Oswald Chambers gently lifts our gaze upward today with Revelation 4:1—“Come up here, and I will show you.” He reminds us that spiritual vision doesn't come from emotion but from a personal life rooted in character—Christ’s character worked out in us. It’s not about striving to see more, but yielding to the One who reveals more as we trust and walk in what He’s already shown us.

Today’s entry from Abide Above invites us into one of the deepest mysteries of the Christian life: how God softens sorrow into something beautiful and eternally meaningful. The writer is not romanticizing pain, but revealing that sorrow, when yielded to God, becomes a divine tool—not to punish us, but to prepare us. The sorrow of the world leads only to despair, but godly sorrow opens the door to transformation, depth, and the ability to walk with others in their pain.

Today’s devotional turns our attention to something so magnificent that words almost fall short: every holy and trustworthy thing God has given us is not just from Christ—it is Christ. He Himself is our righteousness, our sanctification, our redemption, our light, our wisdom, and our life. Every term we read in Scripture—like bread of life, living water, Shepherd, spiritual rock, Passover Lamb—is not an object or a gift apart from Him. It is a facet of the person of Jesus given to us as mercy.

Paul begins this chapter by recounting his second trip to Jerusalem, likely 14 years after his conversion. The occasion was not about gaining approval but ensuring unity in the gospel message he had been preaching. The Jerusalem apostles—James, Peter, and John—recognized Paul’s ministry to the Gentiles as divinely ordained and gave him their blessing. Importantly, they did not compel Titus, a Gentile, to be circumcised, confirming that justification comes through faith in Christ alone, not by law-keeping.

John's Gospel opens with breathtaking clarity—Jesus is not just a teacher, prophet, or even a great man. He is the eternal Word who was with God and is God. John doesn’t ease us in gently—he unveils the divine mystery from the start: Jesus is the Light of the world, the Creator of all things, the One through whom life itself exists. This Word, full of grace and truth, became flesh and dwelt among us—not as a shadow or symbol, but in personal, relational presence.

In today’s reflection, E. Stanley Jones explores a crucial distinction: is Christianity merely being with Christ, or truly being in Christ? He presses into this by examining the phrase “in Christ,” most heavily emphasized by the Apostle Paul but certainly not exclusive to him. The weight of Paul’s usage—97 times—compels us to take this reality seriously. Jones emphasizes that this is not merely a Pauline idea or a theological abstraction—it is the only real state of being. Compared to this, all else is illusion.

Philippians 4:2 – “I plead with Euodia and I plead with Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord.”

From today’s Immeasurably More devotional by Ray Stedman, we see a gentle yet urgent appeal from Paul that cuts straight to the heart of relational tension. Two women—Euodia and Syntyche—were caught in a disagreement that had begun to affect the broader church in Philippi. Paul doesn’t shame them or take sides. Instead, he calls them back to their common ground in Christ and urges them to agree in the Lord.

Today’s entry from Heaven on Earth points us back to the simplicity and power of grace—reminding us that our journey with Christ is never meant to be sustained by personal effort. We often understand that salvation begins by faith, but somewhere along the road, we begin to operate as if growth depends on us. Simpson gently corrects this: at every stage of our walk, our strength will fall short, our love will be insufficient, and even our courage will fade unless we receive from Christ what only He can supply.

The heart of this devotional speaks to a stark contrast—between those who live by dead religion and those who walk in the living reality of Christ's resurrection. The religious leaders in Acts were deeply disturbed not by mere words, but by the power of a risen Christ being declared through His disciples. These men weren’t teaching abstract doctrine or defending tradition—they were living out and proclaiming the supernatural reality of Jesus’s resurrection. And that supernatural reality remains the bedrock of our faith.

Oswald Chambers wants us to understand that purity isn't merely the innocence of one untouched by sin—it’s the radiant byproduct of an ongoing, intimate walk with Jesus. True purity grows from closeness with God and is sustained over time through that fellowship. He differentiates between our private life with God, which may be vibrant and authentic, and our outward expression of that life, which is exposed to the world and subject to distraction, compromise, or carelessness.

