Johnny Cox

The resurrection accounts tell us much about the posture of the angels. Matthew records one angel: "An angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone and sat on it" (Matthew 28:2). He is the one who speaks: "Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen" (Matthew 28:5–6). Mark describes a young man inside the tomb, "sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe," who startles the women with the same message: "He has risen; he is not here" (Mark 16:5–6). Luke increases the number: "two men stood by them in dazzling apparel" (Luke 24:4). Standing, sitting, one, two—critics have feasted on these apparent discrepancies for centuries, while defenders have offered harmonies of varying ingenuity.

We moved into our new apartment yesterday, though there is more to take over, but we did get the kitchen table in. We got McDonalds, brought it back and had dinner together. Even Molly took a seat. Everyone was talking and laughing and planning our next steps. Things done best over a table with Big Macs and Fish Fillets. We were all together and it was very heartwarming. Family is the most important thing on earth and nothing is more attacked, yet at the same time, more needed.

When asked whether God the Father poured out His wrath on His Son at the cross, many today answer with a confident “Yes.” This is the heart of classic penal substitutionary atonement (PSA): the Father’s justice required that the full penalty for sin be inflicted on the Son so that wrath could be satisfied and sinners justified. I disagree. I believe the bruising of the Servant’s heel (Genesis 3:15) was the work of Satan and the powers of darkness, not the Father venting punitive wrath on His beloved Son. The Father’s will, as the early church read it, was to cleanse and vindicate the Servant through suffering so that He might justify many. This is not a denial of substitution. It is a modified understanding of it—one that keeps Christ as the true guilt offering while refusing to portray the Father as the one who crushed His own Son.

Titus 1:12–13 (NASB) — 12 One of themselves, a prophet of their own, said, “Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, lazy gluttons.” 13 This testimony is true. For this cause reprove them severely that they may be sound in the faith, Were all Cretans bad? Probably not all, but the island’s culture of laziness had such a profound impact that it influenced how people perceived the entire group, even if some individual Cretans were hardworking.

This Easter, President Trump posted an AI image of himself robed in divine light, healing a sick man like Jesus. He took it down after backlash. But instead of humility, Trump and his defenders attacked Christians who were offended—mocking them as weak or disloyal.

While I don’t identify as Catholic, I’ve been observing the Church for decades, and you might find this surprising: the Roman Catholic Church can’t keep up with the demand for exorcists due to the rising number of people believed to be possessed! What was once just a haunting tale from my childhood—illustrated in "The Exorcist"—has now transformed into a concerning reality. Our community has generally dismissed the idea of modern-day possessions, believing they only occurred during Jesus' ministry. However, thinkers like Jack Cottrell argued that these phenomena persist, and witnessing the alarming growth of evil around us has led me to reconsider.

Since God said, he who blesses Israel will be blessed, the question is then, "Who is Israel?"

Thank God society is no longer pretending this debauchery is normal. For too long, our culture tried to rebrand self-destruction as freedom. What was once seen as vice became marketed as identity—an untouchable "lifestyle" no one dared question. But behind the flashing lights and catchy slogans lies a path of wreckage: drug abuse, hollow relationships, mental breakdowns, and wasted years.

In recent years, the lines between Christianity and psychology have become increasingly blurred. Sermons are filled with therapeutic language. Churches offer recovery groups modeled more on 12-step programs than on the New Testament. The Bible is mined for self-help rather than self-denial.

After 25 years of searching for the best Bible translation—and never feeling fully satisfied—I finally decided to try something different. Instead of chasing the latest edition, I went backward. Surprisingly, I’ve fallen in love with the NASB 1977. Not the 1995 revision. Not the 2020 update. The original 1977 edition.