The dawn of that first Resurrection Sunday began with sorrow and uncertainty for the women who loved Jesus. Yet, as they approached the tomb, they encountered something far beyond their expectations—a violent earthquake, an angel clothed in dazzling light, and an empty tomb. Their mourning was suddenly interrupted by the greatest announcement in history: "He is not here, for He has risen."

The angel’s rolled-away stone wasn’t to let Jesus out but to let the world in—to witness that death could not hold the Son of God. Jesus had already conquered the grave, fulfilling every word He had spoken. The empty tomb was a public declaration that sin and death had been defeated, and nothing would ever be the same.

Baruch, Jeremiah’s faithful scribe, found himself weary and disillusioned. His dedication to serving alongside Jeremiah had placed him in dangerous situations, from witnessing King Jehoiakim destroy God’s word to hiding from violent threats. His dreams of a peaceful, successful life seemed to crumble as Jerusalem moved closer to destruction.

In response, God didn’t promise Baruch success or comfort. Instead, He reminded Baruch of His sovereignty and the turbulent times ahead. Baruch wasn’t to chase after personal ambition but to trust that God would preserve his life through the chaos.

"Cast your bread upon the waters, for you will find it after many days."
— Ecclesiastes 11:1

Life often feels uncertain and unpredictable. Nations rise and fall, leaders can be wise or foolish, and even our personal plans can unravel without warning. Ecclesiastes speaks to this reality, reminding us that decay and decline are part of life, and neglect can lead to collapse (10:18). Yet, in the midst of this, Scripture invites us not to shrink back in fear but to move forward with trust in God's providence.

"But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be provided for you."
— Matthew 6:33

As 2 Chronicles begins, we see Solomon stepping into his role as king, following in the footsteps of his father David. The transition is smooth and divinely orchestrated, marking the continuation of Israel's "golden age." Solomon’s reign begins not with military conquests or political maneuvers but with worship and a sincere plea for wisdom.

God appears to Solomon and offers him anything he desires. Solomon’s response is striking—he doesn’t ask for wealth, power, or fame. Instead, he asks for wisdom to lead God’s people well. This humble request not only pleases God but also unlocks greater blessings: wisdom, wealth, and honor beyond any other king. Solomon understood that leading God’s people required more than strength or strategy—it required divine insight.

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me."
— Galatians 2:20

In The Green Letters, Miles Stanford highlights one of the most challenging truths in the Christian journey: the need to confront and surrender the self-life. This self-life—rooted in the fallen nature inherited from Adam—is stubborn, self-reliant, and deeply resistant to yielding control. Yet, it must be exposed and surrendered if we are to experience true growth in Christ.

"He will speak to the people for you. He will be your spokesman, and it will be as if you were God to him."
— Exodus 4:16 (BSB)

When God called Moses to lead His people, He appointed Aaron as his spokesman. Yet, God entrusted Moses with an extraordinary role: to stand before Aaron and the people as God’s representative. What a weighty and beautiful calling—to reflect God’s presence to others.

This same calling rests on us today. In our words, actions, and attitudes, we have the opportunity to mirror the heart of God to those around us. This isn’t about perfection or having all the answers, but about living in such close fellowship with Christ that His love naturally flows through us.

In the clamor of life, it’s easy to feel surrounded yet deeply alone. But it’s in this solitude—whether brought on by pain, disappointment, or unexpected change—that God often does His most personal work in us. Like a skilled gardener who must prune branches to allow new growth, God sometimes removes the noise and distractions so that His voice can finally be heard.

Jesus modeled this rhythm of withdrawal and intimacy. While the crowds marveled at His parables, it was only when the disciples were alone with Him that He explained the deeper truths. They needed the quiet of His presence to grasp what the crowds could not.

"Now we know that whatever the law says, it says to those who are under the law, that every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may become guilty before God…For by the law is the knowledge of sin."
— Romans 3:19-20

Imagine standing in a grand courtroom where God Himself is the Judge. The walls echo with unspoken truths, and the law—His perfect and holy standard—stands open for all to see. One by one, every person is called forward. There are no defense attorneys, no loopholes to exploit. The Judge simply asks, "Here is your life; here is My law. Give an account of yourself."

In that moment, every excuse, every justification, and every attempt to explain away our failures vanishes. Silence fills the room. Every mouth is stopped.

Recognizing our sinfulness can be unsettling. Like Peter, we may become overwhelmed when confronted with the depths of our sinful nature. Our instinct is often to fix the visible flaws—those surface-level sins we can see and name. We attempt to patch up behaviors, control impulses, and manage our lives to appear righteous. But this struggle often leaves us frustrated and exhausted because the issue runs much deeper.

