Today’s reflection from Witness Lee brings us to the powerful moment of Pentecost, where Peter, freshly filled with the Holy Spirit, boldly spoke of Christ. His words were not mere recollections of past events—they carried the weight and life of the risen Jesus. He didn’t simply talk about Christ; he spoke forth Christ, and something eternal happened in that moment.

E. Stanley Jones dispels the myth that Christianity is a bleak denial of life—a grim list of rules and restrictions that suppress natural joy. He draws our attention to the radiant truth of 2 Corinthians 1:19–20: “In Him it is always Yes. For all the promises of God find their Yes in Him.”

C. Stanley draws our attention to a simple but piercing question: Are you led by the Spirit of God, or are you simply reacting to the structures and strategies of the world around you—even those found within the religious realm? The difference, he suggests, marks whether or not we experience the full joy of our identity as sons and daughters of God.

T. Austin-Sparks speaks directly to the exhausted heart of the striving believer—the one who’s reached for more of God through effort rather than intimacy. He confesses he was no stranger to that strain. And in doing so, he invites us to hear what the Lord patiently whispers to every spiritually worn-out soul: “If you only knew Me…”

Jabez’s short but powerful prayer, tucked into a genealogical list in 1 Chronicles, might seem self-serving at first glance. But a closer look reveals something far richer: a heart attuned to God's desires, not just his own. Ray Stedman invites us to reconsider how we define selfishness in prayer—not by whether it benefits us, but by whether it aligns with what God desires to give.

Today’s reflection from A.B. Simpson reminds us that in the eyes of God, the ministry of "helping" is not a side note—it’s a sacred appointment. Nestled in Paul’s list of church roles, helps are listed before governments, revealing something profound: Heaven values the hidden servants.

God, in His infinite perfection, has an "inability" that is stunningly beautiful—He cannot lie. This is not a weakness, but a window into His unwavering faithfulness. The very fabric of His being is truth, and when He speaks, He does so with a certainty beyond comprehension.

Today’s reflection from Oswald Chambers calls us to step away from a self-focused spirituality and embrace our priestly calling in Christ. We are not saved to spend our lives measuring how saved we are. We’re not made holy so we can obsess over whether we’ve done enough to be called holy. Our salvation, our righteousness, our identity—all are already secured in Christ.

Today’s reflection from Miles Stanford speaks to the deep difference between passing along information and embodying transformation. We can’t minister life to others from a distance or from a set of facts, even if they are scripturally sound and passionately delivered. True spiritual impact flows not from what we know, but from what Christ has made real in us—often through the painful shaping of trials, the long road of waiting, and the quiet surrender to His process.

We often speak of Christ being in us—but how is this possible? The answer lies in resurrection. If Jesus had remained only a historical figure, no matter how holy or admirable, He would still be separate from us. His goodness would inspire, but not indwell. His life would instruct, but not empower.

Genesis 11:1–9 offers a sobering snapshot of humanity’s desire to exalt itself apart from God. Even after the flood, human pride remains undiminished. United by one language and one goal, the people seek to construct a tower whose top “reaches the heavens”—a symbolic effort to blur the boundary between the creature and the Creator. They don’t simply want to build; they want to make a name for themselves, a stark contrast to trusting in the name God gives.

Hosea 3 paints one of the most intimate, painful, and beautiful pictures of God's covenantal faithfulness. The Lord instructs Hosea to go again and love his wife Gomer, even though she has committed adultery. This isn’t a romantic pursuit but a redemptive act. Hosea pays a price—not a bride-price for a new bride, but a ransom to reclaim one who already belongs to him. This was likely to free her from the shame and bondage of her debts, not because she had earned back his favor.

Psalm 23 gives us one of Scripture’s most tender portraits of life lived in the care of God. David does not present a distant deity but a God who leads, provides, and walks alongside us. To have the Lord as our Shepherd is not merely to survive—but to be cared for, protected, nourished, and given rest. The green pastures and quiet waters are not idealized escapes but reminders of real spiritual provision that God offers in every season. Even in the darkest valleys—the most disorienting or dangerous moments of life—David knows he is not alone. The Shepherd’s rod disciplines for our good, and His staff guards our path.

E. Stanley Jones reflects on a love that refuses to draw lines. Paul’s tender benediction to the Corinthian believers—“My love be with you all in Christ Jesus”—was warm, but still confined. True Christian love goes further. It doesn’t stop at fellow believers; it stretches into enemy territory.

George Matheson reflects on the image of the burning bush—a fire that consumes nothing and yet burns with divine glory. He recognizes that when earthly possessions burn, they vanish. But when the soul is set ablaze, it begins to live in ways it never has before.

The enemy is subtle, and his strategy is often to push us from one extreme to another. In the churches of Galatia, Satan first pressed the people toward legalism—using law to control and burden. But when Paul, by the Spirit, revealed that believers are not under law but under grace, the enemy adjusted tactics. If he couldn't bind them by legalism, he would tempt them toward lawlessness—license dressed as liberty.

Today’s reflection from Ray Stedman reminds us that not all prayers are eloquent, poised, or faith-filled in tone—but even the weakest groanings of the heart, when aimed toward God, become a vessel of grace. We meet Moses not at the height of his leadership, but in one of his most human moments—overwhelmed, disheartened, and venting before the Lord. His words are raw: “Did I give birth to these people? Why do I have to carry them?” He’s tired of being the go-between, frustrated by the people’s demands, and emotionally at the end of himself.

And yet—God hears him.

We often try to escape our current circumstances, thinking a change in scenery or calling will somehow be more spiritual or significant. But today’s devotional from A.B. Simpson gently reminds us that God’s providence is not limited to grand missions or ideal conditions. His plans unfold precisely within our current place, pace, and profession.

Today’s reading from Bob Hoekstra highlights the vast difference between the old covenant, which was based on man’s promises to God, and the new covenant, which rests entirely on God’s promises to man. The people of Israel, with the best of intentions, promised obedience: “All that the Lord has spoken we will do.” Yet history revealed their repeated failure. Their zeal could not uphold the law, because human strength is not enough to meet God’s perfect standards.

Oswald Chambers invites us into the quiet unveiling of a truth many miss: we often pray with the tone of a bargain rather than the posture of belief. Like Job before his restoration, our prayers can center around ourselves—our pain, our longing, our lack—rather than God’s sufficiency. But there comes a holy after. “After Job had prayed for his friends…” Only then did the Lord restore his fortunes.