This morning’s reflection from Abide Above centers on how we respond to suffering, especially when it's undeserved. The writer draws our attention to Peter’s words—how God finds it pleasing when we endure injustice for His sake. But the deeper insight is this: when we try to respond rightly by our own strength, our reaction—even if it appears noble—only produces self-righteousness. It’s not Christ being seen, but self polishing itself up.

Today’s eManna devotional opens our eyes to a deep and comforting truth: Christ is not merely the One who gives holy and faithful things—He is those things. He doesn’t just grant wisdom; He is wisdom. He doesn’t merely distribute sanctification; He is sanctification. The devotional draws a long list of what Christ is for us, primarily from 1 Corinthians and the Gospel of John, emphasizing that He is everything we need. And in the Old Testament, these realities were prophetically pictured as “mercies”—a term that surpasses even love and grace. Mercy reaches where love and grace alone cannot go. So when we encounter our need, we do not cry out for something external. We receive Christ, who is the mercy reaching into every crack and crevice of our condition. He is the mercy that doesn't just patch up our lives but indwells us to be our righteousness, redemption, power, food, drink, and life.

Ezra’s first-person account in chapter 8 reads like a personal journal of a spiritual leader entrusted with something deeply sacred. As Ezra gathers those willing to return from Babylon to Jerusalem, we see not just a logistical expedition but a journey of faith, community, and consecration. The list of names, though easily overlooked, reminds us that God moves through actual people—each with a name, story, and calling. These were not random travelers; they were twelve family groups, echoing Israel’s tribal identity, and some had deep ancestral significance—including a descendant of David, a subtle thread pointing to God’s enduring covenant.

God gave Ezekiel a series of messages to pronounce judgment on the surrounding nations—and in this chapter, Egypt takes center stage. Egypt, with its long and complex history with Israel, is now exposed for its pride and unreliability. The Lord reminds His people that Egypt was never a trustworthy ally. Despite their mighty river, military pride, and royal arrogance—embodied in Pharaoh’s absurd self-declaration that he created the Nile—the truth is clear: Egypt is not God. Their support was a broken reed. Judah’s trust in Pharaoh was misdirected, and God uses this to reveal an age-old lesson: only the Lord is worthy of our dependence.

In Job 31, we hear the voice of a man standing before God with a clear conscience—not claiming to be sinless, but to be sincere. This is Job’s final defense. He has suffered unimaginably, been misjudged by friends, and now he reviews his life not with bitterness but with boldness.

E. Stanley Jones brings us to linger on the truth that being “in Christ” is not just a beautiful phrase—it is the deepest reality for every believer. It’s not a metaphor, not a lofty spiritual ideal, not a poetic way of speaking—it’s fact. Just as being in a country brings one under its laws, atmosphere, and identity, so being in Christ brings one into alignment with His Spirit, His attitudes, His authority, and His resources.

Ray Stedman’s devotional invites us into a beautiful paradox—one that seems like a contradiction at first glance, but becomes a portrait of abiding life in Christ once properly understood. In Philippians 3, Paul compares the Christian life to a race: something fast-paced, filled with obstacles and forward motion. But just a few verses later, he urges us in chapter 4:1 to “stand firm.” How can we do both—run and stand?

Today’s devotional points us to the beauty of holiness—true holiness. Simpson draws a distinction between a bare, hardened kind of piety and the radiant, Spirit-filled life that reflects the loveliness of Christ. He cautions against a type of sanctification that feels like a skeleton—harsh and rigid—devoid of the warmth and life that real holiness brings. There is a difference between what is merely “just” and what is “lovely and of good report.”

In today’s reflection, Bob Hoekstra continues to explore how the resurrection of Christ affects our present walk, not just our future hope. He points out that Paul’s desire in Philippians 3:10–11 wasn’t simply to participate in the future resurrection of the body—something already secured by faith—but to know Christ so deeply that His resurrection life would be experientially expressed in the here and now.

Oswald Chambers is pointing to a vital but often overlooked truth: holiness that truly reflects Christ does not draw people to us—it draws them to Him. Our calling is not to showcase our own transformation or virtue, but to be transparent vessels, loyal friends of the Bridegroom, who usher others into His presence. Just as John the Baptist refused to draw attention to himself and rejoiced in decreasing so that Jesus might increase, so should we.