Eddie Vedder’s haunting song Jeremy brings to life the heartbreaking story of a boy isolated by neglect, bullying, and deep emotional pain. It's a raw portrayal of suffering—a young soul crying out in silence until that silence is tragically broken. The song confronts us with the consequences of emotional abandonment and bullying, leaving us to reflect on how unseen pain can spiral into irreversible actions.

Imagine a prisoner who has been released from captivity. The chains are off, the cell door stands wide open, and freedom is fully granted. Yet, instead of stepping into the light of freedom, the prisoner lingers in the shadows of the cell, still gripping the cold, broken chains.

This is the picture Paul paints in Romans 6. Through Christ, we have been set free from the bondage of sin, yet how often do we find ourselves reaching back for those broken chains? Paul reminds us that through our union with Jesus in His death and resurrection, we are no longer prisoners to sin. We are free.

In Matthew 27, we witness the culmination of Jesus’ earthly mission—His betrayal, suffering, crucifixion, and death. The chapter presents the most somber and pivotal moment in history: the sinless Son of God willingly giving His life to redeem humanity. Every event, from Judas’s betrayal to the tearing of the temple curtain, is woven together in God’s sovereign plan to reconcile His people to Himself.

In Jeremiah 44, we witness the heartbreaking conclusion of the prophet's ministry—a message met with defiance by the exiled people of Judah. Having fled to Egypt to escape Babylon's destruction, they found themselves returning to the very land from which God had once delivered them. This retreat was more than a change in geography; it symbolized a reversal of trust, moving away from God’s provision and back toward human solutions

Life often feels like walking through a dense fog—each step forward is uncertain, and what lies ahead remains hidden. Ecclesiastes reminds us that no matter how wise or godly we are, life’s outcomes are ultimately in God’s hands. Whether love or hatred seems to drive the events around us, God holds every result (v. 1).

Death is the great equalizer—it comes for everyone, regardless of status or virtue (vv. 2–3). This truth can lead some to live recklessly, trying to outrun the inevitable. Yet, for those who walk in wisdom, it offers a different perspective: each moment we’re given is a one-time gift, unrepeatable and precious (vv. 4–6). No opportunity, once lost, can be reclaimed.

In 1 Chronicles 29:1–9, we see a remarkable display of generosity and unity among God’s people. David, knowing that Solomon was young and inexperienced, reassures him that every resource needed for the temple has been provided. David himself leads the way by giving generously from his personal wealth, inspiring the leaders of Israel to contribute freely and abundantly toward the construction of God’s house. Their willing hearts and open hands ignite joy—not only among the people but in David himself.

This passage reminds us of a vineyard. A single vine cannot produce a harvest on its own, but when each branch yields fruit, the vineyard flourishes. In the same way, when each person brought their gifts for the temple, they became part of something far greater than their individual contributions. Their collective offering was a visible testimony of their devotion to the Lord.

Consecration is often misunderstood in the Christian walk. Many well-meaning believers are caught in a cycle of surrendering and re-surrendering, committing and re-committing, driven by the notion that their love and gratitude for Christ’s sacrifice at Calvary should fuel their devotion. While heartfelt, this approach often leads to frustration and exhaustion because it subtly leans on self-effort rather than on God’s provision in Christ.

Miles Stanford, in The Green Letters, beautifully clarifies that true consecration isn’t about offering God our self-driven efforts but about yielding to Him as those alive from the dead (Romans 6:13). This means we are not presenting our old, self-reliant lives but our new life in Christ.

There’s a quiet beauty in a heart at peace—something deeply desired in a world that constantly stirs anxiety and restlessness. God offers His perfect peace to those who trust Him and remain fixed on Him. This peace is not fleeting or circumstantial but steady and unshakable, flowing from His unwavering presence.

Paul echoes this in Philippians 4:6–7: “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

So often, we stand at the doorway of God’s promises, asking and knocking, yet hesitating to walk through. We pray, we seek, but sometimes we struggle to simply receive what God freely offers. It’s as though we are holding a beautifully wrapped gift in our hands, admiring it, longing to know what’s inside, but never untying the ribbon.

Jesus invites us not just to ask but to receive—to step into the fullness of His will without hesitation. Striving and self-effort can become barriers, keeping us from embracing the very blessings God longs to pour into our lives. He does not ask us to wrestle for His gifts but to take them freely.

In the quiet corners of life, God does His most transformative work. Oswald Chambers reminds us that Jesus doesn’t always explain everything to us immediately. Instead, He patiently guides us, revealing truth when our hearts are ready to receive it. His lessons are not rushed—they unfold slowly, shaping us according to His divine purpose.

Imagine a sculptor standing before a block of marble. From the outside, it looks like an ordinary stone. But the sculptor sees something more. With each careful strike of the chisel, rough edges fall away, and a beautiful figure begins to emerge. The marble cannot shape itself; it must yield to the sculptor’s vision and skill.