The heart of this devotional beats with a quiet but unshakable joy. Simpson urges us to preserve joy like a sacred ember in the soul—one that should never be smothered, no matter the winds of trial. The joy he speaks of isn’t rooted in feelings or favorable circumstances. It's the joy that flows from Christ Himself—springing eternal from union with Him.

Bob Hoekstra brings us today to one of the clearest declarations Jesus ever made about eternal life—and it might surprise some of us. He didn’t define eternal life in terms of a destination or a reward. He didn’t say it was primarily about forgiveness, heaven, or spiritual growth, though those are all included. No, He said that eternal life is knowing God the Father and Jesus Christ whom He sent.

In today’s devotional, Oswald Chambers turns our attention to one of the most quoted invitations of Jesus: “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” But Chambers digs deeper into the kind of burdens that weigh us down. He reminds us that not every burden is meant to be borne in our own strength, and not every weariness comes from obedience. Sin, guilt, and doubt are never burdens to carry—they are to be cast off entirely, not managed. And even the burdens God entrusts to us are never given to be borne alone.

This morning’s reading brings us into the quiet depth of a two-fold reckoning—one that relieves us from the tyranny of self and another that releases us into the vitality of Christ. The devotional doesn’t linger on behavior modification or the common plea for God to “make us better.” Instead, it reminds us that the finished work of the Cross is not something to be achieved—it is something to be believed.

The writer of today’s eManna entry reminds us that prayer is not merely about uttering words into the sky. It's about being the kind of person God delights to hear from—someone whose life is attuned to His presence, whose requests rise like incense and meet a listening heart. Not all prayer is heard equally. Scripture tells us there are conditions: abiding in Christ, allowing His words to saturate our hearts, walking in faith, and keeping our conscience clear of known sin.

The wall is finished—but the warfare isn’t. Nehemiah 6 reveals just how unrelenting the opposition to God’s work can be, even as the work nears completion. Sanballat, Tobiah, and Geshem—longstanding enemies of Israel—resurface with a cunning invitation that appears diplomatic but conceals a snare. Nehemiah’s wisdom and discernment shine through. Four times they beckon him to a meeting. Four times he responds with clarity: “I am doing a great work and cannot come down.”

Ezekiel 37 opens with a gripping vision—God places Ezekiel in a valley of dry bones, an image that captures the spiritual lifelessness and utter desolation of Israel in exile. These bones symbolize death that has long since settled in—dry, scattered, and beyond human repair. But this is not a vision of finality; it’s a revelation of restoration. The Lord instructs Ezekiel to prophesy not just to bones, but later to the wind, calling forth life. As Ezekiel speaks the word of the Lord, the bones rattle together, flesh covers them, and finally breath enters them. This is more than just physical resurrection—it represents spiritual revival and national restoration. The Lord is showing that Israel’s exile is not her end.

Job 39 is a poetic parade of creatures that live beyond human control and comprehension. From the birth of mountain goats to the absurdity of the ostrich, God invites Job—and us—to witness His sovereign hand at work in places we rarely observe or understand. Each creature, whether wild donkey or warhorse, ostrich or eagle, represents something untamed, strange, or fierce. And yet, God knows them all intimately. He assigns their seasons, their homes, their strengths, and even their limits.

In In Christ, E. Stanley Jones expresses the believer’s identification with Christ by writing, “I lose my personality by a voluntary identification with Him at His lowest place—the cross.” While he likely meant to emphasize full surrender and union, from the exchanged life perspective, it’s not accurate to say we lose our personality. Instead, we are restored in the deepest sense.

E. Stanley Jones takes us deep into the heart of what it means to be in Christ—not as a distant ideal, but as a lived reality. He beautifully highlights the two sides of Galatians 2:20: first, the death of the old self through identification with Christ’s crucifixion, and then the life of Christ now expressed through us. This is not poetic imagery. It’s a real transaction—my old life is no more; now Jesus is my very life.

