Paul’s prayer in Colossians 1:10 is beautifully comprehensive—it urges believers to live lives that reflect the worth of the One they belong to, to seek His pleasure in every aspect, and to overflow with Spirit-produced fruit in all that they do. This isn’t about striving to earn approval, but living from the deep awareness of who we already are in Christ.

The choices we make each day are not trivial—they reveal the deep currents of our hearts. Today’s devotional from A.B. Simpson reminds us that every decision steers us either toward the things of the Spirit or toward the gravitational pull of the world. It’s not merely about what we say aloud, or how spiritual our words sound, but about what we prefer. What we truly want is laid bare before the Lord.

God made a promise to David that his house and kingdom would be established forever—not just through a lineage of earthly kings, but through One eternal King: the Messiah. The words in 2 Samuel 7 reveal more than national hope for Israel; they unveil the heartbeat of God’s eternal plan to send His Son, Jesus, to reign forever. This kingdom isn’t like the ones of men that crumble and fade. This is a spiritual kingdom, rooted in righteousness, and destined never to end.

When Jesus urged us in Matthew 5:25 to “settle matters quickly with your adversary,” He wasn’t just offering practical advice to avoid conflict—He was calling us into the kind of heart posture that reflects His own: humble, yielded, and quick to restore. Oswald Chambers reminds us that delaying obedience—especially when we’re convinced to make something right—unleashes a slow but certain consequence that touches our spirit, our relationships, and our peace.

Miles Stanford doesn’t mince words. There can be no true experience of Christ’s life flowing through us apart from the Cross. The Cross is not merely Christ’s alone—it is also the doorway into a life where His Spirit can minister through us. Stanford reminds us that no form of church—no technique, no structure, no polished system—can substitute for a life shaped by the Cross. True ministry and true church life don’t emerge from patterns but from people in whom the Cross has done its deep, interior work.

Many believers rightly rejoice over forgiveness, over the cross, over heaven to come. But few recognize that the unique blessing of the gospel is not merely what Christ did for us but what He gives to us—Himself, through the Spirit. Pentecost marked not just the outpouring of power, but the giving of the all-inclusive Spirit—God's own fullness shared with His people.

Paul’s final chapter in 2 Timothy is both sobering and stirring. Aware of his imminent departure from this life, Paul solemnly charges Timothy to preach the Word with courage and consistency, regardless of the cost. This is not just a command—it is a commissioning grounded in the gravity of the coming judgment and the appearing of Christ. Timothy is not to adjust the gospel to fit cultural tastes but to deliver it with integrity, knowing that many will prefer comforting myths over convicting truth. Yet Timothy is called to remain steadfast—to endure hardship, fulfill his ministry, and live with the same eternal perspective that shaped Paul’s own race.

Acts 16 traces a series of Spirit-led movements and divine appointments that highlight God’s sovereign orchestration of the gospel’s advance into Europe. Paul’s missionary team grows as Timothy joins—circumcised not for salvation, but for the sake of Jewish hearers. The Spirit redirects them from their own plans, leading instead to Macedonia through a vision. Lydia, a prosperous merchant, becomes the first recorded convert in Europe, opening her home to support the mission. A demon-possessed girl disrupts the ministry until Paul casts out the spirit, triggering unjust retaliation and imprisonment. Yet even in jail, God moves. An earthquake leads not to escape, but to the jailer’s salvation.

Today’s devotional presented by Nick Harrison offers a blazing contrast between the hollow sparks of worldly pleasure and the abiding joy that is ours in Christ. Whitefield’s voice, though urgent and bold, carries the warmth of someone who has tasted the ache of sin and the sweetness of salvation. He testifies that true joy isn’t found in the fleeting thrills of indulgence, but in the settled peace of knowing Christ lives in us and we are reconciled to God.

