about social issues, and the world in which we live, in terms of left vs right, liberal vs conservative, Democrat vs Republican. And for American Christians—assuming we can even see beyond this conditioning—to fail to toe the line comes with varying degrees of risk. It involves going against the grain of public opinion within a good portion of your community—even if they would have unhesitatingly agreed with you less than a decade ago. You may be called a “liberal” (and worse) behind your back by friends. If you are a somewhat public person, you may have strangers malign and misrepresent you. A few might even declare that you’re abandoning the faith altogether. Some of us face professional retribution as well.³

That’s why so many Christians are uncomfortable—or even afraid—to speak against so much of what is happening today. To say that immigrants, regardless of status, have the right to due process and protection against unreasonable search and seizure is not spin; it is the truth. These are rights protected under the Constitution of the United States. No law can be established that supersedes these, nor can an executive order or a policy memorandum. To say that ICE agents have demonstrated a pattern of reckless endangerment should not be controversial, especially in light of all the evidence. And yet it is, especially among conservative Christians who have been told that the Republican Party is the moral choice for the last 50 years.

It’s easier to say nothing. Safer. And easier still—safer still—is to defend the narrative. Some declare that the left is running a “propaganda war” on ICE, as Josh Howerton did. Others, like Erick Erickson, Andrew Walker, and Albert Mohler, either directly or tacitly blame victims. If people would just comply, if they wouldn’t impede law enforcement, none of this would happen.

That we live in a time where it takes courage to say something that really isn’t all that courageous says something about the state of the world in which we live. And it isn’t good.

Your Heart is Working Properly

So we look at the events of January 24th, 2026: 37-year-old Alex Pretti, a US citizen who worked in Minneapolis’s VA hospital, was shot multiple times by five for more ICE agents. Trump Administration officials—and President Trump himself—immediately declared him a “domestic terrorist” intent on massacring agents, and that the agents shot him in self-defense. Their story that has been contradicted by eye witness video, as reported by the Wall Street Journal.

Pretti was allegedly carrying a handgun on his person.⁴ Video evidence from the shooting shows him holding only a cellphone, which he used to record the activities of ICE agents—an action protected under the First Amendment. It does not show that he attempted to harm any agents; instead, it shows that he came to the aid another individual an agent pushed to the ground before being pepper sprayed and restrained. Pretti appeared to in no way be a threat when agents opened fire.

But here’s the thing: You can disagree with people protesting, and where protesters are themselves instigating violence, local law enforcement should intervene. But Pretti’s death should not be not a partisan issue. It is not a matter of right and left. It is a matter of right and wrong. It’s about real life and a real person. To say that what happened to Alex Pretti was wrong does not mean you are a “leftist.”

It means your heart is working properly.

Love is Worth the Risk

It may not seem courageous to say, but it is. Showing compassion, putting another before yourself, in a world “governed by power” is dangerous. Seeking to hold the governing authorities to account is risky. Loving your neighbor as yourself, whatever you might disagree on, requires courage.

Love is a risk. But love is what we, and our neighbors, need. It is what turned the world upside down in the early days of the church. Love—the love of Christ at work in and through us—can do it again. Now is not the time for us to shrink back. We cannot let fear stifle us, for the Lord is with us wherever we go (Joshua 1:9).

It takes courage to love—but love is worth the risk.

Photo by Marek Studzinski on Unsplash

1. Marquis de Sade, as quoted in Neil Schaeffer, The Marquis de Sade: A Life (Harvard University Press, 2000), 436.
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2. Contextually, “him” refers to the “stranger,” or “sojourner”—what we would call an immigrant today. Jesus’ application of this teaching extends it to, effectively, all people. ︎
3. This is a common concern for individuals working for denominationally-affiliated entities. ︎
4. As was his right in an open carry state and as protected by the Second Amendment ︎

Read more at Aaron Armstrong.

We’re three weeks into 2026 and for many people the world over, it’s been an exhausting 2000 years. Each day seems to bring new levels of chaos:

The United States attacked Venezuela and arrested its president. ICE agents in Minneapolis shot and killed a woman, tear-gassed a baby, and wrongfully detained an American citizen after entering his home without a warrant. Anti-ICE protesters disrupted the worship gathering at a St. Paul church when it was revealed that one of its pastors is, allegedly, an acting ICE official, further fueling anxiety and anger.

