Today’s entry from Abide Above shines a light on the futility of self-improvement and the glorious truth of our co-crucifixion with Christ. Miles Stanford draws a sharp contrast between religious systems built on refining the flesh and the liberating gospel that calls us to reckon ourselves dead to sin and alive to God through Christ.

Today’s reflection from Witness Lee turns our attention from the shaky ground of emotional uncertainty to the solid rock of God’s righteousness. Many believers fluctuate in their sense of being forgiven—sometimes they imagine God is merciful enough to forgive them, other times they suspect He may withhold forgiveness due to their failures. But the truth is far more secure and glorious than either of those feelings: God’s forgiveness is not rooted in mere pity or tolerance—it is grounded in His righteousness.

Paul’s second letter to Timothy opens with warmth and legacy. Imprisoned again in Rome and fully aware of his impending death, Paul writes not with anxiety but with a quiet confidence in Christ, urging his beloved spiritual son to remain faithful. Rather than jumping straight into correction or instruction, Paul opens with gratitude and deep affection. He reminds Timothy that his faith has a generational legacy—from his grandmother Lois and his mother Eunice—and that this same sincere faith now lives in him.

2 Timothy is Paul’s final letter, and his tone is deeply personal, tender, and urgent. He’s writing from a dark prison cell in Rome, aware that his death is near. But his thoughts aren’t on fear or regret — they’re fixed on the legacy of the gospel and the faithfulness of the Lord. His greatest concern? That Timothy, his beloved spiritual son, continue the mission — not in human strength, but in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.

Acts 13 opens with the Spirit-breathed commissioning of Saul and Barnabas for a mission that didn't originate from human plans or church consensus but from God Himself. The gathered church in Antioch—diverse in background and unified in worship—wasn’t strategizing but simply ministering to the Lord when the Holy Spirit set apart Saul and Barnabas. What follows is not Paul’s "first missionary journey" in the common sense but the first intentionally coordinated gospel movement to Gentile regions, beginning in Cyprus.

John Kennedy’s reflection reminds us that the Church, in its truest sense, was never meant to blend in with the world. When the Church becomes preoccupied with popularity, it forfeits the distinctiveness that Christ Himself prayed for in John 17. We were never commissioned to impress the world—we were sent into it, yes, but as sanctified ones, separated by truth and bearing a divine witness.

Today’s reflection from E. Stanley Jones lifts our hearts beyond the tyranny of outcomes and into the serenity of being in Christ. Jones recounts a contrast: a governor who outwardly succeeded yet inwardly despaired, and himself—lacking visible fruit but full of joy. The difference? One labored from self; the other labored in the Lord.

T. Austin-Sparks brings us into the depths of God’s eternal purpose—a purpose not bound by comfort or ease, but by the glorious forming of Christ’s likeness in us through suffering. It is not that God takes pleasure in our hardship, but that He lovingly refuses to let us settle for anything less than being conformed to the image of His Son.

In today’s reflection, Ray Stedman walks us through Jacob’s mysterious encounter in Genesis 32—a moment not of conquest, but collapse. Jacob, alone and anxious, is suddenly engaged in an all-night wrestling match with a mysterious figure. As the story unfolds, we discover this man is no ordinary opponent. Jacob names the place “Peniel,” for he recognizes he has seen God face to face and survived.

Today's reflection from A.B Simpson invites us into the divine mystery of giving—not as a loss, but as a participation in the very heartbeat of heaven. Simpson draws our attention to a truth often forgotten in the age of abundance: that the life most cherished by God is the one marked by surrender, not surplus.

Today’s entry from Bob Hoekstra opens a new series on one of the most treasured realities of the new covenant: the better promises we’ve received through grace. The author of Hebrews tells us plainly that Jesus is the Mediator of a better covenant, one that far surpasses the old covenant of law—not only in scope, but in the very foundation on which it stands: grace, not performance.

Oswald Chambers reminds us that Christian service isn't primarily about the work we do or the doctrines we defend—it’s about our relationship with a Person. Jesus didn’t say, “Go fight for my cause.” He said, “Feed my sheep.” That command flows from love, not duty. The foundation of all true ministry is personal, passionate devotion to Jesus Christ—not to a mission, not to a message, not even to ministry itself.

Today’s reflection from Miles Stanford explores the delicate art of presenting God’s truth in a manner that aligns not only with His message, but also with His method. The heart of the teaching is this: how we share the truth matters just as much as what truth we share.

Today’s reflection from Witness Lee draws our attention to the nature of the apostles’ fellowship—a fellowship that mirrors the unity of the Triune God. According to Acts 2:42 and 2 Corinthians 13:14, the early believers didn’t merely gather out of sentiment or routine. They joined together in shared teaching, prayer, communion, and life. But more than that, they let go of private agendas to participate in something far greater: God's divine purpose.

Genesis 10 records a sweeping genealogy that maps out the early dispersion of humanity after the flood, traditionally referred to as the “Table of Nations.” More than just a historical record, this chapter functions as a theological roadmap. It shows how God's providential purposes stretch across national lines and generations, moving from the distant nations (Japheth), to those under judgment (Ham), and ultimately toward the line of promise (Shem).

Hosea 2 tells the story of heartbreak—but not for heartbreak’s sake. It opens with a cry from a wounded husband to his wayward wife. But Hosea’s real aim, echoing the heart of God, is not condemnation—it’s restoration. The Lord, like Hosea, will not enable unfaithfulness, nor will He remain silent as His people chase after false lovers. He will expose the futility of idols, strip away the provisions that Israel mistakenly attributed to Baal, and disrupt their pursuit of lesser gods. The language is firm, even severe, but it is not cruelty—it is mercy laced with longing.

Psalm 22 opens with a cry of abandonment that seems to echo endlessly through the ages, ultimately finding its fulfillment in the mouth of Christ on the cross. David, though innocent in the immediate circumstance, is overwhelmed by suffering and isolation. He is mocked, physically broken, and emotionally devastated—yet the psalm never spirals into despair. Instead, it rises in crescendo toward praise.

Today’s reflection from E. Stanley Jones invites us to consider an unlikely concept: redeemed pride. In Christ, even something as dangerous as pride can be made holy. Paul, writing to the Corinthians, says he takes pride in them—but not in a fleshly sense. His pride is “in Christ Jesus our Lord” (1 Cor. 15:31), and that location changes everything. Rather than exalting self, it exalts the One who enables the work. Rather than boasting in what he or others have done, Paul’s heart is lifted in gratitude that Christ used him to lead others into life.

Today’s devotional from Nick Harrison draws a clear, sobering line between the holiness God invites us into and the casual worldliness that so often infiltrates our lives unnoticed. Dwight L. Moody speaks directly to the spiritual cost of blending into the world—how the church loses power when it ceases to look different from the culture it’s meant to influence. It isn’t about artificial appearances or forced separation; it’s about allegiance.

T. Austin-Sparks draws our attention to an oft-overlooked but piercing truth in Numbers 23:9—that God's people are not to be reckoned among the nations. In God's eyes, Israel—and by extension the Church—is distinct, set apart, even elevated above the world’s systems. Yet throughout history, Satan has labored to undo this separation. His strategy? Seduce the Church into seeking recognition by the world.