The writer of Hebrews describes a high priest who has been tempted in every way we have. And then, on the strength of that, issues an invitation most people never fully take up.

Paul is writing to Timothy who is exhausted, facing opposition and false teaching. And the thing he points him to isn't a strategy. It's the scriptures Timothy has known since childhood. And what he says about them changes everything.

Paul spends the first half of 1 Corinthians 15 showing exactly what would collapse if the resurrection weren't true. And then he turns with one of the great buts of the New Testament.

Paul doesn't say that grace has been announced or described. He says it has appeared. That one word changes everything about what grace actually is.

James opens his letter with something that sounds almost offensive. Consider it a great joy whenever you experience various trials. And then he gives the reason. And the reason changes everything.

Jesus makes one of the most clarifying claims of his ministry on the last night before the cross. You can do nothing without me. Nothing. That sounds like bad news. It isn't.

David is looking at the night sky. The moon and the stars. And the question the sky produces in him is not one of insignificance. It is one of astonishment.

Peter is writing to people who have never seen Jesus. He himself walked with him, ate with him, saw the resurrection. But the people he is writing to have only heard. And yet he says this about them.

Joseph's brothers are terrified. Their father has died, and they're certain Joseph has just been waiting for this moment for revenge. What Joseph says back to them contains one of the most theologically significant sentences in all of Scripture.

Elijah has just watched God defeat the prophets of Baal with fire falling from heaven. Now he's exhausted, afraid, and hiding in a cave. And what happens next is one of the most theologically important scenes in the Old Testament.