The Department of Justice continuing to fail in its responsibility to release the Epstein Files. The Department of Homeland Security’s social media accounts post content that, allegedly, echoes White Supremacist rhetoric. And President Trump has “joked” about cancelling elections, declared that the United States must annex Greenland—either for national security reasons, for natural resources, or, as he himself told the Prime Minister of Norway, because he’s angry about not receiving the Nobel Peace Price—and further alienated the nation’s largest trade partners.

And, gang, it’s only been three weeks, and I’m barely scratching the surface.

Living in Abnormal Times

We do not live in normal times, something I’m sure we can all agree upon, no matter our partisan affiliations. And in that spirit, before I go further, let me be clear: this article is not about the President. This is about the exhaustion that has come with the first year of his second term. More than that, it’s about the ever-widening division between Americans in general, and within the church.

Every single event I mentioned above is divisive. Some will see certain events as good things for the nation. Others will see them as dangerous. Some will attempt to justify one side’s actions while vilifying the other. And here’s the thing: with many of these issues, the most exhausting thing is that, with every new event, we’re being pulled farther apart.

Two Things Can Be True at Once

When it comes to several of these events, it’s possible to believe that two things can be true at once. For example, to believe that it is important to enforce the nation’s immigration laws is entirely reasonable, and correct. It is also entirely right to insist that those laws be enforced justly and with respect to the dignity of all human beings, and with regard to their rights that are protected under the US Constitution. To believe that houses of worship should be protected from intrusion by federal agents seeking to detain worshipers, and that they should be protected from protesters seeking to disrupt a worship gathering is reasonable, and even correct. It’s entirely reasonable to believe that a nation has the right to protect its national security while also believing it is wrong to attempt to annex a sovereign nation.

We don’t have to choose. And the fact that, so often, we think we do only proves the point. We’re on a dark path, separated by partisanship and algorithms, where the far fringes of either side of the political spectrum are increasingly becoming their norms. A path that not only has national and global implications, but also threatens our souls. And we have an obligation as Christians to resist. To reject the simplistic either/or fallacies that are based in politics instead of morality. To believe the truth, and tell the truth, and live in light of the truth.

The Truth Will Set You Free

And here is the truth: We can’t expect people to change their minds when they’re presented with facts. Facts, data, and statistics don’t change people’s minds. There is no source objective or unbiased enough that can convince someone on either the far right or the far left that they might not be seeing things clearly. As much as any of us would like to believe we come to our views based on facts and reasons, we don’t. We come to them by feeling.

And those who are trying to influence us know this. So they will say whatever they need to make you feel powerless, afraid, and angry. To force you into simplistic either/ors. To make you feel hopeless.

It’s hard to hope when everything feels awful.

And I’m telling you this because we are not meant to live by lies. Lies keep us living in darkness. Lies don’t help us love our neighbors—lies make us hate them. We are meant for something better. We are meant to live by the truth. And truth is what we need, especially in this moment. Truth, like love, casts out fear. Truth frees us to love those God loves and to pursue justice on their behalf. And truth lets us say, “Vengeance is the Lord’s” (Romans 12:19).

We live in exhausting times. They’re exhausting because they are filled with chaos, and we are being pulled in so many directions, being torn apart. And we cannot ignore what is happening around us. But if we want to live faithfully in these exhausting times, we need to cling to the truth, especially the truth that God has not abandoned us. He has not left us to our own devices. He is at work, even when it might be hard to see—and at the right time, he will make all things right (Revelation 21:5).

That’s the truth we need. And it’s the truth that I hope we believe.

Photo by nikko macaspac on Unsplash

Read more at Aaron Armstrong.

There are some aspects of this year that I wouldn’t wish on anybody. I had great aspirations for what I was praying I would accomplish sustainably:

• Helping Faith Simplified get off to a strong start.
• Completing a video series connected to Faith Simplified and growing the YouTube channel.
• Speaking once a month should the Lord provide the opportunity.
• Continuing to write weekly here with other outlets.

