Acts 8 captures a pivotal shift in the gospel’s movement outward from Jerusalem. After the martyrdom of Stephen, persecution caused the church to scatter—but rather than retreat, believers spread the good news. Among them was Philip (one of the Seven, not the apostle), who brought the gospel to Samaria. His ministry was marked by signs and healings, leading to great joy in the region. However, not all responses were pure—Simon the magician believed and was baptized, but his obsession with power revealed a heart still captive to self.

E. Stanley Jones delivers a striking reminder: the life of Christ within us isn’t meant to be stored, but shared. Paul, in calling the Corinthians to imitate him, reveals that a genuine life in Christ is always reproductive. It gives. It invites. It multiplies. Jones emphasizes that evangelism is not merely a church program but the natural outflow of a changed life. The clearest evidence that Christ is in us is that we are drawing others to Him.

Ray Stedman brings us to the opening word of the Lord’s Prayer—Father—a single, intimate word that reframes the entire experience of prayer. This isn’t a cold title or a distant formality; it’s a relational name that reveals the heart of the One we approach. Stedman reminds us that when Jesus instructed His disciples to pray, He didn't direct them to a cosmic force, a heavenly bureaucrat, or a divine financier. He pointed them to a Father—a person of love, attentiveness, and strength.

Today’s reflection from A.B. Simpson urges us to keep our eyes fixed on Jesus—not merely glancing at Him now and then, but practicing a continual “off-looking” from everything that would distract or defile. The German rendering of Hebrews 12:2 adds richness to this truth, suggesting a turning away from evil in order to gaze single-mindedly on Christ.

Obedience is not something we manufacture for God—it’s the very life of Christ lived through us. As Jesus always did the things that pleased the Father, not by striving but by humble dependence, so now He dwells in us to express the same obedient life. This obedience isn't cold compliance or religious effort; it's the fruit of abiding union. Christ Himself is our hope—both for the eternal glory we anticipate and for the daily walk that reflects heaven’s character.

Oswald Chambers draws us back to a truth so simple, we often overlook its depth: God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” This isn’t just a comforting phrase for hard times. It’s a foundational reality to build our lives upon. When everything is thrilling and purposeful, and when nothing feels new or inspiring—He is still with us.

Today’s devotional from Miles Stanford draws our hearts beyond mere preservation into transformation. While many believers find comfort in knowing that Christ shelters and sustains them—a truth certainly to be cherished—the devotional presses us further. It reminds us that the Christian life is not merely about having our needs met by Christ, but about being conformed to Christ.

Today's devotional from Witness Lee draws us into the quiet mystery surrounding Jesus' early life. Though the prophets declared that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem (Micah 5:2), He became known as Jesus of Nazareth. The unfolding events—Mary's conception in Nazareth, a census that forced a journey to Bethlehem, Herod’s violent jealousy, and the flight into Egypt—form a tapestry of God’s sovereign orchestration.

Genesis 5 traces ten generations from Adam to Noah, emphasizing both the continuation of life and the certainty of death. The repeated phrase “and he died” shows the reality of the fall, yet there is a whisper of hope embedded in the record. Humanity, made in the image of God, continues to bear that image, even after sin entered the world—this truth is affirmed in verse 3 when Adam fathers a son in his own likeness, just as God had made Adam in His.

Daniel 9 captures a pivotal moment of prayerful longing and divine revelation. Daniel had been studying Jeremiah’s prophecy, realizing that the seventy years of exile were nearly complete. He turned to God with humility, confessing the deep sin of the people and pleading for mercy—not merely for their sake but for the sake of God's name. He didn't deny the justice of their suffering; instead, he acknowledged it fully and appealed to the Lord's covenant love.

Psalm 17 gives voice to a righteous sufferer crying out for vindication, confident that the Lord listens to those who walk in integrity. David is under attack—not just physically, but with slander and malice—and his prayer rises from a deep assurance that God sees rightly. He isn’t claiming perfection, but he is appealing to a heart that desires righteousness, resisting temptation, and aligning his life with God’s ways in word, thought, and deed.

E. Stanley Jones exposes a critical distinction—one that has eternal significance. He warns us that religious education often substitutes knowledge about Jesus for knowledge of Jesus. And when that happens, the Christian faith is reduced to a moral system, a philosophy of life, or a noble guide for ethical living. It may inspire discipline and reform, but it cannot impart divine life. Why? Because life isn’t found in principles, it’s found in a Person.

When the disciples asked, “Lord, teach us to pray,” it wasn’t because they were unfamiliar with prayer. As former disciples of John the Baptist, they had likely practiced it often. But there was something so radically different, so captivating about the way Jesus prayed that it stirred within them a holy dissatisfaction with their own understanding.

Today's reflection from A.B. Simpson reminds us that the Christian life is not about mustering our own power, but about receiving and relying upon the power of the indwelling Holy Spirit. Acts 1:8 was not just a commission—it was a promise. Jesus never intended for us to be witnesses in our own strength. He knew we couldn’t. But He also knew we wouldn’t have to.

It is one thing to call Jesus “Lord,” but it is quite another to live under His lordship. Today’s devotional explores this tension with Jesus’ own piercing question: “Why do you call Me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do the things which I say?”Calling Christ “Lord” is not merely about our lips—it’s about our lives, surrendered to His authority.

Oswald Chambers invites us into the heart of divine friendship—a friendship so intimate that it moves beyond shared sorrow to shared delight. We often approach God with our burdens, but the deepest mark of relationship is when God shares His own joys with us. That kind of sharing only happens when we slow down and listen.

This reflection from Miles Stanford reminds us that the Lord is not impressed by our religious posturing or spiritual pretensions. True growth in Christ flows not from trying to appear more mature than we are, but from humbly walking in the measure of Christ we’ve actually appropriated. There’s no value in presenting ourselves as spiritual giants when we are still babes—He’s not asking us to “act the part.” Instead, He gently draws us to abide in the portion of Christ we presently know, with the assurance that all the fullness of His grace is already ours, waiting to be experienced as we mature.

Paul’s words in Romans 12:1 don’t come as a command, but as a tender plea: “I beg you, brothers…” It is the language of someone utterly captivated by grace. And what is he pleading? That we present our bodies as living sacrifices to God. Not dead sacrifices, like in the Old Testament, but living—full of divine life, vibrant with the indwelling Spirit.

Paul’s opening to Timothy carries deep tenderness and urgent authority. He grounds his role not in personal ambition but in God’s sovereign calling, showing us that the true authority in Christian life flows from God's command, not from personal merit. Timothy is more than a mentee—he is Paul’s spiritual son, a young leader in need of encouragement and mercy in the face of heavy responsibility.

The introduction to 1 Timothy reveals a deeply personal letter written by Paul to his spiritual son, Timothy. What stands out is not just the content but the weight of legacy behind it. Paul is handing the torch to Timothy, not just to maintain order in the church at Ephesus, but to protect the gospel itself. Years earlier, Paul warned the Ephesian elders that wolves would arise from among them, twisting truth to lead others astray. That moment has now arrived, and Timothy is called to stand guard.