E. Stanley Jones reflects on the Spirit-lead life of Abraham, the man who dared to leave behind a thriving civilization in obedience to an inner prompting from God. What propelled Abraham out of Ur wasn’t an impulse of restlessness, but a creative urging born of faith—a faith that welcomed and yielded to the Spirit of God.

Psalm 1 opens the Psalter with a bold contrast: a life grounded in God versus a life untethered from Him. The blessed person delights in the Word of the Lord and is compared to a tree intentionally planted near streams of life-giving water. This isn’t random growth—this is placement with purpose. And where God plants, He sustains.

In Genesis 17, God meets Abram after thirteen silent years and does something extraordinary—He reaffirms His covenant, gives Abram and Sarai new names, and introduces a sign that will mark His people forever. Thirteen years since Ishmael’s birth have passed, and there is still no heir of promise. Yet God appears, now calling Himself El Shaddai—God Almighty—the One who is fully able to do what human effort cannot. This name anchors the weight of the promise.

Israel was once a nation set apart, a people called to reflect the character of their God in a world of idolatry and indulgence. But by the time Hosea delivers this ninth chapter, their identity has been exchanged for imitation. Their joyless festivals and polluted worship reveal a people who traded covenant intimacy for alliances with nations and idols. They mingled the sacred with the profane, turning celebration into self-indulgence and worship into empty ritual.

Psalm 29 lifts our eyes to the majesty of God, not just through what He does, but through what He says. This psalm gives voice—literally—to the unmatched power and authority of Yahweh, whose spoken word reverberates across nature, history, and the human heart. David’s poetic imagery takes us through a sweeping storm that begins over the Mediterranean Sea, moves north over the towering trees of Lebanon, and rolls into the dry southern wilderness of Kadesh. At every point, the voice of the LORD is more commanding than the forces it encounters. Seven times we read “the voice of the LORD,” emphasizing its completeness and perfection.

T. Austin-Sparks invites us to look through a simple but striking window: Jesus Christ is far superior to all else. In this short passage, he meditates on Psalm 125, where those who trust in the Lord are compared to Mount Zion—immovable, unshakable, and surrounded by God's protective presence. The imagery is not just poetic; it's deeply instructive.

When Paul arrived in Ephesus, he encountered disciples who had heard about Jesus, but their lives were missing something unmistakable: the evidence of the Holy Spirit’s presence. Paul’s question—“Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you believed?”—wasn’t meant to start a theological debate. It was the Spirit in Paul discerning what was absent, not doctrinally but experientially.

Jesus made a bold and beautiful promise: “I will build My church.” In just five words, He captured the essence of our calling and confidence. First, He is the builder—not us. We may be tools in His hands, but the blueprint, power, and result belong to Him. Just as Paul saw himself laying the foundation by grace, we too serve under the direction of the true Master Builder.

Today’s devotional from AB Simpson reminds us that real joy is found not in being served, but in serving—forgetting ourselves in the lives of others, just as Christ did. He didn’t seek to please Himself, but bore the weight of our offenses out of love and obedience. That same posture—“I am among you as one who serves”—is the posture of heaven.

There are moments in our walk with God when someone or something we have leaned on—trusted in, admired, even cherished—suddenly fades from our life. It might be the passing of a mentor, the unraveling of a relationship, or the collapse of a plan we had pinned our hopes on. These losses can leave us stunned. But according to Oswald Chambers, it’s often through the removal of these “King Uzziahs” that our vision is clarified and we finally see the Lord.

There’s a deep spiritual principle embedded in today’s truth offered by Miles Stanford: we are transformed not by trying harder, but by beholding. As the sun draws the flower to bloom, so Christ draws our hearts upward. His Spirit does the changing—from glory to glory—not by our striving, but as we behold Him in faith through His Word.

When we pray, our natural mindset places God’s answer in the future. We ask, we wait, we hope. But Jesus, in Mark 11:24, doesn't invite us into future expectation—He calls us into present reception: “Believe that you have received them, and you will have them.” The emphasis is not on the eventual outcome but on the faith that embraces God’s provision as already accomplished.

“So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.” —Romans 6:11

Many believers walk through their days weighed down by anxiety, habitual reactions, and spiritual defeat. Often, the longing is not for knowledge—we know what Scripture says—but for experience: to live what we know. One of the most common questions from struggling believers is, “How do I live free in Christ like others seem to?”

Many believers still live as if the Spirit of God must be earned. E. Stanley Jones draws our attention to the silent but persistent striving of those who attempt to “climb the ladder” of spiritual worthiness—through discipline, diligence, or dependence on tradition. The effort is sincere, but the outcome is wearying. At the root of this frustration is a misunderstanding of how the Holy Spirit is received.

Today’s reading from Nick Harrison centers on the quiet but costly power of a broken will—of surrendering not just our decisions but the very engine of self-direction that propels us through life. C.H. Mackintosh draws a striking contrast between the youthful Peter—driven, impulsive, self-willed—and the older Peter—guided, yielded, and willing to go where he once would not.

To be part of God’s covenant people is to be more than chosen or forgiven—it is to be befriended. Today’s devotional from Nick Harrison draws us into the rich biblical truth that God has always desired intimate fellowship with His people. From the earliest promise in Eden, God declared enmity with the serpent, implying friendship with mankind through the coming seed.

Paul’s words in Galatians 2:20 are not merely poetic—they are powerfully practical. E. Stanley Jones lifts this verse out of the Galatian controversy and places it before us not as theological debate, but as a lived reality. The issue wasn’t just justification by faith—it was identity. Is Christ enough, or must something be added? And if Christ is enough, what does it mean to live in that truth?

There are things in the Christian life that only become truly ours through suffering. T. Austin-Sparks shares that those who pass quick judgment on a ministry or fellow believer often do so because they have not borne the cost of laboring in love for that soul or that work. Criticism flows easily when we stand outside of something. But when we’ve been joined to it through tears, prayer, and suffering, our perspective changes entirely.

Paul, bold as we often imagine him, was afraid. The Lord didn’t scold him for his fear—He spoke directly into it. In a night vision, Jesus said, “Stop being afraid… keep on speaking… I am with you… no one will harm you… I have many people in this city.” The Lord didn’t just give comfort—He gave clarity: Paul wasn’t alone, and his work wasn’t in vain

The invitation to consecration isn’t earned by striving or spiritual performance—it’s entered through faith. A.B. Simpson reminds us that the believer’s surrender to God is sealed not by feelings or personal effort, but by trusting the already-given promises of God. We do not need to work up our acceptance or our sanctification. Instead, we take it by faith as already granted in Christ and boldly confess it as our present possession.