Today’s reflection from Bob Hoekstra brings us into the holy dialogue between the Father and His Son—the Messiah, Jesus Christ. Isaiah 42:6 offers a beautiful glimpse into the eternal promises shared within the Godhead before time began. The Father calls His Son in righteousness, promises to uphold Him, and then declares something staggering: “I will give You as a covenant to the people.”

When Isaiah saw the Lord high and lifted up, his first response wasn’t amazement—it was devastation. Not because God condemned him, but because the light of God’s holy presence revealed the exact nature of what was broken inside: “I am a man of unclean lips.” The clarity wasn’t general guilt—it was specific. God didn’t shame Isaiah; He unveiled what needed cleansing so He could touch it with purifying grace.

There is a quiet yet thrilling assurance in today’s reading from Miles Stanford: we are not only saved by grace, but we are kept by the One who saved us. H.A. Ironside reminds us that our journey in Christ doesn't end with forgiveness—it culminates in an unshakable promise of being found unimpeachable in the day of Christ. That word—unimpeachable—says more than "not guilty." It says no accusation can stick. No charge will stand. Because Jesus didn’t just cover our sins; He positioned Himself between us and every failure.

The miraculous moment at Pentecost wasn’t just about spectacle—it was about understanding. When the Holy Spirit filled the disciples, they spoke not in mysterious, indecipherable sounds, but in the actual dialects of the people gathered from across the known world. Each person heard the wonders of God in their own native tongue. This wasn’t confusion—it was clarity.

Genesis 15 is a pivotal chapter of divine assurance. For the first time, we hear a personal dialogue between the Lord and Abram. The promises God made in earlier chapters now come under Abram’s questioning—not as rebellion but as a vulnerable and honest uncertainty. Abram, childless and aging, wonders who will carry on his lineage. The Lord responds not with rebuke but with reassurance: his heir will come from his own body. To make the promise tangible, God invites Abram to look up and count the stars. The vastness of the sky becomes a mirror of the vastness of God’s intentions. Abram believes Him, and that faith—apart from works, apart from Law—is counted to him as righteousness.

God longed to restore His people, but Israel’s persistent rebellion blocked His healing. Their sins were not just personal, but systemic—flowing from the top down, with leaders setting the tone for deception, violence, and godless alliances. The imagery of a heated oven shows the intensity and secrecy of their plotting. Even their kings—drunk on power and pride—fell one by one, all the while failing to cry out to the Lord.

David begins this psalm surrounded by danger, yet his heart is not gripped by fear. Instead, he rests in confidence—not in himself, but in the Lord. Why? Because the presence of God is more than a comforting concept; to David, it is a fortress, a sanctuary, a place of beauty and safety beyond reach of enemy hands. This trust is not abstract—it’s experiential, forged in the fires of battle and betrayal.

Today’s devotional from E. Stanley Jones draws us into the very core of redemption—not merely as a plan or a transaction, but as the expression of God’s very heart. Jones reminds us that there is no division between the Father and the Son when it comes to the work of salvation. The popular misconception—that God is angry and Jesus intervenes to change His mind—finds no place in Scripture. Instead, we are shown that “in Christ, God was reconciling the world to Himself” (2 Cor. 5:19). They are not at odds; they are one in will, one in love, one in sacrifice.

J.C. Ryle’s reflection on Hebrews 13:5 speaks straight into the heart of anyone who’s ever faced a moment of fear, failure, or finality. His word choice—never—isn’t casual. It’s deliberate, defiant against despair, and full of assurance. We’re reminded that God’s promise, “I will never leave you nor forsake you,” is not a temporary comfort but an eternal truth. This isn’t a verse to visit occasionally—it’s one to cling to, bury deep in the memory, and bring to mind in every storm.

We don’t prove the resurrection of Jesus Christ by reciting a creed, holding a position, or even sacrificing our lives for our beliefs. T. Austin-Sparks reminds us that the only convincing evidence of Christ’s risen Life is that very Life expressed through us. A doctrinal statement, no matter how orthodox or passionately proclaimed, doesn’t prove Christ lives. Even the Scriptures, rightly quoted, are not the proof—because the letter alone cannot communicate Life.

