Hosea 4 is a sobering courtroom scene where God, as both prosecutor and judge, lays out His charges against Israel. The core issue is spiritual amnesia—God’s people have forgotten Him. This forgetfulness isn’t casual; it results in broken relationships, widespread injustice, and even environmental decay. The priests, who were supposed to model God’s ways and teach His law, have failed miserably. They’ve traded their divine calling for personal gain and indulgence.

Psalm 24 is a majestic celebration of God's ownership of all creation and His triumphant entry into the hearts and places where He is welcomed. Likely written for a temple procession after a military victory, it portrays the scene of the ark of the covenant being ushered back into Jerusalem, accompanied by formal ritual chants between priests and gatekeepers. It begins with the truth that the earth and everything in it belongs to the Lord because He made it all (vv. 1–2). But then the psalm pivots to a serious question: who may ascend the hill of the Lord? Who is worthy to stand in His holy place (vv. 3–6)?

E. Stanley Jones reminds us that only one foundation holds steady: Christ Himself. Not doctrine. Not a beloved preacher. Not even the most reverent worship service. All these can shift like sand, but in Christ, we are firmly established.

He then unpacks four realities that are ours in Christ from 2 Corinthians 1:21–22:

• God establishes us in Christ.

• God commissions us in Christ.

• God seals us with His ownership.

• God gives us His Spirit as a guarantee.

Today’s reflection from His Victorious Indwelling reminds us that Christ’s indwelling presence—though always true—is not always consciously experienced. Turmoil in the soul does not drive Him away, but it does crowd out our awareness of Him. When the heart is at war with fear, anxiety, striving, or inner tension, it becomes difficult to sense the nearness of the One who never leaves.

Solomon’s majestic prayer in 2 Chronicles 6, offered at the dedication of the Jerusalem temple, stands apart as one of the most formal, public prayers recorded in the Old Testament. Set on a special platform before the altar, Solomon’s intercession reflected not only the grandeur of the moment but also the deep awareness of God’s covenant promises to his father, David. Solomon’s prayer reaches across generations, asking for mercy, justice, forgiveness, and restoration—all from the God who keeps covenant with His people.

Today’s reflection from A.B. Simpson calls us to pause and soak in a truth that is too often treated as a distant doctrine instead of a present reality: we are God’s children—right now. Not merely called His children, not symbolically linked, not legally assigned a name without essence—but born of His very life and nature.

Today’s devotional from Day by Day by Grace gently invites us to see that the only promises truly worth making are those rooted in God’s own promises to us. We are not asked to make commitments out of our own strength, nor to summon boldness from sheer willpower. Rather, we are invited to rest in God’s own faithfulness—and from that place, to speak and live with courage.

Oswald Chambers reminds us that while we often attempt to “get through” sorrow, Jesus became acquainted with it—intimate with grief in a way that was not merely emotional but deeply spiritual. He bore grief as the consequence of sin, not only around Him, but laid upon Him. The problem we often face is that we try to make sense of suffering through reason, optimism, or self-improvement, without accounting for the one unyielding disruptor: sin.

Today’s devotional from Abide Above invites us to reflect on the steady, unfailing rest found in the love of God. It contrasts the draining effects of anxiety with the soul-renewing peace that comes from abiding in Christ. When we are driven by fear or fret over life’s pressures—whether relational wounds or financial concerns—we lose spiritual vitality. But Scripture reminds us that anxiety is not from God. He has given us a spirit of power, love, and a sound mind, not fear.

Today’s devotional from Witness Lee takes us to a pivotal truth found in Acts 2:36—Jesus, the man who was crucified, has been made bothLord and Christ. Though He was always divine, eternally existing as God, something new happened in His resurrection and ascension. The eternal Son became the glorified Man who now holds the office of both supreme Possessor (Lord) and commissioned Savior (Christ).

Paul writes to Timothy not only as a mentor but as a man fully aware that his time is short and that the gospel legacy must not end with him. He calls Timothy—and, by extension, every believer—to be strong in the grace found in Christ Jesus, not through personal resolve but through moment-by-moment dependence on God’s provision. The mission is generational: the truth must be faithfully passed down like a treasured inheritance. To capture this, Paul draws on six vivid roles—the soldier, the athlete, the farmer, the worker, the noble vessel, and the servant—each painting a portrait of discipline, focus, endurance, and usefulness in the Master’s hands.

In Iconium, Paul and Barnabas faithfully follow their mission pattern: first the Jews, then the Gentiles, experiencing “good success.” Despite opposition, signs and wonders confirm their message. In Lystra, Paul heals a man disabled from birth—his faith ignited by the gospel leads to restoration. The townspeople, influenced by pagan belief, mistake Paul and Barnabas for gods. Horrified, the apostles tear their garments and urge repentance, proclaiming the living Creator who doesn’t live in man‐made shrines but reveals Himself in creation—even their own understanding of His invisible qualities (cf. Acts 17).

Today’s reflection immerses us in the radiant truth of 2 Corinthians 1:20: “For all the promises of God find their Yes in Him.” E. Stanley Jones invites us to see Jesus not merely as the one who fulfills God’s promises, but as the Yes to every single one of them. Whether the promise is written in nature, inscribed in Scripture, buried in the longings of our soul, or evident in the upward pull of God upon our hearts, Christ is the personal “Yes” of God to it all.

The enemy's traps are rarely obvious—they are subtle, refined, and laced with half-truths, designed not to steal your salvation, but to rob you of the joy and peace that come from your secure position in Christ. The fowler’s snare isn’t laid for the dead or the distant—it is set for the living, the near, the abiding ones. So even the strongest believer must keep watch, relying not on spiritual sharpness of their own, but on the continual anointing of the Spirit to see clearly.

T. Austin-Sparks opens a window for us today—not into a method, a theology, or a spiritual ambition, but into a Person: Jesus Christ, in all His incomparable fullness. The heart of this reflection is simple yet majestic: everything that matters—both now and forever—is bound up in Christ alone. Not partially in us, not something shared equally with others, but exclusively and gloriously found in Him.

Hannah’s longings ran deep. She wanted a son—not just as a symbol of motherhood fulfilled, but as someone to love, to cherish, to guide. For years, she had carried that hope, praying with tearful persistence. But heaven seemed silent.

Today’s reading from A.B. Simpson takes us into the supernatural secret behind Paul’s tireless ministry: he no longer relied on his own strength, but drew daily, moment by moment, from the risen Christ. The same body that was raised from Joseph’s tomb had become, for Paul, not just a doctrinal truth but a present, living source of vitality. Christ was not only his Savior, but his very life.

Not all promises to God are misplaced. While Scripture warns us about the danger of making self-reliant vows—especially those tied to obedience and performance—David shows us a better kind of promise: one rooted in dependence upon God's own faithfulness. In Psalm 18, David says, “I will love You, O LORD” and “I will call upon the LORD.”These aren’t declarations of personal strength but expressions of trust in the God who first loved him, who had faithfully delivered him again and again.

Oswald Chambers brings to light a divine and often overlooked principle: we will be judged by the same measure we use on others. This isn’t just an ethical warning but a spiritual law flowing from the throne of God. Chambers highlights the difference between retribution—a divine balancing of what we give and what we receive—and retaliation, which stems from the flesh.

Today’s reflection from Miles Stanford reminds me that love, when untethered from truth, ceases to reflect the nature of Christ. The devotional sharply contrasts the pitfalls of experience-driven emotionalism on one side and rigid legalism on the other—both of which miss the fullness of Christ as Truth embodied.