This is not what happened. The book is doing okay, but it’s looking to be a slower burn than I’d hoped. The video series is still in progress, but not complete. (The YouTube channel, consequently, hasn’t been going bananas because I haven’t had all that much content to feed it.) My speaking schedule remained mostly open throughout the year. And rather than writing more here and elsewhere, I wound up writing less than I have since 2021.

Whenever things don’t go the way I prayed and planned, whenever I’m disappointed, my first instinct is to blame myself. Maybe I should have or if only I had thoughts come all too quickly. Which is, I think, natural. And I’m sure there are things I could have done differently, but to be honest, I’m not really sure what they would be.

But here’s the truth—when I outlined my plans for the year, I was praying that I could accomplish these things sustainably. When 2025 began, it looked like I could even accomplish most, if not all, of these things.

And then my life fell apart.

God is Enough in the Storm

I don’t want to go into too much detail because the privacy of my family members matters more than sharing the specifics publicly. But in my Advent devotional, I shared how Christmas 2023 kicked off a storm that has been raging for over a year. Despite periods of calm, we’re still in the storm. We’re making it through but it’s been a hard year on top of a hard year. Grief and healing can’t be rushed. And sometimes healing brings more pain.

So I spent most of my time just trying to keep the wheels on the proverbial bus. Making what positive memories I could for my kids over the spring and summer. Helping them through different issues. Cheering Emily on in her healing, starting a new first new job in 18 years, and her renewed desire to make music. Sending my eldest to college and letting her learn how to be an adult.

But something else I shared in that devotional is no less true: We are still in the storm, yes. But God is still with me—with us—in it. He has not left nor forsaken me (Joshua 1:5). He has proven himself time and again to be my “refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1 NKJV). And he keeps showing this to be true.

Despite the year not turning out the way I expected, different opportunities to serve have arisen. I’m building relationships in the church I’ve been attending for the last year and finding places to serve. And God seems to be working through that. Even if the book hasn’t been a bestseller, made it onto a touted favorite books list, or been reviewed by a larger outlet, Faith Simplified is encouraging people—helping them to see Jesus more clearly and grow in their faith. So for me, even if the storm is still raging, even though I’m walking with a noticeable limp, as I plan for the year ahead, that’s enough.

Read more at Aaron Armstrong.

The New Testament simultaneously holds up these two realities: that Jesus is a single person with two natures, one divine and one human, “without confusion, without change, without division, without separation.”¹ The man Jesus of Nazareth is inseparable from God the Word, just as the Word is inseparable from the man. Jesus did not, at some point in his life, gain divine status or power. It was not granted to him when he was baptized in the Jordan and the Holy Spirit descended and rested upon him (Matthew 3:13–17). His divine nature is eternal—it is who he has been from before the beginning of everything. There was never a time when Jesus did not exist as the Word. But at a specific moment, the eternal Word became a human being.

Which, of all the things Christians believe that seem strange to those on the outside looking in, this might be the strangest thing of all.

The Reason For the Season (and the Incarnation)

Jesus taking on human form, becoming one of us, is called the incarnation, a Latin word that means “to make flesh.” Throughout the Old Testament, there were moments when different people had encounters with a being whom they recognized as God himself. Abraham and Sarah, who entertained the Lord (Genesis 18:1–33). Jacob, who wrestled with God in the night on the way to meet his brother Esau (Genesis 32:24–29). Joshua, who met with the commander of the Lord’s armies (Joshua 5:13–15). Isaiah, who was given a vision of the Lord’s throne room and saw the Lord in his splendor (Isaiah 6:1–13).

But Jesus’ incarnation was not merely the appearance of God in human form. “The incarnation means that he who never began to be in his specific identity as Son of God, began to be what he eternally was not.”² In his incarnation, God the Son, the second person of the Trinity, actually became one of us. He took on human flesh, looking like other humans and “sharing in human nature” (Philippians 2:7). But even as he was one of us, he was different from us: he was without sin. He was unencumbered by the chains that ensnare us; the ones that, left to our own devices, we love dearly.

Why did he do this? Why would God the Son leave his glorious state to become one of us? He did it so that he might rescue us—that sin would be “condemned…in the flesh” (Romans 8:3). He humbled himself to endure humiliation on our behalf, dying on a cross, becoming “sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Corinthians 5:21 NIV). Jesus’ humiliation would be turned into exaltation because of his resurrection from the dead in his defeat of sin and death, followed by his return to his glorious state at the right hand of the Father.

