Unity in the church matters because Jesus has already made us one in Himself. Ray Stedman reminds us that the ground of our togetherness is not a brand, a style, or a personality, it is the name of Jesus. We share His life. We belong to one Lord. That is why division cuts so deeply, it disagrees with who we already are in Him.

We chase greatness in so many ways, yet Jesus draws a small child into the circle and says, this is the picture. The way up in My kingdom is down. The door is low, so we stoop to enter. That is not a put down of your worth, it is an embrace of reality, God is great, and we thrive when we take the child’s place with Him.

God told Israel that the Levites would not receive a slice of land, they would receive Him. Joshua 13:33 says that the Lord Himself was their inheritance. That picture steadies my heart today. It is one thing to receive many good things from the Lord. It is another to discover that the Lord Jesus is the thing, our portion, our life, our peace. Thank you, A. B. Simpson, for stirring this reminder that the Christian life is not mainly about getting more from Christ, it is about living from Christ who is within.

Most of us love the mountaintop. It looks clear. It sounds inspiring. It feels like faith should always be that bright. Oswald Chambers reminds us that real life with Jesus is proved in the valley. After vision comes a hallway of ordinary tasks. After applause comes a sink full of dishes. The Lord who met us on the height goes with us into the humbling place where faith is not a story we tell, but a life He lives through us.

Affliction is never wasted in the hands of the Father of mercies. Miles Stanford reminds us that suffering is not a detour from life in Jesus, it is often the place where we discover more of the Father’s heart, the nearness of the Spirit, and the steady life of Jesus within us. Some saints even look back on long seasons of weakness as gain, since they came to know the Lord’s tenderness and the love of His people in richer ways than ease could ever provide.

We often feel the tug to manage everything, to shoulder every expectation, and to prove ourselves useful to God. Then we reach Matthew 11:28-30 and hear Jesus invite us to come, to take His yoke, and to find rest. Witness Lee’s insight helped me slow down today. He explains that the Lord’s yoke is not an extra layer of demands. It is the Father’s will carried with Jesus, not for Jesus. Rest is not a nap from responsibility. It is the peace and satisfaction of walking in step with the Son who already pleased the Father.

There is a daily tug to stare at ourselves, to measure progress, and to replay old struggles. T. Austin-Sparks invites us to shift our gaze. He reminds us that the Spirit turns our attention from self to Jesus, not to ignore our lives, but to let the life of the Son define who we are and how we live. Thank you, T. Austin-Sparks, for calling us to look away from self-management and to look unto the Firstborn.

There is a clear theme running through Bob Hoekstra’s reflection. God pours out grace upon those who walk low before Him, and He opposes the posture of pride. Proverbs says it plainly, surely He scorns the scornful, but gives grace to the humble. The Lord is not harsh or petty. He is holy and kind. He refuses to endorse arrogance, and He delights to draw near to the one who bows the heart.

Paul writes that God is faithful, and that He has called us into fellowship with His Son. Ray Stedman reminds us that this is not a slogan, it is the center of the Christian life. The church in Corinth had many gifts and much activity, yet they were missing the simple wonder of living each day in shared life with Jesus. When that awareness fades, trouble grows. When it returns, hearts are steadied and love begins to move.

Ephesians 2:7 says that in the coming ages God will display the surpassing riches of His grace in His kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. That is not distant theory. It is a promise that reaches into today and steadies our steps. A. B. Simpson invites us to see our present lessons as preparation for a future that is far weightier with glory than we can yet imagine. Thank you, Dr. Simpson, for stirring our hope and lifting our eyes to what God has already purposed in His Son.

There are moments with Jesus that lift us. The view is clear. The heart is quiet. We want to stay there. Oswald Chambers reminds us that the Lord brings us up the mountain for vision, then sends us into the valley for love. The point is not to camp where the air is thin, but to carry what we saw into the ordinary streets where people live and hurt.

There is a quiet relief that comes when we discover that Jesus is not only our Savior, He is also our supply. Miles J. Stanford reminds us that the Father has placed us in His Son and has made full provision there. We are not asked to manufacture wisdom, righteousness, or growth. We are invited to draw from the One who is wisdom for us, righteousness for us, sanctification for us, and redemption for us.

Some days it is easy to praise God when doors open and plans line up. Other days bring misunderstanding, criticism, or a quiet no that stings. Today’s reading from eManna, drawn from Witness Lee, points us to the posture Jesus modeled in Matthew 11. Cities resisted His ministry, yet He lifted His voice and said yes to the Father. He acknowledged the Father’s wisdom and praised His will. That is not resignation. That is trust from the heart of a Son who knows His Father.

Many of us carry a quiet ache for a pastor’s heart. We long for shepherds who notice, remember, and draw near with the gentleness of Jesus. I hear it from friends often, not a demand for perfection, but a hope for presence. When small follow ups are missed, when attention feels thin, something inside us winces. It seems minor, yet it taps a deep place.

Psalm 119 says the Word is true from the beginning, and every righteous judgment endures forever. Today’s reading gathers three pastoral voices that point us to a simple pairing, the Spirit and the Scriptures together. Thank you, Nick Harrison, for curating a page that brings this home with warmth and clarity.

Comfort is not a theory, it is a Person. Today’s reading opens with Paul’s blessing, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. The devotional presses a gentle question, are we content to say we rest on Scripture while living untouched by the Comforter Himself. Thank you, Nick Harrison, for gathering these voices that keep calling us from bare notions into living fellowship with Jesus by the Spirit.

The world and its desires pass away. John says it plainly. T. Austin-Sparks takes that truth and aims it at our hearts with a tender question, what are we leaning on that cannot last. He points out how the Lord sometimes allows outward supports to be stripped away, not to harm us, but to reveal how much of our confidence rests in earthly order, even good religious order, instead of in Jesus Himself. Thank you, T. Austin-Sparks, for calling us back to what was from the beginning.

Some movements stir crowds, yet leave hearts unchanged. T. Austin-Sparks reminds us that the natural person can analyze, emote, and decide, and still miss the things of the Spirit. I have chased that path before, trying to reason my way into renewal or ride a wave of emotion, only to discover that life in Jesus is not self-generated. Life is received.

Some days it seems like trouble nips at our heels from morning until night. Stedman asks a tender question that steadies the soul, who or what can separate us from the love of Jesus. He walks us through the usual suspects, pressure, lack, danger, even death, and then he lifts our eyes. None of it has the power to pry us out of the Lord’s embrace.

Humility and the fear of the Lord walk hand in hand. Bob Hoekstra points us to that simple path that leads to a full life in Jesus. Not a life built on nervous performance, but a life that grows from deep reverence and steady trust. In the Scriptures we see that humility is not self-disgust. It is the honest acknowledgement that we need the Lord to be the source of everything we are and everything we do.