Genesis 8 paints the quiet and holy aftermath of a storm. The floodwaters begin to recede not merely because of natural progression, but because God remembers. This remembrance is not mere recall—it is covenantal faithfulness. Just as the Spirit hovered over the primordial chaos in Genesis 1, so now a wind (the same Hebrew word as “spirit”) moves over the floodwaters, bringing about a new beginning. What was once a judgment becomes a renewal. The world is being re-created.

Hosea is a love story, but not the kind we expect. It is the story of a covenant marriage betrayed and yet—astonishingly—pursued with relentless affection. God, as the faithful husband, binds Himself to a people who persist in spiritual infidelity. And through the heartbreak of His prophet’s own marriage, He paints the divine drama in human terms: Israel’s idolatry is not merely rule-breaking—it is soul-breaking disloyalty. Yet still, God yearns.

Psalm 20 is a community prayer of blessing and trust, uttered before the king leads the army into battle. The people pray that God would remember the king’s offerings and respond favorably, not because of merit, but because of the relationship God initiated with His anointed. The hope expressed is not merely in the strength of armies, but in God’s faithfulness to His purposes. The first half of the psalm (vv. 1–5) is voiced corporately—asking for God to bless the king’s plans and grant victory. In the second half (vv. 6–9), one voice rises—perhaps the king’s or a prophet’s—expressing firm confidence in God’s answer. The contrast is stark: some trust in chariots and horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord.

E. Stanley Jones clarifies a critical truth about what really confirms someone’s calling in Christ—not a lineage of ordination, but the unmistakable fruit of transformed lives. Paul, often questioned about his apostolic authority, doesn’t appeal to a chain of human ceremonies or tradition. He simply says, “You are the seal of my apostleship in the Lord” (1 Corinthians 9:2). His validation is not institutional—it’s incarnational. The evidence of his calling is living and breathing in the changed lives of those to whom he ministered.

Jesus didn’t shrink back from the cross. When He declared, “Father, the hour has come” (John 17:1), it wasn’t a sigh of resignation, but a cry of anticipation. He had long awaited this hour—not as the end, but as the beginning of the fulfillment of all He came to accomplish. Unlike our tendency to see difficult moments as loss or endings, Jesus saw His hour of suffering as a gateway to eternal fruitfulness.

Today's reflection from A.B. Simpson emphasizes that words, though less deliberate than actions, possess a spiritual weight that reverberates beyond time. The writer paints a sobering picture: while deeds may gain attention from others, words rise like vapor before the throne of God. They're not lost to the wind—they’re recorded, preserved, and, one day, revealed.

God has not merely improved the old way—He has replaced it entirely. The first covenant, built on law, had a divine purpose: to expose the need for righteousness and point sinners toward it. But it was never meant to impart life. Instead, it held up a mirror that reflected our inability to fulfill the law’s demands. As good and holy as it was, the law could never justify or sanctify.

Oswald Chambers invites us to confront a subtle but powerful resistance to Jesus: our temperament. We often use personality traits—our preferences, introversion or extroversion, aversions, even our so-called gifts—as excuses to maintain control of how we live. But Jesus doesn’t ask us to offer up what we’re comfortable surrendering. He asks for the one thing we always try to keep—our right to ourselves.

Today’s meditation from Miles Stanford draws our gaze upward and inward, anchoring us in the reality that suffering is not just a season to survive—it’s a sacred thread in the tapestry of transformation. The devotional invites us to see life’s trials not as detours, but as part of God’s deliberate and loving path to conform us into the image of His Son.

The heart of today’s reflection by Witness Lee is simple yet powerful: refreshing doesn’t come from relief in circumstances—it flows from rejoicing in the presence of the Lord. Isaiah points to this refreshment using the image of drawing water from the wells of salvation. It’s not a casual or silent drawing; it's done with joy, even with a strong, audible call upon the Lord’s name.

E. Stanley Jones invites us to pause and consider what true freedom looks like—not in the worldly sense of doing whatever we wish, but in the liberating safety of living in the Lord. Reflecting on Paul’s instruction in 1 Corinthians 7:39, he points out that even our personal desires, such as the desire to remarry, must remain guarded by this phrase: only in the Lord. Within that boundary lies both blessing and security, even if not always immediate happiness.

It’s easy to read Jesus’ words—“ask anything in My name and I will do it”—as if He’s handing us a blank check. But our hearts instinctively know it can’t mean asking for anything and everything without boundaries. A Christian athlete praying for sunshine and a Christian farmer praying for rain can’t both receive their wish if Christ’s name is simply a spiritual tagline.

Today’s reflection from A.B. Simpson invites us to fix our eyes on Jesus so intently that His image becomes imprinted upon every facet of our lives. Just as those Greeks approached Philip with a sincere longing—“Sir, we want to see Jesus”—we too are drawn by the Spirit into deeper vision, one that alters how we perceive everything else.

Today’s devotional from Bob Hoekstra reminds us that the Christian life begins by grace and continues by grace—not by effort, striving, or willpower. Paul’s words to the Galatians confront the absurdity of beginning with the Spirit but trying to finish the race with the flesh. The same Spirit who brought us new life is the One who grows that life within us.

Oswald Chambers invites us into the simple, stunning reality of abiding with Christ—not for a moment, not even just a day, but continually. Many of us begin well—we hear Jesus say, “Come,” and we do. We enter into sweet fellowship with Him. But then life interrupts. Worries press in, self-focus returns, and the nearness of Christ seems to drift into the background. Chambers reminds us that abiding in Christ is not situational—it’s unconditional. No life circumstance excludes His presence. He is the One who makes His home in us.

Many believers have never tasted the simplicity and joy of enjoying the Lord—not merely knowing about Him, but delighting in His presence moment by moment. Today’s devotional from Witness Lee invites us into this refreshing reality: that we can experience peace, release, and joy simply by calling on the name of the Lord Jesus.

When we first awaken to the seriousness of our call as Christ-followers, it’s common to grieve over how feeble our love for Him seems. We want to love Him more purely, more faithfully, more consistently—but we discover our love is often selfish, distracted, and weak. Yet the answer is not in trying harder to love Him more. It is in resting deeper in the truth of His great love for us.

E. Stanley Jones takes us to 1 Corinthians 7:21–22 to unveil a liberating truth: in Christ, every believer is called. Not just pastors, missionaries, or those in formal ministry—but every man, woman, and child indwelt by Christ carries a divine calling. Even a slave in Paul’s day was not without purpose, for he was “called in the Lord.” This calling sanctifies even the most mundane or constrained earthly circumstance.

Ray Stedman reminds us that the fullness of Jesus Christ is not revealed in isolated believers, but through shared life in the Body of Christ. The promise of “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I with them” (Matthew 18:20) isn’t about quantity, status, or visibility. It’s about presence—Christ’s presence manifesting through unity, humility, and shared dependence on Him.

Today’s reflection from A.B. Simpson reminds me that life truly shifts when Christ becomes not only our Savior but our energizing source. The psalmist paints a picture of divine vigor—“the dew of Your youth”—fresh, invincible, radiant with early-morning readiness. It’s a call to behold Jesus in His victorious glory, so vibrant and alive that weariness and small frustrations lose their power to distract.