Today’s reading from In Christ draws us beyond the positional truth of being “in Christ” and into the transformational reality of becoming “like Christ.” It anchors this transition in 2 Corinthians 3:18, where we behold Christ’s glory and are changed—from the inside out—into His likeness, by the Spirit of the Lord. This isn’t a goal we achieve through spiritual ambition or religious effort. It’s the natural outcome of abiding in Christ and allowing the Spirit to do what He has been sent to do—conform us into the image of the Son.

T. Austin-Sparks invites us to look through a window—a glimpse into the vastness of the Life of Christ. This life is not meant to be dissected intellectually, nor systematized like a curriculum. It is to be lived. The believer does not “figure out” God’s purpose by mapping out their roles and analyzing their gifts in the abstract. Instead, the believer enters the flow of divine life by walking in the Spirit—and the rest unfolds in order, just as the human body naturally breathes and lives without constant mental effort.

Many of us grew up imagining the will of God as a cosmic map—an itinerary we had to decode: where to live, whom to marry, what job to take. But Ray Stedman brings us back to something richer and far more relational: knowing God’s will begins not with finding out what to do, but with learning who we are.

There’s something intimate and transformative about leaning—not just emotionally, but spiritually—on the One who loves us beyond measure. Today’s devotional from A.B. Simpson reflects on the vivid imagery from Song of Solomon 8:5, a soul emerging from the wilderness with her full weight resting on her beloved. It reminds us that Jesus doesn't merely tolerate our dependence; He welcomes it as the evidence of our love.

Discipline from Jesus isn’t a one-size-fits-all rule—it’s deeply personal. The call to cut off your right hand, if it causes you to stumble, is not about external mutilation but internal submission. The hand represents something valuable, perhaps even virtuous to the world, but if it compromises your communion with Christ, it must go.

God never calls us to face spiritual battles in our own strength—He pledges His very presence and power to go before us and fight on our behalf. As He stood with Moses and Joshua in the thick of Israel’s warfare, He now stands with us in ours. These Old Testament assurances aren’t just historical footnotes; they reveal the consistent nature of a God who does not change. What He was to them, He is to us—unchanging, unfailing, ever-near.

Today’s reflection from Miles Stanford calls us to soberly consider how we carry the riches we’ve been given in Christ. Just as the newly rich may fumble under the weight of wealth they don't know how to handle, so can believers mishandle the spiritual riches we possess in Christ—drawing from ministry about Him rather than from Him Himself.

Pentecost wasn’t just a sudden spiritual event—it was the culmination of a divine timeline woven through the feasts of Israel. Fifty days after Christ’s resurrection, the feast of Pentecost fulfilled the typology laid out in Leviticus: from the offering of the first sheaf to the full harvest. Christ, raised from the dead, ascended secretly on the morning of His resurrection—not the visible ascension seen later by His disciples, but a private offering of Himself to the Father as the firstfruit of the harvest. That intimate moment, hidden from human eyes, satisfied the heart of God.

There’s a sobering line Paul wrote to the Corinthians: “We are not, like so many, peddlers of God’s Word…” In E. Stanley Jones’s reflection for today, this phrase slices through the veneer of ministry motives. He contrasts those who peddle God's Word for attention, ego, or livelihood with those who speak in Christ—from a place of sincerity, sentness, and accountability before God.

Jesus doesn’t merely give peace—He gives His peace. Not a substitute, not an approximation. What He enjoyed in perfect union with the Father is now ours in Him. This peace isn’t circumstantial, conditional, or fragile. It’s blood-secured, heaven-ordained, and Spirit-guarded. It unites all things in Him—Jew and Gentile, earth and heaven, sinner and holy God. He Himself is our peace, and in Him we’re not just recipients of calm—we are dwellers in the very realm of peace.

T. Austin-Sparks offers a powerful reminder that life in the Spirit is never passive. If Christ lives in us, then His presence cannot go unnoticed. The Holy Spirit doesn’t simply make us nicer people; He makes us living vessels through which Jesus registers His presence upon the world. Sparks’ bold assertion—that there should be “nothing neutral about any Christian”—is not a call to strive, but a call to yield.