What if a well-intended spiritual practice subtly concealed a deeper problem—not because it was overtly evil, but because it blended the sacred with the merely symbolic? In Leviticus 19:19, God gave Israel a law that might seem strange to us today: "Do not wear clothing woven of two kinds of material." On the surface, this feels outdated. But through this command, God revealed something enduring—something not bound to ancient garments, but to spiritual reality: some things were never meant to be mixed.

Ray Stedman reminds us that Old Testament laws like not mixing fabrics, seeds, or animals were never about the materials themselves. Rather, they were designed to impress upon Israel the danger of mixing opposing spiritual principles—light with darkness, truth with error, faith with flesh. These were training tools to teach discernment. Today, in the New Covenant, we’re not bound to follow these symbols literally, but we are to understand the heart behind them: God does not permit a blending of His life with fleshly ways.

A.B. Simpson draws our hearts today to the inner reality of Christ’s anointing within us—the indwelling presence of God’s love, which does not fade or fluctuate. His Spirit doesn’t come and go; He remains, and with Him comes the gentle teaching of love itself. This isn’t a call to discard instruction, but to recognize that all true understanding flows from the Spirit’s life within. And that life? It is love.

At the heart of the new covenant is not a rulebook but a relationship. Bob Hoekstra reminds us that grace does more than bring us into God’s family—it deepens our fellowship with Him day by day. The very essence of growth under grace is knowing the Lord more intimately, not just knowing about Him. Paul echoed this desire when he prayed that believers would walk in a way that pleased the Lord by growing in the knowledge of God (Colossians 1:10).

In today’s devotional, Oswald Chambers gently but firmly redirects our gaze away from the mystical and toward the immediate. The Lord is not waiting in the distance to be revealed in dramatic ways—He is present, here and now. Chambers notes that we often hurt the Lord, not through rebellion, but through our doubts, our complicated logic, and our restless hearts that cannot simply rest in Him.

There’s a sacred mystery to the sufferings we walk through—not only are they never wasted, but they are precisely fashioned to prepare us to carry out the kind of service the Father has in mind. Today's devotional from Abide Above reveals how God, in His triune love and wisdom, orchestrates every affliction with a dual purpose: first, to form Christ within us, and second, to enable us to bring comfort and truth to others who are suffering.

Today’s eManna devotional reflects on Zebulun, a tribe of Israel described as dwelling by the sea and becoming a haven for ships (Genesis 49:13). This imagery paints a prophetic picture—not just of geography—but of gospel ministry. Zebulun, situated in Galilee, becomes a symbol of gospel exportation. It was in Galilee where Jesus began His public ministry, where He later appeared to His disciples after His resurrection, and where He commissioned them to go into all the world.

Nehemiah 9 captures a sacred moment when the people of Israel, freshly reawakened by the Word of God, gather in repentance and reflection. This chapter moves beyond personal mourning to a national confession—a recognition that the same God who rescued them from Egypt, led them through the wilderness, and planted them in the land, remained faithful even when they were not. The chapter unfolds as a long prayer, rich with historical remembrance and honest self-examination.

Ezekiel 40 ushers us into the final vision of the prophet's ministry—a breathtaking panorama that centers on a future temple, a place of restored worship and divine presence. The chapter is a meticulous architectural walkthrough of this new sanctuary, guided by a radiant angelic figure who instructs Ezekiel to observe, listen, and report.

Job’s final response is markedly different from his earlier, reserved admission in chapter 40. Now, Job affirms the absolute sovereignty of God—not just as a doctrinal truth but as a deeply personal realization. He confesses that God's purposes cannot be thwarted and that nothing occurs outside the scope of His authority, even the operations of Satan. This isn’t dualism. There is only one ultimate authority in the universe, and Job acknowledges this with a reverent awe. His earlier words are recanted, not out of shame, but because he now sees God more clearly—not through secondhand reports, but through a direct encounter. And in this clearer vision of God, Job sees himself rightly—not worthless, but humbled and finite in the presence of infinite wisdom.

E. Stanley Jones doesn’t mince words in today’s devotional entry. He draws a bright line between abiding in Christ and choosing not to. And it’s not merely a theological concept—it’s existential. To abide in Christ is to receive His very life. His peace becomes our peace. His joy, our joy. His purity, His victory, His power—ours by intimate union, not by imitation.

Ray Stedman draws our attention to one of the most powerful forces in human experience—sexuality—and reminds us that God’s Word doesn’t suppress it, but rather channels it. Like a mighty river, sex brings life and delight when it stays within God’s boundaries, but brings destruction when unleashed without restraint.

A.B. Simpson directs our gaze today not to the mountaintops of public ministry or spiritual epiphany, but to the quiet valleys where life feels ordinary—where faith is shaped in the pottery of routine. He writes of those anonymous artisans—potters by trade, yet living in the service of the king. They carried out seemingly mundane work, but it was holy work because of who they served and how they served.

Bob Hoekstra leads us today into the core of what it means to live as Jesus lived—not by imitating His actions from a distance, but by participating in the same relational dependence Jesus had with the Father. Jesus didn’t operate out of His own divine initiative while walking the earth. Instead, He chose to live as a man yielded to the indwelling presence and will of the Father. He didn’t simply model obedience; He demonstrated the reality of union.

Oswald Chambers gets to the heart of a subtle but damaging attitude many of us carry without realizing: misjudging God's provision and, in doing so, slandering His goodness. He explains that Jesus' parable of the talents (or bags of gold) is not about natural abilities, personality, or even how sharp our minds are. It’s about our response to the Spirit’s life within us—our spiritual capacity, which is measured by God's promises, not our resumes.

Today’s reflection from Abide Above reminds us that every hardship, trial, and season of suffering is a custom-tailored expression of God's love and divine purpose for us. We are not left to drift through affliction aimlessly. Rather, we are being formed—conformed—into the image of Christ through every valley we walk. The trials of life are not blemishes on the journey but burnishings that reveal the solid gold of Christ’s life in us.

This morning’s devotional paints a vivid picture from Genesis 49:11 and Revelation 19:8, inviting us to see our behavior—our daily walk—as garments that can be saturated with the wine of Christ’s life. In Scripture, wine and grape juice are not just metaphors of His provision but expressions of both satisfaction and joy. Grape juice quenches thirst; wine stirs excitement.

Few biblical scenes strike the heart with such gravity as the fiery judgment of Sodom and Gomorrah. And for many believers, one question lingers long after the smoke clears: What about the children? Were there no innocent lives among the rubble? Why would a good and sovereign God allow their deaths?

It’s one of the most sobering questions a believer can ask:
If God is good and sovereign (and He is), why did He rain down fire on Sodom and Gomorrah, yet He seems to delay judgment on nations or groups today that traffic children, endorse slavery, or revel in brutality?

Ephesians 6 brings Paul's letter to a powerful conclusion, tying together relational submission, spiritual identity, and divine readiness. He first addresses practical relationships: children are to obey their parents, not just because it’s traditional, but because it reflects the moral order of God's creation—an obedience that honors, preserves peace, and leads to flourishing. Fathers, representing leadership in the home, are urged not to provoke their children with harshness but to nurture them with wisdom, instruction, and Christlike guidance.