Have you ever thought about what it means for God to need absolutely nothing? It’s a mind-bending concept. Everything in our world relies on something else to survive—plants need sunlight, we need food and water, and even our hearts need oxygen to keep beating. But God stands alone, completely self-sufficient, needing nothing and no one to sustain Him.

In Chapter 6 of The Knowledge of the Holy, A.W. Tozer delves into the incredible truth of God’s self-sufficiency. This truth humbles us, confronts our self-centered tendencies, and invites us into a deeper understanding of God’s greatness and grace. Let’s explore what it means for God to be self-sufficient and how this reality changes the way we see Him and ourselves.

The story of Job is one of the most wonderfully complex narratives in all of Scripture, and the dialogues within it continue to challenge us today. We often focus on Job’s three friends—Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar—who misrepresented God and received a stern rebuke for it (Job 42:7-9). But what about Elihu? His speech stands out as different, yet God does not acknowledge him in His final response.

Here’s the intriguing thought: Elihu speaks more about God than for God. While his words are filled with truth about God’s greatness and justice, Elihu still seems preoccupied with explaining Job’s suffering rather than truly leading Job back to God.

This distinction is worth exploring: Are we speaking about God—defending, analyzing, or explaining Him—or are we truly representing Him, pointing others into His presence?

When we think of the book of Job, we often focus on Job’s three friends—Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar—and how their well-meaning yet flawed counsel misrepresented God. By the end of the story, God rebukes them for their words: “You have not spoken of Me what is right” (Job 42:7).

But there’s another voice in Job’s story, one that often gets overlooked: Elihu. This younger man steps in after Job and his three friends have exhausted their arguments. He speaks for six chapters (Job 32–37), yet when God finally addresses Job and his situation, Elihu’s words go unacknowledged. God neither rebukes him nor affirms him.

So, who was Elihu, and what do we make of his counsel? Was he wise, misguided, or somewhere in between?

I was talking with a friend tonight about Job’s three friends and the counsel they gave him. On the surface, much of what they said sounds like good advice—wise, moral, even rooted in Scripture-like principles. But as we know from the conclusion of Job’s story, God was displeased with their words. Why? Because they misrepresented Him. Their counsel, though seemingly “right,” lacked a true understanding of God’s character, His purposes, and His grace.

Today’s Abide Above devotional, “Unwarranted Disappointment,” struck a chord with me in ways I didn’t expect. I’ve been reflecting lately on how easy it is to slip into self-effort, even without realizing it—setting expectations for ourselves that inevitably end in disappointment. The reminder in today’s devotional was both refreshing and convicting: self-disappointment comes from expecting something good from the flesh, rather than leaning fully on the grace of God and the indwelling life of Christ.

Have you ever stopped to think about how everything around us has a beginning? Trees grow from seeds, rivers flow from springs, and even you and I were born at a specific time. Everything we know has an origin—except for God.

In Chapter 5 of The Knowledge of the Holy, A.W. Tozer talks about an amazing truth: God has no origin. He is the one who has always existed and who depends on no one. This idea is hard to understand because it’s completely different from how we see the world. But it’s also a truth that can change the way we see God and ourselves.

This poem is written in honor of a precious brother in Christ whose life has been a radiant testimony of unwavering focus on Jesus. Inspired by book we are currently reviewing in this blog, A.W. Tozer’s Knowledge of the Holy, the poem weaves together Tozer’s reflections on God’s attributes. Each stanza explores a unique aspect of God’s nature, drawing us deeper into awe, love, and trust. The poem builds with an expectancy that mirrors our own journeys of faith—beginning with glimpses of His majesty through the mists of life’s trials and culminating in the joy of finally seeing Him in all His splendor.

“He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?…What do you have that you did not receive? Now if you did indeed receive it, why do you glory as if you had not received it?” (Romans 8:32 and 1 Corinthians 4:7)

God’s grace is breathtaking. It’s through this grace that He rescues and transforms lives. At the heart of His plan is the sacrifice of His Son: “He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all.” If God didn’t hold back His greatest gift, how could He not also graciously give us everything we need? “How shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?”

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ." (Ephesians 1:3a)

The measure of our growth comes from where we fix our gaze. When our focus rests on Jesus, everything else in life—its joys, trials, and uncertainties—finds its proper place. This truth takes on deeper meaning when we watch someone we love live it out so faithfully, even in the face of life’s hardest moments.