Excerpted with permission from Faith Simplified by Aaron Armstrong, published by Harvest House Publishers, Eugene, Oregon, 97408. Copyright 2025, Aaron Armstrong.  www.harvesthousepublishers.com. Photo by Birmingham Museums Trust on Unsplash.

1. H. Bettenson and C. Maunder, Documents of the Christian Church, 4th ed. (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2011), 54. This statement comes from the Definition of Chalcedon, an ancient creedal statement written in response to controversies related to the two natures of Jesus. ︎
2. John Murray, Collected Writings of John Murray, vol. 2 (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1977), 132. ︎

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Once again, we have come to that time of year when book enthusiasts everywhere humblebrag about the books we enjoyed! I am, of course, no exception to this, as I’ve been sharing these sorts of round-ups for the last 15 years.

As always, my reading spans genres and mediums, so this list does not represent a single focus. Some were published before 2025. Even so, I think they’re pretty rad. Without further ado, here are my favorite books of 2025—or at least the ones that most stuck with me.

Faith and Spiritual Formation

Lest We Drift: Five Departure Dangers from the One True Gospel by Jared C. Wilson

This book cuts deep. I know many people who went off the rails as they chased platforms, were seduced by legalism, or neglected their own character flaws and harmed so many people as a result. I’ve felt the draw myself. Chances are, you have, too. And in this book, Wilson explores how the gospel-centered movement fell apart, and the legitimate dangers that continue to threaten evangelical churches today and cause us to drift, both to the left and the right. This book is not a tell-all; it is a needed wake-up call, one I pray we will heed.

Walking Through Deconstruction: How to Be a Companion in a Crisis of Faith by Ian Harber

It feels a bit odd to call this book a “favorite” because it’s not a particularly cheery read. After all, faith deconstruction is something that inevitably involves a great deal of grief, pain, and struggle, both for those experiencing it and those walking alongside them. Harber brings a calming presence to all this turmoil—a non-anxious presence as he describes it in the book—as he shares his personal experience walking through faith deconstruction and reconstruction, offers practical wisdom, and offers good reasons to remember that deconstruction isn’t the end of the story.

Disarming Leviathan: Loving Your Christian Nationalist Neighbor by Caleb E. Campbell

Another heavy but necessary read. Christians ethics can be boiled down to two inseparable commands: Love the Lord with all of your being, and love your neighbor as yourself. Campbell puts these into practice as he explores how we ought to respond to the danger Christian Nationalism represents, and more importantly, to our neighbors who may be drawn to it. He doesn’t offer simplistic diatribes, straw men, or name-calling; he speaks the truth in love and invites his readers to do likewise.

Drawn by Beauty: Awe and Wonder in the Christian Life by Matthew Z. Capps

I typically don’t include books that are more academic in nature on this list, but this book by my friend Matt Capps is one worth reading, especially if you’ve ever wondered, “So why does beauty exist at all?” It isn’t a silly question, and beauty’s existence is not trivial. It is profound and profoundly theological. Beauty offers a glimmer and glimpse of transcendence, a reminder that there is richer, deeper, and more incredible than might realize.

Current Events, History, and Pop Culture

1929: Inside the Greatest Crash in Wall Street History—and How It Shattered a Nation by Andrew Ross Sorkin

Most of us are familiar with the great crash of 1929 that contributed to the Great Depression. But many of us are unfamiliar with the people involved and all the events surrounding it. Sorkin does a masterful job of bringing these events to life, helping readers understand what really happened and why—and where dangers lie in wait in our current over-inflated market.

The Uncool: A Memoir by Cameron Crowe

Cameron Crowe is one of my favorite filmmakers. This memoir explores his adventures as a teenage rock music journalist, his mission to get an interview with Gregg Allman, and his transition toward screenwriting and filmmaking in his early 20s. But most of all, this book is a love letter to his late mother. It’s hard not to feel feelings reading this book.

