I posted a dare on Substack the other day.
If you are a believer, I said, go to a brick and mortar church, get your pastor alone, and ask him one question. What is the gospel? Then stop talking. Do not help him. Do not finish his sentence when he pauses. Let the man answer.
I told everyone what I expected them to hear. I also told them I hoped I was wrong, and I want that on the record up front, because I meant it. There are faithful men standing up this weekend who will hand you a passage and a date and tell you to come back so the two of you can work through it together. If yours is one of them, you have something rare, and you should go tell him so.
I posted it as a prompt. Small enough for a Note, sharp enough to make a man stop and check something he had never once thought to check.
Then it kept working on me.
Because a dare is a good test, and a test has a limit. It can tell you that something is off. It cannot tell you what is off, or when it went off, or who moved it, or what the thing looked like before anybody moved it. That takes longer than a Note, and it is what I actually wanted to say.
So this is the long version.
Some of you raised a hand in a room with the lights down. Some of you walked an aisle while everyone sang the fourth verse again. Some of you were handed it before you could read, in a language you did not yet speak, by people who loved you. However it came, it came from somebody. And almost none of us have ever gone back and asked the person still handing it out what he thinks he is handing.
The Answer I Predicted
Here is what I said most of you would hear. It goes on the table in full, in its own words, because everything after this is an examination of this one paragraph.
And some of you can skip it. You have heard it a thousand times, at camps and crusades and funerals and the end of a hundred Sunday mornings, and there is a fair chance you can say it along with me without looking. Notice that before you skim past it. Being able to recite something you have never once examined is not a sign that you know it well. It is the thing this whole essay is about.
God created us to be in a perfect relationship with Him, but our choices and our sin broke that connection. We couldn't climb our way back to Him through good deeds or trying harder. But God, in His incredible love, did for us what we could never do for ourselves. He sent His Son to live the perfect life we couldn't live, and to take our place on the cross, carrying the full weight and punishment of our mistakes. Three days later He rose from the dead, breaking the power of death forever. The invitation is open to everyone. If you turn from your old way of living and place your trust in Him, you are completely forgiven, adopted into God's family, and given eternal life. It is not about what you can do. It is entirely about what He has already done.
I checked my own guess before I posted it. Not against a denominational statement of faith, and not against a seminary syllabus. I typed the question into Google the way any of us would at eleven o'clock at night, and read what came back.
It came back with this paragraph. Not close to it. It.
Sit with that, because it is bigger than my guess being right. The frame is not one man's thin Sunday. It is the ambient answer. It is what you get when you aggregate the entire English-speaking body of Christian teaching and ask it to summarize itself in one breath. My prediction was never a clever read on your particular pastor. It was a prediction about the water all of us are swimming in, and the water answered on cue.
That does not make it false because a search engine said it. Nothing is false for that reason. What it establishes is saturation. When the default, the search result, the tract, the youth camp, and the man at the front all say the same thing in the same order, the odds of anyone in the building stopping to check it drop to roughly nothing. Water is not something you notice. It is something you are in.
I have written before that your pastor is a gear in a machine, and that the machine was not built by God. I stand on every line of it. But a charge from me is still a charge from me, and you have no good reason to take a stranger's word about a man whose table you have eaten at. That is exactly why I posted a dare instead of an argument. I wanted you to go hear it with your own ears.
What follows is the part that would not fit in a Note. Not simply that the answer is thin, but where it came from, what it replaced, what it costs a good man to keep saying it, and what was standing in its place before any of us got here.
It Is Polished With Truth
Read that summary again, and notice what it is not.
It is not a lie. Nearly every sentence is true. God did make us for Himself. Sin did rupture something. We cannot climb back on our own. He did send His Son. He did rise on the third day, and death did break. If you handed that paragraph to me line by line and asked me to strike the false statements, I would hand it back to you almost untouched.
That is exactly why it survives. And it is why a sincere man can preach it for thirty years without ever once telling a lie.
Brother, hear me. True sentences, arranged a certain way, are not automatically the message. You can build a thing entirely out of true bricks and still have built the wrong house. I have argued the two competing gospels at length in He Lived It for You, Not Instead of You, and I am not going to re-run that argument here. Here I want you to go hear which one you were given.
Because there is a way to check, and it does not require me.
