Some voices are loud in the Christian life. The inner critic. Old regrets. Accusations that say you are disqualified. Today’s reading from Ray Stedman brings us back to Romans 8, where God answers those voices with the finished work of Jesus. Paul looks across his letter and gathers two great realities. God justifies, and Jesus intercedes. That means the courtroom is settled, and the present moment is supplied. We are not rearranging our past with positive thoughts. We are resting in what God has already done in His Son.

Pride always promises elevation, then hands us a heavy coat of shame. Bob Hoekstra points us to a better road, the low path where the Lord pours out grace. Humility is not groveling, it is living in reality, I am not the source, Jesus is. When we take that posture, we discover that wisdom is not far off. It meets us in the ordinary, guiding our words, our choices, our pace.

Song of Songs 2:14 pictures a dove resting in the clefts of the rock, safe and seen. Simpson’s reflection invites us into that shelter, not as a retreat from real life, but as a higher place within it. Thank you, A. B. Simpson, for pointing us to the hidden life with Jesus that lifts our horizon and steadies our steps.

Some of us picked up the idea that God is most honored in church moments, while the rest of life sits in a waiting room. A. B. Simpson points in a different direction. He reminds us that Jesus calls the whole of life holy ground, the kitchen as much as the sanctuary, the job site as much as the prayer corner. Thank you, A. B. Simpson, for the steady reminder that grace belongs in the ordinary.

Some seasons make us measure our lives by output. Oswald Chambers invites us to start somewhere truer, with Jesus Himself. He reminds us that answering God’s call is not signing up for endless tasks, it is being set apart in the Son so that His life flows through us for the sake of others. The shift is not from action to inaction. It is from self-managed effort to the life of abiding in Christ.

Some of us can point to a date on the calendar when ministry stirred awake. Others would say it arrived like dawn, quiet and sure. Oswald Chambers reminds us that the Lord’s call carries a supernatural quality. It is not hype. It is not a resume move. It is the Spirit’s inner Yes to Jesus that begins to shape ordinary days with holy purpose.

There is a simple and steady way to walk through a hard exchange. Jesus shows it in Matthew 11. He is speaking sharp truth to cities that would not receive Him, yet right there, He turns His attention to the Father and says, I praise You, Father, Lord of heaven and earth. The scene is confrontational. The posture is fellowship. Jesus is not thrown off course by resistance. He stays with His Father and honors His wisdom.

Some hearts cheer when Jesus plays the flute of grace. Others stay still. Some soften when He sings a sober song about repentance. Others shrug. Today’s reading sets a gentle mirror in front of us. Jesus came as the wisdom of God and the power of God. He sat with tax collectors and ordinary people. He called both for joy in salvation and sorrow over sin. The invitation was clear. The response was mixed.

We spend a lot of early energy trying to fix ourselves. Miles Stanford invites us to begin on different ground. Scripture says we have died, and our life is hidden with Jesus in God. That is not a call to look inside for death or improvement. It is a call to look to the risen Lord and to live from where the Father has placed us, in His Son.

Christians may hear two different “rules of life” for victory over sin and real transformation:

• Know • Reckon • Yield • Walk — rooted in Romans 6:1–14, popularized by Watchman Nee.

• Present • Depend • Walk — a simple daily rhythm drawing from Romans 6, John 15, and Galatians 5.

These are not rivals. They emphasize different entry points into the same Christ-as-Life reality. Below is a concise exegesis of each, followed by a bridge that shows how they fit together.

We start so many days measuring ourselves by what we get done, then wonder why our hearts still feel thin. Miles J. Stanford points us to a kinder center. He reminds us that in the early stretch of the Christian life, we tend to chase doing, while the Lord patiently draws us into being. Not inactivity, but a life sourced from Jesus Himself. The shift is not from action to apathy, but from self-driven effort to Spirit-expressed life.

God’s promise of rest is not a closed door. It still stands. The writer looks back to Israel’s wilderness story and says that a promise can be near and still not benefit a person if it is not received with faith. This is not a warning meant to drive us into anxiety. It is a gracious call to respond with trust today, because today is when hearts either soften to God’s voice or grow hard.

Paul’s hearing arrives quickly. The high priest and elders bring Tertullus, a polished attorney, to press three charges: that Paul is a public menace, that he stirs sedition, and that he desecrated the temple. The opening flattery aimed at Felix is loud, but the substance is thin. This is not a fair pursuit of truth, it is a political move to silence a witness.

The reading compiled by Nick Harrison centers on John 6, where Jesus calls Himself the bread of life. The call is simple and strong. We grow by what we feed on. Not by nibbling at ideas about God, but by taking in the living Lord Himself. The devotional reminds us that feeding on Jesus is our daily privilege. As we draw near, He fills us with His own life and joy.

Paul describes the aim of ministry as presenting every person mature in the Messiah. He pairs that aim with surprising language. He toils, yet not in the push and strain of the flesh. He works in the power that Jesus energizes within. E. Stanley Jones draws our eyes to that pairing. Real growth does not come from grim effort. It comes from grace at work inside a yielded life.

The disciples needed time before it clicked. Matthew tells us that they finally understood Jesus was not talking about bakery yeast, He was warning them about teaching that puffs people up and pulls hearts off center. T. Austin-Sparks puts a careful light on that warning. He describes how leaven works in teaching that flatters the flesh, swells our sense of importance, and offers a sweetness that soon turns sour. I am grateful for his voice. It helps us slow down, look again at the Lord’s words, and choose the bread that truly nourishes.

Paul’s words in Romans 8:29-30 trace a line that stretches from before the ages into the future unveiling of glory. Ray Stedman highlights these five verbs of God, foreknew, predestined, called, justified, glorified, as God’s steady work that surrounds our tiny timelines. I am grateful for his clarity and pastoral heart, and I want to pass along the same comfort in simple, everyday language.

When the Scriptures that had been shelved were opened in Josiah’s day, the king did not argue with them, he let them read him. He tore his clothes, not to perform, but because his heart was soft before the Lord. Bob Hoekstra highlights this simple posture. When God speaks, a tender heart welcomes the word, and grace follows.

Trials rarely arrive with a smile. They show up wrapped in rough paper, then crowd the doorway like uninvited guests. Brother Simpson reminds us that these very moments are not dead ends, they are doorways. He points us to the promise that our tested faith is more precious than gold, and that what looks like loss can carry us into praise, glory, and honor at the revealing of Jesus.

We all recognize the hunger for a life that is whole, not driven by comparison or perfection chasing. Oswald Chambers points us to the moment when the rich young ruler met Jesus, and the conversation cut through his polished exterior. Chambers is not calling us to performance, he is exposing the deeper issue of ownership. Who holds the keys to my life. The invitation of Jesus is not first to polish ourselves, it is to let go of self rule so that we can walk with Him in a union that defines every other relationship we have.