Oswald Chambers takes us deep into the passage from Luke 14 where Jesus speaks of building a tower—and counting the cost. At first glance, it may appear Jesus is challenging us to consider what discipleship might cost us. But Oswald wisely turns the focus to what it cost Christ. The full redemptive plan—His thirty hidden years, the three years of opposition and praise, the sweat of Gethsemane, and the agony of the Cross in its totality—was the cost He already counted and paid in full.

Miles Stanford’s reflection for today calls us to wake up to the reality of our present position in Christ—not just that our sins are forgiven, but that we have been raised and seated with Christ in the heavenly places. Many believers stop short at the Cross, gratefully acknowledging forgiveness but failing to step into the full implications of resurrection and ascension life. As a result, they continue to live tethered to the concerns and limitations of the earthly realm rather than enjoying their inheritance and fellowship in heaven.

There is a breathtaking truth woven throughout Scripture—one that reaches beyond religious identity and into the very core of who we are: we are not just believers, we are children of God. And not merely any god, but the God—the King of all creation, the Lord of heaven and earth. This makes us, by spiritual birthright, sons and daughters of the King. Royalty. Heirs.

Today’s devotional by Witness Lee draws a beautiful comparison between Joseph’s promotion in Egypt and Christ’s exaltation after His resurrection. Just as Pharaoh gave Joseph a signet ring—a symbol of delegated authority and identification—so the Father gave Christ the Holy Spirit at His ascension. The ring was used as a seal, marking whatever it touched with the authority of the one who owned it.

In Colossians 3, the Grace and Truth Study Bible presents Paul’s message as a call to embrace a heavenly identity in Christ, one that radically transforms not just our spiritual status but every practical aspect of life. Paul insists that the believer’s real life is already hidden with Christ in God—meaning that even now, from God’s perspective, we are seated with Christ in the heavenly realms. That invisible reality calls for a visible change. Believers are to set their minds on things above and live accordingly.

John 18 draws us into the tension and glory of Jesus’ passion with a portrait of His calm authority, steadfast love, and unwavering purpose. He steps into the darkness of betrayal not as a victim but as a willing sacrifice, fully in control, initiating His own arrest to protect His disciples. John emphasizes Jesus’ divine authority—His very name causing soldiers to fall back—and His commitment to the mission the Father gave Him. While Peter’s fear leads to denial, Jesus’ courage leads to obedience, and John juxtaposes these two responses to suffering for our reflection.

E. Stanley Jones reminds us that the Holy Spirit does not restrict His movement to ecclesiastical structures or apostolic titles. Rather, He often flows most freely through those whose lives are integrated — those who do not divide their days into sacred and secular compartments. The so-called "Seven" in Acts, chosen to serve tables, became vessels of remarkable spiritual influence. Stephen preached with such power that revival swept through Jerusalem, though it cost him his life. Philip’s evangelism reached Samaria and Ethiopia, catalyzing international and cross-cultural missions. Even the earliest recognition of women as prophetic voices appears under his influence.

The question “What shall we do?” echoes across every heart that has come to recognize the truth about Jesus. In Acts 2:38, Peter responds not with ambiguity, but with clarity: there is indeed something to be done. First, a change of mind—repentance—must occur. This isn’t an emotional breakdown, nor a dramatic display of guilt. Rather, repentance is a decisive turning in one’s thinking—a spiritual realignment. You thought Jesus was just a man, a teacher, perhaps a prophet. But now, seeing Him as Lord of all, you align your thoughts with the truth: He is the Christ, the Son of the Living God.

Romans 6:11 calls us to a radical accounting — to consider ourselves not merely trying to resist sin, but to count ourselves already dead to it and fully alive to God in Christ. This is not an invitation to perform or repress ourselves into a better version of Christian living; it's a call to walk in resurrection life — His life.

Today’s reading from Bob Hoekstra presents a striking contrast between two ways of living and ministering: the ministry of death and the ministry of life. Drawing from 2 Corinthians 3, the “ministry of death” refers to the law-based approach that demands righteousness but provides no power to fulfill it. This approach, though originally glorious in its intent, ultimately results in frustration and spiritual deadness when used as a standard for living.