Look up the word yourself. The Hebrew is besorah, and there are three ways it gets misread in English-speaking churches. Hold all three against the paragraph you were handed.
The first misreading treats the besorah as the plan of salvation, the four spiritual laws, the transaction by which an individual gets right with God. That is a post-Reformation revivalist frame, and it shrinks the announcement down to your personal justification. Now look at the summary. Read it start to finish and find the King. Find the throne. Find the kingdom. Find Israel. There is one person in that paragraph with anything at stake, and it is you.
The second misreading sets gospel against law, good news against Torah, as though the announcement arrived to replace the instruction. That is a Lutheran antithesis and the text does not know it. The summary states it outright: it is not about what you can do; it is entirely about what He has already done. Read Yeshayahu and the besorah is precisely the announcement that YHWH reigns and His covenant order is restored. The Torah is the constitution of the kingdom the herald is announcing. It is not the thing you were failing at.
The third misreading makes the good news mostly about where you go when you die. That is Greek, not Hebrew, and it points the whole story away from the earth. The summary lands on given eternal life, and most people in that room will hear a destination. Yeshayahu is announcing the opposite direction of travel: "when YHWH returns to Zion", Yeshayahu, Isaiah 52:8. He is coming here.
Three misreadings. All three are in the paragraph, line by line. That is not a coincidence and it is not a bad paraphrase of the gospel. It is a faithful paraphrase of three imported frameworks, sitting where the gospel is supposed to be.
You were not gullible. You were handed an arrangement.
The Word That Never Appears
Now do the simplest test there is. Go back through that summary and look for one word.
Covenant.
It is not there. No brit. No Israel. No Sinai. No promise made to a named people and kept. No King taking a throne. The most consequential category in the entire Tanakh, the word the whole book is organized around, does not appear once in the paragraph that claims to summarize the whole book.
Here is what is missing:
Behold, days are coming, declares YHWH, when I will cut a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah. Not like the covenant I cut with their fathers in the day I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt, which covenant of Mine they broke, though I was a husband to them. But this is the covenant I will cut with the house of Israel after those days: I will put My Torah within them, and on their heart I will write it, and I will be their God and they shall be My people.
Yirmeyahu, Jeremiah 31:31-33
I walked that passage through in Written on the Heart, and I would rather you go read the passage itself than read me on it. That is the point of this piece. Open it tonight.
And understand that something has to stand where that went. A story needs a frame. Pull the covenant out and the frame has to come from somewhere, so watch what moves into the empty room. Debt. Payment. Wrath satisfied. Books balanced. A courtroom with a judge, a defendant, and a substitute in the dock.
That frame did not defeat the covenant in an argument. It was never in an argument with it. It is the shape the hole left. Take the covenant away and the cross still has to mean something, so it gets explained with whatever categories are lying around, and in the Latin West what was lying around was the law court and the ledger. I will trace where those came from further down. What matters here is the order of events, because everyone has it backwards. The covenant went missing first. The transaction moved in afterward, to fill a room that was already empty.
The Biggest Agreement of Your Life
Go back one more time to the last sentence of that summary. If you turn from your old way of living and place your trust in Him.
Look at what is being asked of you there. That is not a request that you agree with a proposition. That is a demand for the whole self, made once, understood by everyone in the room to be the hinge on which the rest of your life turns. In Hebrew that has a shape and a name. It is karat brit, the cutting of a covenant: a party binds himself, and from that moment he belongs to another.
Millions of people have answered that question. For most of them it is the single largest agreement they will ever make. Larger than the mortgage. Larger, in their own understanding of it, than the marriage.
And they were never told what they were agreeing to.
Your yes was honest. I am not questioning it and I am not qualified to. What was described to you when you gave it had the covenant taken out of it, and that is an entirely different charge. A man can mean every word of a vow and still have been told the wrong marriage.
The Verse That Puts the Middleman Out of Work
Now read the next verse, the one that almost never gets quoted with the others.
And no longer shall each one teach his neighbor and each his brother, saying, Know YHWH, for they shall all know Me, from the least of them to the greatest.
Yirmeyahu, Jeremiah 31:34
Stay on that sentence. The defining feature of the new covenant, named by the prophet who promised it, is that the professional explainer is finished. Not corrected. Not improved. Finished. No longer shall each one teach his neighbor. And then, so nobody can restrict it to the educated: לְמִקְטַנָּם וְעַד־גְּדוֹלָם, from the least of them to the greatest. The one with no training knows Him as surely as the one with all of it.
