Each course gives you a clear sequence, primary sources, and meaningful work. Start where your questions are; move at your own pace.
Learn to trust Christ in what you face, including what you cannot control.
Begin with the questions Jesus asked. Read one passage, use its context, compare plausible interpretations, and form a text-grounded claim of your own.
Work through the central questions of Christian dogmatics. Read across traditions, reconstruct the argument, and form a theological judgment of your own.
Read the whole Gospel of John with a guide at your side: plain language, honest debates, every required reading free, and space to say what you actually think.
Walk through the Creed, the sacraments, the moral life, and prayer, with Scripture to read first and questions to carry after every lesson.
These are the disciplines behind every course on this page, and the bar anything added here has to clear. Courses differ in depth — an advanced course asks for assessed writing, a guided introduction does not — so each publishes its own figures below, and its own page states exactly what it does. Read to the end: the last section is what we do not claim.
A course says what your work should demonstrate before you begin, and every part of it is mapped to those outcomes. Where a course marks work, each criterion names the outcome it measures. Nothing is assigned because it is traditional to assign it.
You read Scripture and the writers themselves rather than a paraphrase of what they are supposed to have said. Every assigned citation carries a reading guide written for that course: why the text is there, what to hold in mind before, during, and after, and where the passage actually sits.
An access label is a promise. A copyrighted work is never labelled public domain, a link never points at a different edition than the one cited, and anything that needs a library says so before you start rather than after. An honest library label beats a convenient link.
Where Christians disagree, a course reconstructs the competing positions in language their strongest advocates would recognize, with the strength of each and the question it leaves open. Where a course does take a side, that is labelled as the course’s judgment and the dissenting tradition still gets its best statement.
Representation is counted in required slots, not sentiments — a tradition present only in optional further reading is not represented. And a required reading has to be engaged by the teaching, or it is demoted rather than left there to cost you an hour.
No lesson is a template with the blanks filled in. Each carries its own objectives, exposition, source analysis, and practice, and repeated substantive prose is caught by test rather than trusted to review.
A course that marks your writing publishes its criteria before you write, not alongside the mark. Feedback is formative and measured against those criteria, only accepted work counts toward completion, and self-reported progress is never presented as a credential.
Understanding decays without retrieval. Where a course runs long enough for that to bite, it carries prompts that pull earlier material back — each with an answer, an explanation of why it is the answer, and a note of what earlier work it revisits.
A published range comes from a component model of the real work — reading, practice, drafting, revision — not from a guess that sounds encouraging. Guided instruction is usually the smallest part of it. The published number is held to the model by test, so it cannot quietly shrink.
Contested terms are defined so more than one tradition can accept the definition, with the dispute named inside it. What every tradition confesses comes before any one school supplies the shape of a unit. And where a course teaches one tradition, it says so on the label rather than presenting it as Christianity as such.
Every figure is read out of the course itself when this page is built, so nothing here can drift from the course it describes. A course counts what it actually has; a shorter course simply lists less.
A course that overstates itself is not world class, whatever else it does well. These are the limits, stated here rather than buried in a footer.
These courses carry no academic credit, licensure, ordination, endorsement, or degree. A completion receipt records that you completed the work and nothing more. Self-reported progress is not completion; only assessed, accepted work counts.
Where a course’s lessons were written with AI assistance at the course owner’s direction, that course’s page says so, and the structural audit that followed is not a substitute for human review. For the advanced theology course, cross-tradition theologian review, disability-led accessibility review, and a five-learner usability pilot are recorded as open release gates. Feason does not describe any of them as complete until named evidence exists.
Our tests establish structure and behavior: that lessons exist, that criteria map to outcomes, that citations carry guides, that required voices sit in required slots. They cannot sign off a theological judgment, the fairness of a contested position, or the experience of a disabled learner.
Where a course uses AI review, it is formative and works only from what you submit. It does not open your edition to check a quotation, so the accuracy of a quotation or a locator remains yours, and citation checkboxes alone are never counted as evidence.