After reflecting deeply on my recent post about the Prodigal Son, I felt compelled to dive further into a subject that resonates so personally: the ache of lost time in our relationship with God. Have you ever looked back on your life and felt the heavy weight of seasons spent striving, wandering, or missing the richness of God’s presence? I have, and it’s a feeling that cuts deep.

Have you ever witnessed an artist transcend their craft? A musician, for example, who consistently delivers excellence but occasionally reaches a level so extraordinary that it leaves you speechless. Listening to Stevie Ray Vaughan’s rendition of Little Wing by Jimi Hendrix reminds me of this. His usual brilliance as a guitarist is undeniable, but there are moments when his music becomes something more—a full expression of his soul through his instrument, lifting the listener into a space that feels otherworldly.

“Therefore the Lord will wait, that He may be gracious to you” (Isaiah 30:18).

Reflecting on today’s Abide Above devotional, I was reminded of the beauty and challenge of waiting on the Lord. Waiting is not a passive endurance but an active, expectant trust—a quiet confidence in the unchanging goodness and faithfulness of God. Yet, how often do we grow weary in the waiting? How easily do we grasp for control, forgetting that He is fully sufficient and always at work?

Have you ever paused to wonder why Jesus told the story of the Prodigal Son? Was it simply to highlight the joy of a sinner returning home? Or is there a deeper message—one about the heart of the Father that we, like both sons, often fail to see?

Have you ever paused to consider just how much God has already given you in Christ? I mean, really stopped to reflect on it? Sometimes, I think we approach God as if we’re still empty-handed, as though we need to beg Him for blessings or plead for His help. But Scripture paints a very different picture—one of a loving Father who has already lavished every spiritual blessing on us through His Son, Jesus Christ.

Have you ever tried to wrap your mind around the concept of the Trinity? If you’re anything like me, you may have found yourself both awestruck and overwhelmed. To me, it feels like staring into the vast night sky, trying to comprehend the infinite universe—it’s awe-inspiring yet utterly beyond my grasp. The truth that God is one being yet three Persons—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—challenges everything we know about existence. And yet, this wonderful truth isn’t meant to be fully understood; it’s meant to draw us into worship. For me, it certainly does.

Eddie Vedder’s powerful performance of Alive during MTV Unplugged has captivated listeners for years. The raw vulnerability in his lyrics speaks to deep human struggles—identity, rejection, pain, and survival. For me, this song held particular meaning during a season of deep depression. Listening to it, I found a strange kind of solace in hearing someone articulate hurt and inner pain. While my experiences didn’t mirror his exactly, the heartfelt performance resonated deeply. It reminded me that I wasn’t alone in my struggles and that others were wrestling with their own weighty questions of existence and purpose.

During my time in active duty with the Army, I had the privilege of serving in an airborne unit that provided health care support to some of the most elite special forces soldiers in our country. These weren’t just soldiers—they were brothers and sisters in arms, a tightly-knit family committed to each other with a selflessness and devotion that few outside the military ever experience. Their singular focus was on being ready at all times, not just for their own sake, but for the sake of their team, their mission, and their country.

Have you ever been captivated by the allure of a mystery? The kind that stirs your curiosity, demanding answers yet never fully revealing its secrets? As believers, we often find ourselves drawn to the enigmatic corners of Scripture—the Nephilim, the hidden patterns of prophecy, the awe-inspiring imagery of Revelation. These themes ignite our imagination and fuel endless discussions.

But in the quiet of my soul, I’ve come to wonder: do we sometimes cling to these mysteries to avoid the deeper, often more challenging, work God longs to do in us?

Parenting can be one of the most fulfilling yet challenging roles in life. As parents, we often find ourselves striving to guide our children with wisdom, love, and good intentions, yet we can also experience moments of frustration, especially when our efforts seem to fall short. Perhaps your child refuses to listen, or their choices bring heartache. These moments are an invitation to pause and reflect—not on our inadequacy but on the sufficiency of Christ working in and through us.

In Chapter 3 of The Knowledge of the Holy, A.W. Tozer takes us on a journey into the attributes of God—truths about who He is. These aren’t mere facts or traits as we might think about human characteristics. Instead, they reveal how God is. They are glimpses into His nature, made known to us so we might worship and know Him more deeply.