This is not a marginal text. It is quoted in full in Hebrews 8, the longest single stretch of Tanakh anywhere in the Brit Chadashah. Nobody can tell you it is obscure. It is simply never allowed to mean what it says.
There is one move left for getting around it, and you should know it before somebody uses it on you. That verse is about the age to come. Of course we still have teachers now.
Then look at what that requires, because the two clauses are in the same sentence.
I will put My Torah within them, and on their heart I will write it. Every pulpit in America preaches that one as present tense. It is on the sanctuary wall. It is in the songs. Nobody defers verse 33 to the millennium.
And no longer shall each one teach his neighbor. That one, somehow, is moved to later.
There is no seam in the text between them. No change of tense, no change of subject, no and afterward. The division is not in Yirmeyahu. It was put there afterward, and it falls in a convenient place. One clause is claimed because claiming it costs nothing. The next is deferred because claiming it would cost the office.
And the writer of Hebrews did not read it that way. He quotes the whole passage and then says the first covenant is becoming obsolete and growing old, present tense, already underway. Yeshua did not read it that way either. He did not say this cup will one day be the new covenant. He said this is. That night. In the room. In their hands.
Somebody will also tell you that Ephesians 4 settles it, since God gave teachers to the assembly. He did. Read what He gave them for: for the equipping of the holy ones for the work of service. The equipping is aimed at the saints doing the work, not at the saints staying dependent on the man doing the equipping. Equipping has a direction, and the direction is out.
And now hold the two answers next to each other.
The summary your pastor gave you leaves you dependent. Everything in it happened to you, was done for you, and must be explained to you. There is no instruction in it you could act on tomorrow without him, and no way for you to check any of it without him. It requires a man at the front.
Yirmeyahu 31 puts the instruction inside you and then explicitly retires the man at the front.
One of those answers needs a gatekeeper. The other one fires him.
That is why the second answer is rare, and it is not because pastors are wicked. I traced the pattern in God Said Direct. Man Built Systems., and it is an old one: HaShem offers the thing directly, we build something to stand in the middle of it, and then we defend what we built. Why a good man in particular keeps the quieter reading is a harder question, and I am coming back to it.
There is a Greek word for the man in the middle, and it is worth knowing how sparingly Scripture spends it. Mesites, built on mesos, middle: the one who stands in the space between two parties. It appears five times in the Brit Chadashah. Every one of them is Yeshua or Moshe at Sinai. Not one describes a continuing human office. And the covenant the mesites of Hebrews 8 mediates is Yirmeyahu 31, quoted in full two verses later, in which no man teaches his neighbor any longer.
Yeshua (Jesus) said it in His own words too. "Neither be called instructors, for One is your Instructor, the Messiah", Matthew 23:10. The word is kathegetes, the one who leads you by the hand because you cannot get there yourself. He forbade the title outright, and then we built a profession out of it.
And the positive form of all of it was already there at Sinai, before any of the machinery existed. מַמְלֶכֶת כֹּהֲנִים, mamlechet kohanim, a kingdom of priests, Shemot, Exodus 19:6. Not a priesthood serving a nation. A nation that is the priesthood.
Yeshua Cited It Himself
If you want to know which answer He would have given, He told us, on the last night, with the cup in His hand.
He did not say your debt is settled. He said the word. This cup is the new covenant in My blood. He reached back and picked up Yirmeyahu 31 by name and said, this, tonight, is that.
And when He opened His public ministry He opened it as a herald. "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand. Turn, and trust in the good news", Mark 1:14-15. Read that with Yeshayahu in your ear and you can hear what He is standing in: "How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who announces peace, who says to Zion, Your God reigns", Yeshayahu, Isaiah 52:7. The man in that verse is the mevasser, built from the same root as besorah, so that Hebrew makes the runner out of the news he carries. He is not explaining a mechanism. He is announcing that the King has taken His throne and is coming home. The response He asks for, teshuvah, is not a decision procedure. It is turning around to face a King who is already reigning.
