The mercy of God is abundant beyond measure, and in that mercy, He has given us new birth—a birth that ushers us into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. This is not mere optimism but an unshakable certainty rooted in the finished work of Christ. We have been justified, declared righteous before God, not by our efforts but through faith in Jesus. His resurrection sealed our redemption, proving that sin was conquered, death was defeated, and eternal life was secured.

Oswald Chambers presents friendship with God as a journey of increasing intimacy. True friendship with Him is not merely sensing His presence in fleeting moments of prayer, but walking in such harmony with Him that our desires align with His will. This kind of relationship brings freedom and delight—where we no longer struggle to discern His will, but move with confidence, knowing that unless He redirects us, we are walking in His purposes.

The journey of Israel from the wilderness to Canaan illustrates a spiritual progression in the believer’s life. While wandering, the Israelites survived on manna—a provision from God that sustained them but did not bring them into the fullness of the land’s abundance. But once they entered Canaan, they ate from the "old corn of the land," representing a deeper, more mature provision directly from God.

An article from eManna presents a fascinating typological interpretation of the ashes of the red heifer in Hebrews 9, emphasizing the eternal and unchanging efficacy of Christ’s redemption. It draws a parallel between the red heifer’s ashes and Christ’s finished work, emphasizing that believers do not need repeated sacrifices but must appropriate the cleansing through faith. My mentor’s question raises an important theological connection: how does this concept relate to 1 John 1:9?

Ezra 5 records a turning point in Israel’s history when, after a decade and a half of stagnation, the people finally resumed rebuilding the temple. The prophetic ministries of Haggai and Zechariah were instrumental in this revival, calling God’s people to repent and step forward in obedience. Haggai, ever direct, confronted their misplaced priorities, asking why they lived in luxurious homes while God’s house lay in ruins (Hag. 1:4). Zechariah’s ministry complemented Haggai’s, offering not only a call to repentance but also a vision of hope—the promise of the Messiah and a future expansion of God’s kingdom.

Tyre, a powerful maritime city-state, rejoiced when Jerusalem fell, seeing it as an opportunity for greater trade and prosperity. But the Lord, who sees the motives of the heart, declared judgment upon Tyre for its arrogance and selfishness. Tyre saw Jerusalem as an obstacle removed, but God saw their pride and would bring them low. Just as He allowed Babylon to overtake Judah, He would send Babylon against Tyre, reducing it from a wealthy center of trade to mere ruins, a place where only fishermen would spread their nets. The city that had navigated the seas so skillfully would find itself overtaken by the very waters it once controlled. Tyre’s downfall would send shockwaves through the nations, a warning to those who place their trust in wealth, power, and human ingenuity rather than in the Lord.

Job 28 presents a striking contrast between human effort to unearth precious metals and the search for wisdom. The chapter opens with a poetic description of mining—one of the earliest in recorded history—highlighting the toil, danger, and ingenuity required to extract gold, silver, iron, and jewels from the depths of the earth. Despite humanity’s ability to uncover hidden riches, the true treasure—wisdom—remains inaccessible by human means.

Pride is often condemned as an enemy of humility, something to be uprooted entirely. But E. Stanley Jones challenges us to consider whether pride can be redeemed. When pride is rooted in an unsurrendered self, it is self-centered and destructive. But when pride is surrendered to Christ, it is transformed into something life-giving—a deep gratitude that boasts in the Lord rather than in self.

The world tells us that self-confidence is the key to success. From childhood, we are trained to trust in our own abilities, to develop skills, to push forward with sheer determination. We are told that our identity is built upon what we accomplish, what we know, and how well we perform. But Paul shatters this illusion, declaring that true spirituality is the exact opposite: we put no confidence in the flesh. Let’s explore what Ray Stedman has to say about this in today’s devotional, Immeasurably More.

When Jesus told Simon Peter to put out into deep water and let down his nets, He was asking for more than a simple act of fishing. He was calling Peter to step beyond the familiar, to move past the shallow waters of self-reliance and into the depths where only faith could sustain him. The Lord often calls us to move forward with what we already know, rather than being paralyzed by uncertainty.