Today’s devotional by Oswald Chambers urges us to reconsider what true spiritual freedom looks like. It isn’t the liberty to form personal opinions or choose theological positions at whim — it’s the liberty of conscience that comes from being ruled by Christ alone. Many search the Scriptures but miss the Person to whom they point. True freedom isn’t found in the accumulation of doctrine but in a surrendered walk with the One the Scriptures reveal.

“But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit.” —2 Corinthians 3:18

Theologically, we come to understand that transformation comes not by self-effort, but by beholding Christ. Yet for many believers, this idea seems abstract. What does it actually mean to behold His glory—and how does that become a functional part of daily life?

Today's entry from Miles Stanford traces the believer’s journey from complexity to clarity — from grappling with theological ideas to resting in the radiant simplicity of knowing Christ. At first glance, spiritual truths such as union with Christ, transformation, and divine origin may seem abstract or hard to grasp. But as grace unfolds, these truths become as logically beautiful and experientially real as the gift of justification.

In today’s devotional by Witness Lee, the powerful imagery of Joseph’s sudden elevation from dungeon to throne draws a vivid parallel to Christ’s glorification after His resurrection. Joseph’s story is more than just a tale of reversal; it is a living picture of the One who was rejected, scorned, and seemingly forgotten—only to be lifted up in majesty. The very ones who had once stripped Joseph of honor would later see him clothed in glory, riding in authority under Pharaoh’s commission.

The shadow of spiritual warfare runs quietly beneath the surface of Esther 3. Haman, newly exalted by King Xerxes, steps onto the stage as the antagonist—but he is more than a power-hungry politician. Scripture subtly unveils a deeper hostility: an ancient enmity that stretches back to Genesis 3:15. Haman, a descendant of Agag the Amalekite king, represents the enduring opposition to God’s covenant people. Mordecai, a descendant of King Saul, now refuses to bow before Haman. Whether out of national memory, personal conviction, or divine stirring, Mordecai’s stand reveals a refusal to yield to one who opposes the people of God.

In Ezekiel 46, the prophet continues his vision of the restored temple, this time focusing on the role of the prince and the people in worship. The emphasis here is on structure, reverence, and consistency. The prince—representing leadership—is not above worship but is central to it. His participation is not optional or symbolic; it’s required, deliberate, and visible. Worship is not simply a private act of devotion—it’s a public demonstration of alignment with God’s order, a visible prioritization of His presence.

David’s cry in Psalm 6 reveals a heart torn between physical weakness, emotional sorrow, and a longing for God’s response. His words feel painfully raw—sleepless nights, eyes swollen from tears, and a heart worn thin. Yet in the midst of the anguish, David isn’t merely lamenting—he’s appealing. He doesn’t try to impress God with righteousness or logic. Instead, he pleads his frailty, God's loyal love, and the simple truth that the dead do not praise. What begins as groaning ends in confidence. Not because circumstances change, but because David becomes certain that God has heard.

E. Stanley Jones confronts a subtle yet deeply rooted error in church history—the artificial separation between the spiritual and the material. He points to the moment in Acts 6 when the apostles, facing practical ministry needs, delegated “serving tables” to others in order to focus on “prayer and the ministry of the word.” While this may appear spiritually wise on the surface, Jones suggests that it unintentionally introduced a dualism—a hierarchy in which spiritual ministry was elevated and material service was diminished.

Today’s devotional from Ray Stedman brings us into the electric moment at Pentecost when Peter's bold proclamation of Christ’s resurrection hits the crowd like a thunderclap. These weren’t outsiders; they were the very people who had shouted for Jesus’ crucifixion just fifty days earlier. And now, in a sweeping turn, Peter declares that the same Jesus they rejected has been made “both Lord and Messiah.”

Today’s devotional by A. B. Simpson beckons us into the sunrise of resurrection living. Simpson reminds us that the risen Christ does not wait for us to climb toward Him—He’s already present before the dawn, joyfully greeting us with His triumphant “All hail!” Just as He met Mary on that first Easter morning, He longs to meet us in the freshness of every new day.