Now notice where that verse sits. Six lines below it begins the Servant passage of Isaiah 53, the one you have heard preached your whole life as a courtroom transaction. Same prophet. Same breath. Same scroll, with nothing between them. You have been taught chapter 53 since you were a child and almost certainly never once been shown verse 7, where the same man tells you what the good news actually is. They were never meant to be read apart, and pulling them apart is how the herald's announcement became a ledger entry.
And If You Were Taught Reformed, You Did Not Agree at All
I said earlier that your yes was honest. It was, and I meant it. But there is a harder version of that, and it applies to a great many of you.
I did not come to this from the outside, and I am not settling anybody's family argument. I studied Reformed theology because people I love went into it headfirst and I had to be able to follow them where they went. I sat in Reformed churches to hear how it is actually taught rather than how its critics say it is taught. What follows is not a system I read about.
If you were raised Reformed, the system you were handed says the faith was genuinely your act, and also that the ability to perform it was given only to the elect and could not be resisted. They will tell you that you chose freely and did what you most wanted to do, and as a description of the mechanism that is fair. So ask the next thing, because it is the only question here that matters. Could the wanting have gone the other way?
Their own answer is no. The elect infallibly come.
Now put that against the verse this whole essay stands on. Yirmeyahu says of the first covenant, אֲשֶׁר־הֵמָּה הֵפֵרוּ אֶת־בְּרִיתִי, asher hemah heferu et beriti, "which covenant of Mine they broke." The sentence assumes a party capable of breaking it. And the same verse says וְאָנֹכִי בָּעַלְתִּי בָם, "though I was a husband to them," which puts the entire matter in the one covenant form nobody needs explained to them. A marriage requires two who each bind themselves, and either of whom can betray it.
A party who cannot fail to comply is not a party. He is an outcome.
So here is the fork, and I am not going to resolve it for you.
If the frame you were taught is true, then the biggest agreement of your life was not an agreement. You did not bind yourself to anything. You watched the announcement of a verdict entered before you were born, and the man who called you down front knew you had no standing to answer him.
Or you really did answer. Your yes was a real party's real yes, spoken by a man who could have walked out of that building instead. In which case the frame that told you otherwise is wrong.
Both of those cannot be true. Go check both halves. You do not need my permission and you do not need my help.
There is more to say here than this piece can hold. The confessions state their own case carefully, there is a serious answer a trained man will give you about why the new covenant cannot be broken at all, and it has an answer of its own sitting two chapters past the one everybody quotes. I am putting all of it in its own piece rather than turning this one into that one.
And do not let anyone hand you the other ditch either. The answer to any of this is not that you earned it.
Nobody in Egypt earned the exodus. HaShem heard, He remembered the covenant, He came down, and He brought them out. Only afterward, at the mountain, already rescued and already His, does Israel hear the terms and answer: נַעֲשֶׂה וְנִשְׁמָע, na'aseh v'nishma, we will do and we will hear, Shemot, Exodus 24:7. The doing follows the deliverance. It has never once bought it.
That is the covenant grammar of the entire Tanakh. He initiates, always. The response is real, always. Grace-initiated has never meant party-removed.
How a Faithful Man Preaches This for Thirty Years
I want to take the accusation off your pastor now, because it does not belong on him and putting it there will make you stupid about this.
He did not invent the frame he handed you. He received it, in seminary, from men who received it, and the chain is long and documented. You can walk it yourself.
It runs from Ignatius and Cyprian through Constantine's payroll, and it hardens into law at the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215, where canon 21 required every believer to confess to his own priest once a year on pain of exclusion and denial of Christian burial. That is the year mediation stopped being a custom and became a rule with a penalty attached. Anselm had already supplied the accounting, and Calvin would finish the architecture.
I am walking that whole chain separately, because it needs more room than a paragraph and because it is not the part I need you to see today. Today only one link matters, and it is the last one.
And then, at the very end of that chain, the part almost nobody knows.
The altar call is not apostolic. Nobody in Acts walks an aisle. It comes from Charles Finney and the anxious seat, in America, in the 1830s, and it runs through Moody and Billy Sunday and the Graham crusades until it reaches its final compressed form in the Four Spiritual Laws in 1965. The question millions of people treated as the hinge of their existence is a nineteenth-century revival technique, younger than most county courthouses.
