The early disciples were not disheartened by suffering. Instead, they rejoiced — not because the pain was pleasant, but because they were counted worthy to bear dishonor for the Name of Jesus. They didn’t retreat, didn’t stay quiet, and didn’t second-guess their calling. Day after day, from public places to private homes, they continued boldly proclaiming Christ.

Jeremiah’s words cut through the illusion of independence: “a man’s way is not his own.” That is not a judgment, but a gift—an invitation to relinquish the exhausting burden of self-direction and self-effort. In today’s devotional, A.B. Simpson points us back to the beauty of union with Christ, reminding us that Jesus is not merely our example, but our indwelling life. He didn’t come to leave us with a model to follow in our own strength; He came to be Himself in us.

Ministry grounded in grace demands integrity. In this devotional, Bob Hoekstra warns against manipulative or deceitful ministry practices—methods that often operate in secret and appeal to fleshly desires or pride. These may gain attention or applause, but they do not align with the heart of God.

Oswald Chambers pulls no punches in exposing one of the most subtly accepted lies among believers: the idea that we somehow live in spiritual poverty when, in fact, we have inherited all the riches of God through Christ. The phrase “I can’t afford it”—whether financially or spiritually—is not humility; it’s a denial of our divine inheritance. This devotional invites us to form the habit of recognizing God's provision—not only mentally but practically, as those who participate in His divine nature through His promises.

If we were asked to write the opening lines of the biography of the Son of God, most of us would have chosen to highlight the noble lineage, the spiritual champions, and the righteous ancestors. We would have combed through the genealogical record and polished the names that brought honor to the line of Christ. But the Holy Spirit, who authored Scripture, did just the opposite.

Today’s reflection from Miles Stanford invites us to see ministry not as a measure of public productivity, but as the quiet overflow of Christ’s life within us. In a world that equates influence with visibility, we’re reminded that the most Christ-honoring service often goes unnoticed. But it is not unseen.

Paul’s heart for the Thessalonian believers flows like a current beneath every word in this chapter. The exposition reveals a layered movement of love, concern, reassurance, and prayer. Though separated physically from the Thessalonians and grieved by their suffering, Paul doesn’t merely lament. He sends Timothy to strengthen and encourage them—to see whether their faith has held firm in the face of persecution. And it has. Timothy returns with a report not only of their steadfast faith and love, but also their deep affection for Paul. This news revives Paul’s spirit.

Luke’s second volume, the book of Acts, continues the story of Jesus—not as a closed chapter, but as an ongoing reality through His Spirit-empowered people. The Gospel of Luke captured what Jesus began to do; Acts captures what He continues to do.

Without the book of Acts, our understanding of the New Testament would be significantly impoverished. Acts serves as a vital bridge between the Gospels and the Epistles, giving us the context for Paul’s ministry, the expansion of the early church, and the inclusion of Gentiles in the body of Christ. Authored by Luke, the beloved physician and companion of Paul, this sequel to the Gospel of Luke lays out a detailed historical and theological account of how the gospel spread from Jerusalem to Rome. It's not merely history—it is theological history, showing God's plan unfolding through Spirit-led disciples who acted in obedience to Christ's commission.

God’s grace is not a general kindness floating in the cosmos—it is defined, shaped, and manifested in the person of Jesus Christ. While God’s love is universal, His grace cannot be distributed apart from the truth of His own character. And that character has been fully revealed in Jesus. So while it may seem generous for grace to be extended through other avenues—through idols, ideas, or efforts apart from Christ—it would actually violate the very nature of God. He cannot express grace in ways that contradict His own holiness and truth. If He did, He would misrepresent Himself and deceive the recipient about what is truly good.

Acts 5:12–14 recounts a surge of miraculous healings and signs performed through the apostles. This extraordinary manifestation of divine power drew awe and reverence, resulting in more men and women believing in the Lord and being added to the church. The scene recalls the days of Jesus’ earthly ministry, but as Ray Stedman’s devotional rightly clarifies, these miracles were specific to the apostles—affirming their foundational role in the early church.

We often rejoice in what we’ve already received from God—salvation, peace, daily grace. But today’s reflection from A.B. Simpson challenges us to take a deeper inventory: are there places in our lives still unyielded, unoccupied by the presence of the Holy Spirit?

God has not called us to a ministry grounded in merit or personal qualification. Instead, He has drawn us into a service marked by mercy and grace—originating in His compassion and carried out by His supply. The apostle Paul reminds us that our ministry flows from mercy: we were not worthy, but we were forgiven, cleansed, and brought near. Not only that, but we were also entrusted with Kingdom work, not because of our accomplishments but because of His mercy.

Oswald Chambers reminds us that salvation is not merely a divine transaction that secures our place in heaven—it is the beginning of a lifelong unveiling of Christ through us. The purpose of our salvation is not to retreat into ease, but to rise into Christ’s expression. Our calling is clear: that the Son of God might be seen in our lives.

Nothing that touches the life of a yielded believer escapes the sovereign reach of God’s love. Today’s reflection from Abide Above presses the glorious truth that for those abiding in Christ, there are no second causes. Though the pain of injustice, betrayal, or affliction may come through human hands—or even from the schemes of the enemy—those events, by the time they reach a surrendered heart, are folded into the will of God. Not because the sin was authored by God, but because He permitted it and will redeem it for His purpose: to conform us into the image of Christ (Romans 8:29).

Most people skim past genealogies in Scripture, especially those long lists of names that seem ancient and distant. But in the Gospels, the genealogies are far from filler. They’re foundational. Matthew and Luke — and only those two — make space to anchor Jesus in history through His lineage.

Esther’s moment of destiny had arrived. She no longer hesitated or hinted—this time, she stood in full courage and disclosed her identity and her people’s peril. The king, unaware that the edict he had permitted would destroy his own queen, was suddenly awakened to the severity of the situation. Esther’s request was not laced with vengeance, but with life—“spare me and my people.” Her plea pierced the king’s heart with both love and justice.

In Daniel 2, we’re introduced to the mysterious dream that left King Nebuchadnezzar deeply troubled—one that his wise men could not interpret unless he first revealed the dream itself. But the king refused to disclose it. His demand was impossible by human standards and punishable by death. And yet, in this moment of crisis, God was orchestrating a revelation that would unveil not only the contents of the dream but the sovereignty of His eternal kingdom.

Psalm 10 opens with a tension familiar to many hearts: the anguish of perceiving God’s absence during times of great evil. Although Psalm 9 ended with a triumphant reminder of God’s justice, Psalm 10 begins with David’s aching question: Why, O Lord, do You stand far off? Why do You hide Yourself in times of trouble? These questions don’t arise from unbelief, but from the sting of watching injustice thrive while the innocent suffer.

E. Stanley Jones reminds us that our sanctification—the process by which we are made holy—is not a self-contained accomplishment or a mystical experience to be admired in isolation. Rather, it is located in Christ Jesus. Paul does not say we are simply “sanctified,” but that we are “sanctified in Christ Jesus” (1 Corinthians 1:2). This is not mere wording—it is foundational theology. It roots our transformation not in our effort or our experience, but in our union with the One who is holy.