Oswald Chambers invites us to stop striving to manufacture love and instead rest in the reality that true love flows from God through us. This love—described in 1 Corinthians 13—is not premeditated or calculated. It is not the result of a disciplined self-improvement project, nor is it stirred up through willpower. It arises spontaneously, like a spring erupting from deep within, and catches us by surprise when we look back and realize how unselfish and kind we were in the moment.

Today’s Abide Above devotional cuts to the root of a subtle but dangerous mindset: trying to grow spiritually through self-imposed effort. We’re reminded that spiritual liberty cannot be manufactured through religious rules, personal discipline, or outward regulations. The apostle Paul questions why believers—who have died with Christ to the elementary principles of the world—would return to living as though they are still bound by its systems (Col. 2:20).

Today’s eManna devotional invites us to live from the unshakable awareness that we are not under the curse, but under the blessing. It compares the lives of those still marked by complaining, darkness, and bitterness with that of Joseph—who endured betrayal, false accusation, and imprisonment without resentment. Instead of seeing these experiences as curses, Joseph saw the hand of God in every trial, saying in effect, “God sent me here.” He chose praise over blame.

As I settle down to memorize 2 Corinthians 3:18, I am finding the verse to be incredibly rich with beauty and life application. In this verse, Paul contrasts the old covenant’s fading glory with the surpassing and permanent glory of the new covenant, which is revealed through the Spirit. Under the old covenant, Moses veiled his face because the Israelites could not bear to look upon God’s fading glory. But under the new covenant, believers—because of their union with Christ—behold the Lord’s glory with unveiled faces. This beholding is not merely visual; it is relational and spiritual. As we behold Christ through the Spirit, we are being transformed into His image, not by human striving but by the indwelling power of God. This transformation happens progressively, “from one degree of glory to another,” as we walk in the freedom and life of the Spirit.

T. Austin-Sparks draws us into the mystery of our union with Christ by pointing us to Jacob’s ladder — a connection between heaven and earth. Jesus, he reminds us, is the true and living ladder, the Son of Man upon whom heaven is opened, and angels ascend and descend. Through this living connection, Jesus was — and still is — both fully present on earth and yet always in perfect union with heaven. His source of power, wisdom, and life never came from within this world’s corrupted systems but from the incorruptible resources of His heavenly home.

Esther opens with the grand display of King Xerxes' empire, stretching across 127 provinces from India to Cush. He ruled from a position of enormous wealth, and to reinforce his majesty, he orchestrated a six-month festival to show off his splendor to leaders and nobles. Then, as if that weren’t enough, he extended a second banquet in Susa for everyone else, rich and poor alike. Nothing was spared—gold goblets, endless wine, opulence unmatched.

The book of Esther is a quiet testimony to the thunderous faithfulness of God. Though His name is never explicitly mentioned, His hand is unmistakably present, guiding events from behind the curtain. We’re introduced to a Jewish woman named Esther, who becomes queen in a foreign empire just as a genocidal plan unfolds against her people. While the Persian Empire may rule the land, and an evil official named Haman plots destruction, the true Sovereign is unseen yet unfailing.

Ezekiel 44 continues the prophet’s vision of the future temple, a sacred space now governed by holiness and order, as a reflection of God's unwavering presence and glory. The chapter opens with a striking image: the east gate of the outer court is permanently shut. Why? Because the glory of the Lord entered through it. That gate is now sealed, set apart for the Prince alone—symbolizing exclusivity, reverence, and the sanctity of God's dwelling place. Then, as Ezekiel is led to the front of the temple, he witnesses the overwhelming return of God’s glory. Once again, Ezekiel falls to the ground in worship.

Psalm 4 opens with David crying out to God during a season of personal attack and slander. His confidence isn’t rooted in his circumstances, but in the character of his “righteous God.” The study Bible notes emphasize that David isn’t demanding that God merely “listen,” as if God were distant or distracted. Instead, David is appealing to the God who vindicates the faithful—who knows, sees, and responds with favor.

T. Austin-Sparks confronts a subtle yet deeply entrenched deception within Christendom: the confusion between mysticism, asceticism, and true spirituality. This chapter challenges the reader to discern between religious emotionalism, aestheticism, and the authentic work of the Spirit. Cain’s example, the misplaced priorities of religious people, and the distinction between soul and spirit reveal a deep problem—one that still pervades Christian circles today.

In today's reflection, E. Stanley Jones brings us to a vital, living reality: abiding in Christ is fundamentally abiding in love. Drawing from John 15:9–10, Jones emphasizes that we are united with Christ to the extent that love is the atmosphere in which we live and move.

Today’s devotional from Ray Stedman invites us into the rich beauty of God's heart through His promises. The passage from Leviticus 26:3–4 is not simply about obeying rules for reward, but about responding to God's gracious provision with honest, open-hearted trust.

When we read John 4, while reflecting on our past blog post on the story of Jesus and the woman at the well, it’s easy to rush past the interaction without stopping to ponder a tender mystery:
What exactly did Jesus focus on in her that was good?
What was the “best part” that allowed Him to reach her heart?

Today’s devotional from AB Simpson reminds me that the true work of God is not mechanical or clinical — it’s deeply relational, rooted in divine love that sees what others overlook. Rather than confronting people first with their failures, the Spirit of Christ approaches through encouragement, reaching into their hearts by recognizing the good and drawing them into deeper need and transformation.

Today’s devotional from Day by Day by Grace, invites us to see ourselves through a beautiful lens: as living letters of Christ, walking testaments to His love, grace, and truth. Paul reminds the believers in Corinth—and us—that our lives are not just private journeys of faith but open letters being read by the watching world.

Today’s My Utmost for His Highest devotional invites me to embrace the spiritual beauty of not knowing exactly what is ahead, yet trusting completely in the One who holds it. Oswald Chambers highlights the subtle but vital difference between commonsense certainty — which clings to plans, goals, an

Today's Abide Above devotional draws our hearts to the reassuring truth that our life is not merely in God's hands—He is our very life. Every breath, every heartbeat, every hidden detail of creation is sustained by Him (Colossians 1:16–17). Because He upholds all things, we can rest in His faithfulness to uphold us too.

Today’s reflection from eManna turns our hearts to the refreshing reality of renewal in Christ.
The devotional reminds us that "newness" is not about age, freshness, or how much time has passed — it’s about relationship. God is ever fresh, ever new, because He Himself is Life unchanging and unaging. Everything connected to Him shares in that vitality.

When we open the Gospels, it’s striking to realize that even Jesus—the Son of God Himself—experienced misunderstanding and emotional distance from His own earthly family.

In Mark 3:21, we’re told that Jesus' family once thought He was "out of His mind" and tried to restrain Him. Later, in Mark 3:31–35, Matthew 12:46–50, and Luke 8:19–21, His mother and brothers came to where He was teaching, wanting to speak with Him. But instead of stopping everything to meet their wishes, Jesus looked around at those gathered in faith and said something radical:
"Who is My mother, and who are My brothers? Whoever does the will of My Father in heaven is My brother and sister and mother."

In Philippians 4, Paul’s love and affection for the believers shines so clearly. His instructions to the church aren’t cold commands but tender pleas from a heart knit to theirs. He urges them to stand firm together—like a single, fortified army—especially as he gently addresses a personal conflict between two beloved sisters in Christ. The call for unity is not about maintaining appearances, but about living as those already bound together in Christ’s eternal life.