And Finney was arguing against the Reformed when he built it. He rejected imputation and he rejected the Reformed doctrine of original sin, precisely because he believed the sinner had the native ability to decide. Which means a Reformed congregation running an altar call is operating a method its own confession denies. That is not my clever framing. It is two documents that do not agree, and you can have both of them open on your kitchen table in ten minutes.
So why does a good man keep the muted reading?
Because of what it would cost him, and I do not mean his salary. He sits in a seat that promises to mediate what only HaShem can give, and no man alive can deliver on that promise. The gap is real, and it was there before he got there. What closes it, for a sincere man, is a posture: I carry what cannot be carried. He is the one who bears it for you. That posture is genuinely felt and it is frequently earned, and it is also exactly what makes questioning the arrangement feel like assaulting a good man's suffering.
And there is the quiet power in it. Suffering is the one kind of authority that cannot be argued with. A man who visibly carries what others cannot has a claim on them that no argument reaches, and he never has to say it out loud. It is the counterfeit of service, and it is nearly impossible to tell from the real thing, because the man doing it is not pretending. The difference shows up in one place only. Real service works itself out of the job. This kind binds you to the man doing it.
The posture comes first. The reading follows it. He never experiences himself as choosing to leave 31:34 alone. It simply never comes up preached at full strength, because a man cannot stand in that seat and announce that the seat is unnecessary.
That is the thing I have come to call institutional martyrdom, and I mean both halves of it. Every institution requires a standing sacrifice to stay alive. This one does not ask for money, and it does not ask for the man. It asks for a text. Laid down quietly, once a generation, by people who love God and have no idea they are doing it.
And it is not one verse.
Look at what you have actually been taught. You have heard the cross explained a hundred ways: the payment, the debt, the wrath, the exchange, the substitution, the transaction. Now ask yourself when you last sat under a series on the new covenant. Not the phrase said over the cup on the first Sunday of the month. The thing itself. Yirmeyahu 31, all four verses, what it promises, to whom, and what it makes unnecessary.
Most of you never have.
I never have. I have been in church for forty years, and I have never once heard Yirmeyahu 31 preached from a pulpit. Not a series on it. Not a sermon on it. Not once. And I did not grow up at the edges of this. I grew up around relatives who are as sold out to what they believe as anyone I have ever met, and what I heard in those rooms, every time, was the same thing I heard everywhere else. Believe and you are saved, and you get to go to heaven. That was the whole of it.
Forty years. One verse that would have changed the shape of everything, sitting in the middle of a chapter nobody opened.
That is why the new covenant does not get talked about. It is not obscure, it is not difficult, and it is not disputed by anybody. It is simply the promise that ends the arrangement, and the arrangement is the thing doing the preaching.
It Was Never an Altar Call
So what is the invitation, if it is not the one you answered?
Go back to the herald on the ridge. He is not signing anybody up. He is announcing that the King has taken His throne, and the response he asks for has a Hebrew word underneath it that English has flattened into almost nothing.
The word is shuv. To turn. To go back the way you came.
Every prophet in the Tanakh uses it, and they all use it the same way. "Return, O Israel, unto YHWH your God", Hoshea, Hosea 14:1. Not come. Not decide. Not walk forward and pray this prayer after me. Return.
And a man cannot return to a place he has never been.
That is the whole thing, and it is why the covenant had to go before the altar call could work. Shuv presupposes belonging. It is spoken to a people who are already His, who wandered off, and who are being called home by a husband who never filed the papers. Take the covenant out and the word has nothing left to stand on. There is nowhere to return to. So the invitation has to become something else: a transaction you enter, a decision you make, a status you acquire, a first arrival instead of a homecoming.
Now look one more time at what He put in verse 32. Though I was a husband to them. That is not a contract being offered to strangers. That is a man standing in the doorway of a house that is still his, talking about a wife who left.
An altar call asks you to begin something. Teshuvah asks you to come back.
One of those you can do once, at seventeen, in a room with the lights down, and never think about again. The other is a direction you walk for the rest of your life, and you can be walking it this afternoon whether or not you ever raised your hand.
That is also why so many of you cannot find the moment. You went looking for the memory of the night you got saved and came up with nothing solid, and somebody told you that was a bad sign. It is not a bad sign. You were handed the wrong category.
Ask me for mine and I cannot give you a night either. What I can give you is the point where I started reading it for what it is, with no man standing in between, going after the Hebrew underneath it and getting as close to the original spine as I could manage. That was not an hour. That was a turn, and I have been walking it ever since.