Steve Martin Writes the Written Word by Steve Martin

This volume collects several essays, including some never-before-published pieces, along with Martin’s novellas, Shop Girl and The Pleasure of My Company, showcasing both his comedy chops but his dramatic storytelling. Yes, you’ll laugh. You’ll be moved. You’ll occasionally be confused. But you’ll also find great sentences, pericopes, and titles throughout. That makes this worthwhile.

Books with Pictures

The New Gods: The Falling Sky by Ram V and Evan Cagle

In the 1970s, comics legend Jack Kirby briefly joined DC Comics, where he launched his Fourth World metastory. Blending Norse mythology, biblical imagery, and more, the Fourth World told story of the battle between good and evil as represented by the world of New Genesis and Apokolips. These books weren’t the runaway success DC hoped for, and Kirby was soon back at Marvel, his story left unfinished. In the years since, the characters and concepts have become mainstays, with frequent attempts to reboot and reinvent them. Ram V and Evan Cagle are the latest creators to take the reins, telling a story rooted in the current events of the DC Universe where Darkseid has died but new dangers are on the horizon as a child on earth with tremendous power may bring about the end of existence. This book is gorgeous, inventive, and well worth your time.

Absolute Batman: The Zoo by Scott Snyder and Nick Dragotta

Back in 2011, DC Comics rebooted their entire line and started from scratch. Dubbed “The New 52,” the results were, shall we say, mixed, with some characters receiving only minor tweaks and others being radically reinvented. The line has largely reverted in the years since. In 2024, DC decided to take another stab at reinventing their core characters—not by starting from scratch, but through the fallout of a storyline that saw Darkseid die and a new alternate universe come into existence alongside the existing DCU. Absolute Batman is the first of a new line set in this universe, and introduces us to a new and different Bruce Wayne—a Batman without the money, the mansion, and the army of allies, is still ready to take his war on crime to the criminals of Gotham City.

Gotham Central by Ed Brubaker, Greg Rucka, and Michael Lark

Imagine “Law & Order” or “The Wire” set in Gotham City, and you’ll have a sense of what to expect with this book. Brubaker and Rucka are two of my favorite writers from this period, who masterfully blend a gritty realness with the inherently fantastical (and sometimes goofy) realm of superheroes. A high point from the early- to mid-2000s era of DC Comics, this book doesn’t just focus on the role of the police in a world filled with superheroes and supervillains. It explores the lives of those who swore to serve and protect the citizens of one of comics’ darkest cities.

My favorites from previous years

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You are not alone.

I get it—you don’t like talking about a loved one deconstructing because, well, all kinds of reasons. Perhaps you’re not entirely sure what the word means. Maybe you’re trying to respect this person’s privacy. (A noble thing, to be sure.) Maybe—more likely—it’s because it hurts.

You have all these shoulds and self-condemnation running through your mind: I should have prayed more; I was too rigid and didn’t encourage asking questions; I was a bad witness to the people I love; I should have seen the signs, … And perhaps that’s true. But perhaps not. You’re carrying the weight of so many questions, and not just the ones your loved one is asking. Of fear, grief, frustration, anger, pain. Of wanting to know why.

Why this person you care so much about? Why is he or she struggling? You don’t know. And that person may not know either. (This is the problem with people, after all: They’re people, and they have a whole interior world and set of experiences that we can’t know.)

Whether or not you realize it, you are walking wounded. Seeing a loved one struggle with doubts or seemingly walk away hurts. Inevitably, whether intentional or not, your loved one—this person who is hurting—will hurt you too. It happens. when any of us are wounded, what are we most tempted to do? Withdraw. To pull away from the one who hurt us, and also from our community. To hide our pain from our friends. To act like everything is fine.

Let me let you in on a secret: It’s not fine. You are not okay. But it is okay to admit that.

The burden you carry is not for you to carry alone. You need others to help shoulder the load. To join you in prayer for your loved one—and to pray for you too. People who will listen to your fears and struggles and to speak hope into your life. Who will help you fix your eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith (Hebrews 12:2).

I can’t promise you it’s going to turn out the way you want. I can’t promise the person you love will find his or her way back to Jesus. There are no shortcuts or quick fixes. (And anyone who says differently is selling you something.) But I can tell you this: You are walking wounded, but you are not alone. The Lord knows. Your friends know too. Let them help you carry the load.

Photo by Marek Studzinski on Unsplash

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