Life with Jesus includes seasons that stretch us. Scripture calls it chastening, which simply means child-training. Our Father is not swinging a stick. He is shaping sons and daughters in union with His Son. The aim is not payback for wrongs. The aim is sharing His holiness as those who belong to Jesus and live by His indwelling life.

Matthew 9 shows Jesus noticing a man everyone else would rather ignore. A tax booth. A simple invitation. Follow Me. Matthew stands and goes, and before the day is over his house is full of guests that polite society calls sinners. Jesus is there at the table, not scolding from the doorway, but reclining with them as a friend.

Proverbs says that as a person thinks in his heart, so is he. Today’s reading reminds me that the heart is the steering center of a life. Desires and choices flow from it. Outward habits may shine for a while, but the hidden person within sets the real direction. That is why God looks there. He sees past the surface and invites us into the inner sanctuary of His presence where Jesus is our life.

Happenings can be sweet, like when friends remember us or circumstances smile. E. Stanley Jones reminds us that happiness leans on those moments, so it rises and falls with the day. Joy is different. Joy rests on a Person, Jesus, so it remains when the day is stormy or still.

We can have the best intentions, the cleanest motives, and the boldest plans, yet still miss the point if we try to offer God a polished version of our old self. Today’s reading from T. Austin-Sparks presses on a sensitive place. He reminds us that the Father has shut the door on the old creation. The Father receives only the life of His Son. That is not harsh. That is mercy. The Son is the only life that truly loves the Father and truly loves people.

When Paul says we were baptized into Christ Jesus, he is not talking about water. He is talking about the Spirit placing us into Jesus Himself. Ray Stedman draws a clear line here. Water never moved a person from Adam to Jesus. Only the Holy Spirit can do that. I am grateful for his clarity because it keeps the spotlight on union with the risen Lord, not on a ceremony.

Waiting is not passive in Isaiah. It is a posture of trust, a steady leaning of the heart on the Lord when our own resources are thin. Bob Hoekstra highlights how the Lord renews those who admit weakness and look up with expectancy. The promise is simple and beautiful. Those who wait on the Lord find fresh strength for the next step, and a quiet stamina for the long road.

Contentment is not about shrinking our lives. It is about trusting that the living God is with us, right here, right now. A. B. Simpson reminds us that the Lord’s nearness is not fragile. Even when we make a mess of things, even when our choices complicate our path, the Father does not abandon His people. He walks with us in the wilderness seasons, and He patiently leads us forward when our hearts turn back to Him.

Prayer in secret is not about hiding from people. It is about turning our eyes from the crowd to the Father who already welcomes us because of Jesus. Chambers reminds us that discipleship wilts when our motives drift toward being seen. The inner room is where humility grows, where we let the noise fall away so our hearts can rest in the gaze of the Father who sees in secret.

We grow best when our eyes are on Jesus, not on our performance. Miles Stanford reminds us that the Holy Spirit always turns our gaze to the Lord Himself. He does not invite us to count our good works, then trust in them. He centers us on the Person who finished the work. When my attention drifts to how well I am doing, I start living on yesterday’s bread. It goes stale. Faith feeds on the living Lord.

Grace always moves first. That is the heartbeat of today’s reading from Matthew 9, where Jesus speaks forgiveness to a paralyzed man, then tells him to rise, take up his bed, and go home. The order matters. Forgiveness is not a reward for walking well. Walking well flows from being forgiven. Witness Lee highlights this so clearly, and I am grateful for the way he keeps our eyes on Jesus and His authority to forgive right here on earth.

Growing up, correction never seemed kind. Most of us argued, compared punishments with our siblings, and insisted it was unfair. Pastor Kristen Schildroth names what time has taught us. Loving correction guards us from greater harm and points us toward life. In the same way, the Lord’s discipline is not payback. It is protection and rescue.

Easter joy is not thin or sentimental. It is radiant because Jesus first gave Himself without reserve. Rev. Kristen Schildroth traces that beautiful thread in John 12. The grain of wheat goes into the ground and dies, then life springs up. Resurrection glory comes through self-giving love. That is the pattern of our Lord, and it becomes the pattern of our life in Him.

We often equate freedom with unlimited options, as if the more choices we keep in our hands, the happier we will be. Pastor Kristen Schildroth turns that idea on its head. Drawing from 1 Corinthians 10, she shows that the abundant life Jesus gives is wonderfully free, yet it comes with a cost. The cost is not a payment to earn life. The cost is the surrender of our self ruled will to the Lord who loves us.

There is a kind of holy attentiveness that opens the door to fellowship with God. Today’s reading from His Victorious Indwelling points to Isaiah 66, where the Lord looks with favor on the one who is humble and contrite in spirit, and who trembles at His word. That trembling is not terror. It is a loving awe that says, Father, Your voice matters most to me.

Anxiety is loud. It grabs our hands, tells us to hold life together, and calls that control. E. Stanley Jones points us back to Philippians 4, where the Father invites us to trade anxious clutching for grateful surrender in prayer. The promise is not a thin calm. It is the peace of God that guards our hearts and our minds in Jesus.

Love is easy to talk about, and hard to practice when someone has crossed a line or worn us out. T. Austin-Sparks points us to Jesus who loved His friends to the uttermost, not as a sentiment, but as a basin and towel kind of love. He knew their weaknesses. He moved toward them anyway. That is the shape of real love.

Grace is not a permission slip, it is a new life. Ray Stedman draws out Paul’s sharp question from Romans 6, asking whether grace means we keep on sinning. That question makes sense at first glance, because if forgiveness is full and free, why worry. But Paul’s answer is a thunderclap. We died to sin. In Jesus, something decisive has already happened at the core of who we are.

God’s vision keeps perfect time. Sometimes His plans bloom quickly, like spring crocuses that appear almost overnight. Other times, the unfolding is slow and quiet. Simpson reminds us that delay is not denial. It is ripening. The Father is never late. He is never hurried. He is never guessing. He moves with a steady love that brings His purpose to full sweetness.

Isaiah sings over tired people. He points us away from the grind of self-reliance and toward the Lord who meets us in our limits. Bob Hoekstra captures this so well, reminding us that real renewal does not come from youth, talent, or drive. It comes from waiting on the Lord. Isaiah 40 says that those who wait on the Lord trade their weariness for new capacity. They mount up, they run, they walk, and they do not quit. That is not a pep talk. That is a promise rooted in who God is and what He gives.