What a radically liberating truth Paul proclaimed that day in Pisidian Antioch! To people who had centered their entire lives around obeying the law of Moses, he announced something completely unexpected: that forgiveness, justification, and freedom from every sin come not through striving to obey the law, but through faith in Jesus Christ. That message didn’t just challenge their understanding—it shattered it.

The resurrection was glorious—but the ascension takes us further still. It isn’t just that Christ rose from the grave; it’s that He rose above all things. Scripture doesn’t just describe the empty tomb—it shows us Christ lifting His hands in blessing, departing not with fanfare, but with tenderness. That image—the quiet rise, the open hands, the final earthly gaze—grounds the truth that His ascension is not some distant event in theological memory. It’s a present and intimate reality for us now.

God has promised a King unlike any the world has ever known. This King does not crush the weary or snuff out the discouraged. Instead, He gently tends to the bruised and the faint-hearted, treating their vulnerability not as a defect, but as a doorway for grace. Jesus is this King—our King—marked by His tender mercy and unstoppable mission to bring justice and restoration.

Oswald Chambers reminds us that true discipleship isn’t about loyalty to a cause—it’s about a surrendered, love-driven devotion to a Person: Jesus Christ. The central issue of following Jesus isn’t our ability to align with doctrines, serve in ministries, or uphold moral codes, but whether we are wholly devoted to Him. It’s personal, not positional.

We often treasure the blessings that come from Christ, but how often do we simply treasure Him? Today’s devotional challenges the subtle tendency to relate to Jesus based on His benefits, rather than His Person. It’s not that enjoying His blessings is wrong—it’s that we can unknowingly stop short of fellowship. Like those in John 6 who followed Jesus because of the loaves, we might admire Him for what He’s done without pressing in to know where He dwells, to simply be with Him.

There’s a quiet joy in knowing Christ personally—like Mary at the tomb or the disciples gathered in a small upper room. That early encounter, that first touch of resurrection life, is sweet and precious. But Pentecost reminds us that the Spirit was never meant to remain a private encounter. He was poured out for something far more expansive.

Paul’s introduction in Titus is not only lengthy but rich with purpose. Writing to his apostolic delegate Titus, Paul emphasizes his own calling as both a servant of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ. This dual identity signals his authority as one sent by Christ, but also his posture of surrender as one devoted to God’s service. Paul outlines the reason for his ministry—to further the faith of God’s elect and to nurture their knowledge of the truth that produces godliness. In this view, the purpose of election is not exclusive favoritism but a calling to a transformed life shaped by divine truth.

Paul’s letter to Titus is a strategic commission—a call to bring order, stability, and integrity to a new and vulnerable community of believers. Titus, a trusted and battle-hardened coworker of Paul, was deployed to Crete, a land steeped in corruption and moral compromise. His mission? To establish godly leadership and nurture sound doctrine in a setting where truth had long been distorted.

Acts 17 shows Paul engaging in bold gospel proclamation in three key locations: Thessalonica, Berea, and Athens. In Thessalonica, Paul reasons from Scripture that Jesus is the Messiah, persuading some Jews and many God-fearing Greeks—though jealousy leads to mob violence and the believers are forced to send him away. In Berea, the Jews are more receptive, eagerly examining the Scriptures daily to confirm Paul’s message—an attitude praised by Luke as noble. But the hostility from Thessalonica follows Paul even there.

It’s easy to believe Romans 8:28 when the day is going smoothly. But what about when we’re “pressed out of measure,” facing circumstances that leave us breathless, bewildered, and unsure which way is forward? John L. Bird lovingly reminds us that even in those moments—especially in those moments—God is not absent. He has not turned His face or withdrawn His hand. Rather, He is drawing us in. Pressed not to break, but to be drawn deeper into trust.