Nobody can point to the hour he started coming home.
Ask It Like a Son
If you have not asked yet, the dare still stands. It has no expiration on it. But ask him well, because how you ask decides what you learn.
Ask it the way you would ask a rabbi, not the way you would ask a witness. If you walk in already knowing the verdict you will not be asking a question, you will be reading a sentence, and he will hear the difference immediately and give you the answer a cornered man gives. You will learn nothing and you will have wounded somebody for nothing.
Do not open with the objection. Do not bring notes. Do not say I have been reading some things. Ask him the question a son asks a father he respects, which is the same question a student asks a rabbi he intends to keep studying under. What is the gospel? Then be quiet long enough to be uncomfortable.
If he sends you to a passage and tells you to come back so you can work it through together, thank God, and take him up on it. Go read it and go back. You have a teacher who intends to work himself out of a job, and that is the rarest thing in this whole business.
If you get the paragraph at the top of this piece, you now know something you did not know before you asked. Do not blow up your life that afternoon. Do not stand up in the members' meeting. That is not courage, it is relief, and it will cost you people you love for nothing.
Do the small thing instead. This week, one evening, open Yirmeyahu 31 and read all four verses, 31 through 34, not three. Read them out loud. Ask your wife what she hears in verse 34. That is the assignment. It takes eleven minutes and it will do more than any argument you could win.
And if you are the man who is going to be asked, I know you are reading this, because you always do. I have not written a word here that requires you to be a bad man. The assignment is yours as well, and it costs less than you are afraid it does. Yirmeyahu 31 is not a threat to your calling. You were given to equip the saints for the work of service, and the work is theirs. Hand them the passage on Sunday and tell them to come back with what they found. That is not the end of your usefulness. It is the beginning of the only kind that outlives you.
You Do Not Need Me Either
If you finish this piece and your conclusion is that your pastor cannot be trusted but I can, then I have done to you precisely what I just spent two thousand words accusing him of. I will have taken the key out of one man's pocket and put it in mine, and you will have traded one middleman for another one with a better argument. That is how every one of these movements starts, including the ones I criticize.
They shall all know Me, from the least of them to the greatest. That verse retires me too. It has to, or it is not the verse.
So do not take my reading of Jeremiah 31. Go get the passage. Read it in three English translations and notice where they differ, because where translators disagree is where something is happening. Look up brit and see how many times it shows up in the chapters around it. Read Hebrews 8 and watch the writer quote the whole thing without flinching. You will not need me for any of that, and you did not need your pastor for it either, which is the entire point the prophet was making.
I would rather you never read another thing I write and open that chapter tonight than the reverse.
If you do want it laid out whole, in one place, without me arguing with anybody, it is here. Hold that against the text the same way. It is the only standard worth anything, and it does not stop applying because the page has my name on it.
And if you raised your hand and gave your heart to the Lord, my challenge to you is not to doubt your salvation. I would not know how to ask that, and it is not mine to ask. HaShem is not confused about who is His. He did not receive you on the strength of the paragraph somebody read out that night. He received you.
My challenge is to go dig into what it actually means. That is a different thing, and it is the better thing. A man can be genuinely married and still not know what a covenant is, and learning it does not make him less married. It makes him a better husband.
Selah
Before you ask anyone else, answer it yourself. What is the gospel? Say it out loud, in your own words, with nobody listening. Which of the three misreadings is in your answer?
When you read the summary at the top of this piece, what did you feel first: recognition, or defense? Whichever came first will tell you what you are actually protecting.
If you cannot find the word covenant in the gospel you were given, what has it been replaced with, and who benefits from the replacement?
What would it cost the man who taught you to preach Yirmeyahu 31:34 at full volume this Sunday? Now ask whether that cost is a reason, or an excuse, and whether you would pay it in his place.
And if your answer to all of this is that you will look into it later: what, specifically, are you waiting to be given permission to do, and by whom?
May the shalom of our Abba guard your study and your wrestling, shalom v'shalvah.
Your brother in the Way,
Sergio
P.S. You may get tired of me preaching Yirmeyahu 31. But that is the gospel, and it has been kept hidden a long time. Not by wicked men. The adversary has never needed wicked men. He gets into the minds of good ones and gives them a reason to leave the chapter closed.