When Jesus stood before the tomb of Lazarus, He wasn’t merely offering hope for a future resurrection. He was declaring Himself as the very source of resurrection life. "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die." (John 11:25-26) Martha saw resurrection as something distant, an event at the end of the age. But Jesus corrected her thinking—resurrection was not just a future hope; it was a present reality in Him.

Faith is not about knowing where we are going—it is about knowing the One who leads us. Abraham’s life exemplifies this truth. When God called him to leave his home, he obeyed without knowing the destination. His faith was not rooted in a plan but in a Person. Today, the separation God calls us to is not always a physical one but a mental and moral distinction from the world. Jesus’ words in Luke 14:26 remind us that our allegiance to Him must surpass even our closest earthly ties.

The grace of God is not merely a doctrine to be understood but a reality to be lived. Our Father, in His infinite kindness, has placed us in eternal union with Christ so that He—not we—may live through us. The Holy Spirit indwells us, not as a mere helper but as the One who operates in and through us. Instead of striving and struggling to live the Christian life by human effort, we are invited to rest in this truth, allowing Christ to be our life and source.

In Part 1 of this series, we explored how the fear of death can be compared to watching a fictional movie of the old self—a false narrative that has no claim on the believer. We saw that setting the mind on Christ is the key to turning off that movie and embracing the reality of our new identity.

But what if someone understands this truth intellectually and still finds themselves drawn back into fear? What if, even after “turning off the movie,” something within them still longs to press play? This raises a deeper question: Why do we sometimes entertain fear, even when we know it’s a lie?

If someone were to ask, “Who is Jesus?” how would you answer? Many would describe Him as the Savior, the Son of God, the Good Shepherd, or the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world. All of these are true, but Scripture provides even deeper, richer descriptions of Christ—portraits so captivating that when we truly see Him, our hearts are drawn into deeper love, trust, and worship.

Life has a way of capturing our attention. Our minds are constantly pulled in different directions—pressures at work, struggles at home, personal failures, the distractions of the world. Even in our spiritual lives, we can find ourselves caught in cycles of striving—trying harder to grow, trying to love God more, trying to fix what’s wrong inside of us. But what if transformation isn’t found in trying at all? What if the key to true spiritual growth isn’t found in our effort, but in where we set our gaze?

Transformation in the Christian life is not achieved through sheer willpower, self-discipline, or external behavioral modification. True transformation happens when we behold Christ. As Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 3:18,

“And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.”

This single verse encapsulates one of the most beautiful and freeing realities of the Christian life: We are transformed not by force, but by beholding Christ.

Joey Parker’s article, Delighting in God’s Word to Remedy Disordered Affections, presents a thoughtful discussion on the necessity of reorienting our affections toward Christ and the role of Scripture in that transformation. The article rightly identifies the insufficiency of mere behavioral modification and emphasizes that true change occurs when our hearts are captivated by something greater than the desires of the world. This principle, famously articulated in Thomas Chalmers’ The Expulsive Power of a New Affection, is a foundational truth in spiritual growth.

Paul’s opponents boasted in their spiritual triumphs and visions, so he turns their pride on its head by boasting in his sufferings. He recounts a vision of paradise so great that it could have tempted him to pride. To counter this, God allowed a “thorn in the flesh,” a torment from Satan, yet sovereignly purposed for Paul’s humility. Paul pleaded for its removal, but the Lord’s response transformed his perspective: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Rather than removing the hardship, God gave Paul more of Himself. This shifted Paul’s entire outlook—he no longer sought to escape the weakness but learned to boast in it, for in his weakness, Christ’s power was most evident.

In Luke 21:5-38, Jesus warns His disciples not to be deceived by external appearances or misled by events that seem to signal the end. The grandeur of the temple, which people took as a sign of God's favor, would be completely destroyed. Likewise, Jesus clarifies that wars, natural disasters, and false messiahs do not necessarily indicate the end of time but are simply part of a fallen world.