A.B. Simpson paints a striking image today: a ship, long stranded and unmoved by the frantic labor of its crew, suddenly lifted and carried by a tidal wave—effortlessly, peacefully, gloriously free. This picture of release and movement is paralleled by the sun melting a great iceberg, not with force, but with warmth, transforming something immovable into something light and buoyant.

God delights in the aroma of His Son. And remarkably, He has chosen to release that same fragrance through us. This passage shows us that knowing Christ isn't only a private experience—it’s a spiritual fragrance that impacts others and rises to bless the Father Himself. The more we press in to know Christ—not just know about Him but experience Him dwelling and expressing Himself through us—the more that fragrance is diffused through our lives.

Oswald Chambers reminds us that spiritual maturity isn’t revealed in emotional highs or spiritual mountaintops—it’s shown in consistent, Spirit-led obedience regardless of how we feel. He cautions against becoming spiritual thrill-seekers, chasing inspiration as if it's a barometer of usefulness to God. In fact, Chambers says it's not whether we're “in season” emotionally that matters—it's whether we are available to God at all times.

Today’s devotional gently redirects our focus from striving to abiding. Its core message is a refreshing reminder: usefulness in the kingdom of God does not begin with activity—it begins with affection. J.B. Stoney, whose insight we’re drawing from, contrasts the usefulness of Mary and Martha, emphasizing that those who are captivated by Christ Himself are those through whom His life flows most freely.

In today’s devotional, Witness Lee draws from the life of Joseph to remind us that everything—yes, everything—that happens to us in this life is ultimately a blessing. Joseph’s story, which includes betrayal, slavery, and unjust imprisonment, culminates in his declaration to his brothers that what they meant for evil, God meant for good (Gen. 50:20). This wasn’t spiritual spin or denial—it was the reality Joseph lived from.

Philippians 2 is a masterful call to Christlike humility, unity, and sacrificial love—rooted in the astonishing descent and exaltation of Jesus Christ. Paul urges believers to imitate Christ, not by striving in self-effort, but by yielding to the mindset that is already ours through union with Him. The foundation of Christian unity is not merely shared doctrine or communal affection—it is the triune love of Father, Son, and Spirit.

John 13 marks the beginning of what is often called the “Book of Glory”—a section that doesn’t just recount events but unveils the glorious love of Christ in action. In this opening chapter, the apostle shifts the spotlight from public miracles to private ministry. It’s the night before Jesus’ crucifixion, and rather than bracing for His own suffering, He tenderly prepares His disciples for what’s to come. The world sees final meals as farewells—Jesus saw it as the start of eternal fellowship.

E. Stanley Jones brings us into a powerful meditation on John 15:7—“If you abide in Me and My words abide in you, ask whatever you will, and it shall be done for you.” He points out that this abiding has two sides: the general—abiding in Christ—and the specific—His words abiding in us. Jones warns that focusing only on general love can become sentimental and empty, while focusing only on specific acts (like absolute honesty, purity, unselfishness, and love) can become rigid and exhausting. This second path often devolves into law—a life centered on trying harder in our own strength. And trying always drains.

In today’s devotional, Ray Stedman unfolds the tenderness and loving authority in God’s words to Israel—a God who doesn’t merely command, but redeems, sanctifies, and draws near. God reminds His people that He brought them out of bondage not just to set them free, but to be their God—intimately present, actively forming them into whole, radiant image-bearers. Stedman highlights that God doesn’t seek busy religious performance. He desires restored hearts, healed blemishes, and yielded vessels through which His life can flow.

A.B. Simpson brings our attention to the sacred boundary between trust and interference. He recounts the tragedy of Uzzah, whose well-intentioned but unauthorized touch of the ark led to his death. The message is piercing: even when our motives seem pure, placing our hands on what God has claimed as His own can result in harm—not just to ourselves, but to others, and even to the testimony of His sovereignty.

Today’s devotional invites us to reconsider how we define victory in the Christian life. Often, we imagine triumph as an escape from pain, hardship, or difficult circumstances. But Scripture paints a different picture—one in which victory is not dependent on deliverance from tribulation, but rather on our unbreakable union with the love of Christ.

Oswald Chambers’ heart in today’s entry cuts through the noise of religious performance and aims straight at the danger of spiritual self-promotion. His concern isn’t sin in the traditional sense, nor worldliness in the expected form—but the subtler trap of spiritual undiscipline. It’s when we are so caught up in the appearance of religious success that we forget the essence of discipleship.

This morning’s reflection centers on the necessary dismantling of our self-sufficiency so that we might behold the sufficiency of Christ. Drawing from Job’s final declaration—“I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear… but now mine eye seeth Thee”—the devotional presents a hard yet hopeful truth: God's loving intent in our trials is not to pamper us, but to purify our vision. We may hear about God through religion, tradition, or even study, but we often do not see Him until we are brought low and emptied of everything else.

Today’s devotional from eManna draws on the beautiful imagery of Naphtali, described in Genesis 49:21 as a “hind let loose” who “gives beautiful words.” The Hebrew phrase evokes a creature leaping freely at dawn, full of energy and new life. It points us to the picture of Psalm 22, where Christ emerges in resurrection as the “hind of the morning”—a poetic title given in the superscription of that psalm.

I’ve hesitated to join small groups in the past—not out of pride, but out of sorrow. When I hear someone teach as if we must perform to remain acceptable to God, something inside me grieves. I lived that way for 59 years, striving to measure up, until Christ opened my eyes to the exchanged life—His life in me, and my life hidden in Him. Now, when I hear law-centered thinking, it’s not anger I feel—it’s deep compassion. But I also wrestle with how to engage in these spaces.

Nehemiah 11 brings us back to the strategic and spiritual heartbeat of the restoration project: the repopulation of Jerusalem. The city was more than an urban center—it was the holy city, set apart as the dwelling place of God's name. However, it was vulnerable due to underpopulation. To resolve this, Nehemiah resumed his earlier plan from chapter 7, organizing a kind of “sacred lottery” to repopulate Jerusalem with families from Judah and Benjamin, along with priests, Levites, and temple workers.

In this rich and layered section of Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, we’re invited to embrace a stark contrast between what we once were and who we now are. Paul isn’t merely offering moral guidance; he’s unveiling a supernatural identity—“you are light in the Lord.” That identity isn't earned by behavior; rather, it compels new behavior. Just as darkness conceals and confuses, light reveals and transforms. Therefore, we are to live as children of light—not just surrounded by light, but bearing it.

E. Stanley Jones draws us deeper into the mystery of abiding with Christ, focusing on John 15:7. The promise seems extraordinary: “Ask whatever you will, and it shall be done for you.” Yet this is no blank check for the flesh. It’s a spiritual inheritance accessed by those who live in continuous union with Christ—both generally and specifically.

In today’s reflection from Immeasurably More, we encounter a rich picture of identity and purpose drawn from the Old Testament priesthood. Leviticus 21:6a speaks to the requirement for priests to be holy—not in the distorted sense of somber religious piety, but in the life-giving sense of wholeness.

In today’s reading, A.B. Simpson draws our attention to the compassionate heart of our High Priest—Jesus Christ—who fully understands our humanity. He recalls a moment with a suffering sister in Christ who, in the midst of her own pain, turned outward in loving concern for a needy child. Her selfless prayer, filled with tender mercy and deep compassion, became a picture of Christ’s very nature alive within her.