Ray Stedman gently invites us to move past mere ritual and into the heart of what God truly desires—genuine understanding and reverence for His intentions. In this passage, Aaron made a deeply reverent decision that went beyond the letter of the law. Though he should have eaten the sin offering according to the law’s outward prescription, he abstained, recognizing that his heart was not in a place to receive it meaningfully after the tragic death of his sons.

A.B. Simpson draws attention to a subtle but dangerous spiritual behavior described in Numbers 11:1—the people of Israel “as it were” murmured. They weren’t outright defiant, but their hearts whispered complaints that echoed in the ears of the Lord. It’s a phrase that unmasks the veiled rebellion in the hearts of those who wouldn’t dare speak directly against God but insinuate distrust in Him by grumbling about life’s hardships or other people.

This devotional reminds us that the Christian life is not a striving toward spiritual riches—it is a life already enriched, because Christ Himself lives within us. Paul’s letters to the Corinthians declare a truth too often overlooked: God's grace is not a distant favor we hope for; it is the present reality of being spiritually resourced through an abiding relationship with Jesus.

Oswald Chambers draws our attention to a deeper understanding of eternal life—not as something external we receive, but as the very indwelling Life of God shared with us through union with Christ. This is not merely an imitation or empowerment from a distance. It’s Christ Himself, the same Spirit who raised Him from the dead, now living within those who have chosen to identify with Him through the cross.

The heart of this devotional isn’t a call to try harder to be transformed—it’s an invitation to fall deeper in love. J.B. Stoney reminds us that transformation doesn’t come from figuring out the “how” of change, but from gazing on the “Who” of our affection—Jesus Christ.

This reflection from eManna draws attention to a powerful phrase in Acts 9:15—“a chosen vessel.” It challenges us to rethink the way we view our calling as believers. Paul wasn’t simply called to do for Christ; he was chosen to contain Christ. That distinction carries incredible significance. A vessel is not a tool or a weapon—it is meant to hold something valuable, even sacred. And Saul of Tarsus, once a persecutor of Christ’s followers, was set apart to bear, contain, and express the very life of Christ to others.

In today's devotional, the writer emphasizes the significance of being a "chosen vessel," a term Scripture purposefully uses to express how we, as believers, are created to hold and carry the presence of God Himself. Unlike tools or weapons, a vessel has no inherent value or effectiveness apart from what it contains. Paul, originally Saul of Tarsus, wasn't merely chosen for a task or a role; he was intentionally chosen to be filled with Christ and to display and distribute Him to the world. This is beautifully illustrated in Paul's own writings, highlighting our divine purpose—not to strive in self-sufficiency—but to simply be containers of the surpassing greatness of God's power and mercy. Saul's transformation into Paul exemplifies God's intention for every believer: to be filled to overflowing with Christ Himself, thereby naturally expressing and reflecting Him to everyone we encounter.

John 8 is ablaze with the clash between light and darkness—not as abstract themes, but as living realities embodied in Christ and His challengers. When Jesus proclaimed, “I am the light of the world,” He was not merely painting with poetic brushstrokes. He was declaring His identity as the very presence of God who hovered over creation in Genesis, who guided Israel in the wilderness, who shone through the prophets, and who now stood among His people offering life, clarity, and salvation.

Ephesians 3 is like a quiet unveiling of something stunningly beautiful that had always been part of God’s plan, yet never fully seen until now. Paul, writing from prison, interrupts his own thought to marvel again at the grace he’s been given—not just for his own sake, but as a steward of something immense: the mystery of the gospel.

In today’s reading from In Christ, E. Stanley Jones invites us to consider the unimaginable intimacy and authority we share with Christ. He reflects on Revelation 3:21, where Jesus says to the overcomer, “I will grant him to sit with Me on My throne.” This staggering promise isn't merely symbolic—it reveals the very heart of God’s self-giving love. The God who stooped low to wash our feet also raises us to reign beside Him, not as passive subjects, but as those redeemed and restored to shared rulership in Christ.