A.B. Simpson reminds us today that the Christian life, especially when lived in deeper union with Christ, is not exempt from warfare—it invites it. As we draw nearer to God, the opposition often grows stronger. The enemy does not waste arrows on those who are not advancing. But for those walking in obedience and singleness of heart, God promises protection.

In today’s reflection, Bob Hoekstra lays out the stark contrast between the inheritance we received from Adam and the one we now enjoy in Christ. Every human begins life under Adam’s headship—spiritually dead, separated from God, and marked by the consequences of sin. But Jesus, the second Man, came as the head of a new family, offering resurrection life and intimate fellowship with God.

Oswald Chambers challenges us to live in a state of constant readiness—not just for the final return of Jesus, but for His unexpected moments of appearing in our daily lives. He isn’t talking about looking toward the clouds for some cosmic return but watching for the often-unannounced arrivals of Christ in the moments we deem ordinary or even chaotic. Chambers warns that we can become so preoccupied—even with Christian service—that we miss these surprise visits from Jesus.

The heart of today’s devotional rests in the breathtaking dual reality of the Cross: Christ died for our sin—and we died with Him unto sin. These are not theological ideas to file away but transformational truths to boldly reckon as reality.

The tyranny of sin once loomed over humanity like an unshakable empire. For the lost, Christ’s sacrificial death paid the full penalty of that tyranny. But for the believer, our union with Him in that same death does something equally radical: it ends sin’s reign over us. We are not merely forgiven; we are freed. The Cross did not only settle our past, it redefined our present.

Today's devotional speaks directly to those entrusted with the care of a household. It reminds us that in God's economy, spiritual leadership isn’t passive—it’s active, confident, and decisive. Joshua's declaration—“As for me and my house, we will serve Jehovah”—wasn’t a mere wish or suggestion. It was a bold stand of faith, anchored in God’s covenant and authority. The devotional encourages heads of households not to wait passively for children or family members to “come around,” but to proclaim and live out the reality that their family belongs to God.

E. Stanley Jones offers a thought-provoking reflection from the short but weighty Epistle of Jude. He notes something absent in this letter: the phrase “in Christ.” While Jesus Christ is certainly mentioned, the prepositions used are “of,” “for,” and “through.” Why no “in”? Jones points to verse 3, where Jude urges believers to contend for the faith once delivered to the saints. This is a call to defend doctrine—something passed down and protected, rather than lived out from within.

Ray Stedman points out a subtle but deeply disruptive pattern in our lives: pessimistic thinking rooted in negative imagination. We often let anxiety over what might happen rob us of peace in the present. By mentally scripting outcomes based on fear or frustration, we become tangled in scenarios that haven't even occurred—and often never will.

A.B. Simpson points us today to a sweet and gentle distinction—a difference not in substance, but in tone. Goodness, he writes, is not merely about being upright or righteous in a moral or ethical sense. It’s deeper than inflexible justice. It’s love in motion. Goodness, as a fruit of the Spirit, is the tender, warm, compassionate outflow of Christ’s life in us. Simpson contrasts the righteous man—who may be granite-like in character and integrity—with the good man, whose life is softened by grace, covered in velvet moss, spring-fed, and flower-draped. The good man is one through whom the loving benevolence of God flows freely—one who rejoices with the joyful, weeps with the brokenhearted, and lives moment by moment in affectionate union with the heart of Christ for others. This goodness is not our own—it is the very character of God being expressed in us. Simpson’s longing is that we would be filled with such divine life, so that this world would be touched by God’s own kindness through us.

Today’s devotional from Bob Hoekstra points us gently but firmly toward the stunning truth that grace isn’t merely a covering—it’s a connection. Not an arm’s-length accommodation, but a permanent union. To be “in Christ” isn’t metaphorical fluff—it’s the spiritual reality for the believer. Just as a fish lives in the ocean and draws life from it, or an unborn child lives in the womb drawing life from the mother, so we live in Christ and draw everything from Him.

Oswald Chambers tenderly confronts the tension we sometimes carry between honoring Jesus in theory and obeying Him in practice. He reminds us that obedience, not debate, is the true mark of loyalty to Christ. The disciples couldn’t reconcile Jesus returning to the place where He had almost been stoned—surely this seemed like a mistake. But Jesus wasn’t confused; they were.

Today’s devotional draws us into a deeper understanding of prayer—not as a monologue of our own desires, but as a Spirit-led conversation that originates in the heart of God. John Follette challenges the idea of throwing up petitions based on human reasoning or emotional fervor. Instead, he emphasizes that true, faith-filled prayer flows from discernment of God’s will, revealed by the Holy Spirit. Citing Ephesians 5:17, he urges us not to be unwise, but to seek understanding of the Lord’s will, even in the content of our prayers.

The writer of today’s devotional draws our attention to something often overlooked in evangelism: the promise of household salvation. God’s heart is not only for individuals, but for entire families to come into the joy of salvation together. From Jesus’ declaration in Luke 19 to the words spoken in Acts to Cornelius and the Philippian jailer, we see a recurring theme—salvation offered not just to one, but to many within the same family unit.

Ezra 9 is a heartfelt account of spiritual compromise and divine mercy. After returning to the land, the leaders of Israel approach Ezra with a devastating report: many among the people, including priests and Levites, have intermarried with surrounding pagan nations, defying the clear command of God in the Law. These unions weren’t just about ethnicity; they brought with them the threat of idolatry and diluted worship, undermining Israel’s holy purpose in redemptive history.

Ezekiel 30 is a thunderous warning—a declaration of the Lord’s coming judgment upon Egypt and all who place their trust in her. Though no exact date marks this prophecy, its message is unmistakably part of God's consistent word through Ezekiel. The Lord proclaims a coming “Day of the Lord”—a time of reckoning for Egypt and her allies. Every corner of the nation, from the far northern Migdol to the southern reaches of Aswan, will feel the blow. This is not just a military downfall but a spiritual one. God will dismantle not only Egypt’s political power but also her religious pride, bringing judgment upon her gods and places of worship—Memphis, Zoan, Thebes, Heliopolis, Bubastis, and more.

Tonight’s passage marks a powerful shift in the flow of Job’s story. After three cycles of speeches from Job and his friends, we now meet a new voice—Elihu. The friends have fallen silent because Job maintains his innocence, and rightly so, at least in regard to the accusations they’ve made. But Job, though righteous in the broader sense, has said things in his pain that miss the mark. Elihu doesn’t accuse Job of sin causing his suffering—that was the friends’ mistake. Rather, Elihu is indignant because Job, in his despair, has questioned God’s justice and misrepresented God's heart.

It’s a question that has troubled many sincere believers—especially those who cherish the simplicity of salvation by grace through faith. How do we reconcile the robust call to good works in the book of James with the message of rest and union in Christ found in Paul’s epistles? Was Martin Luther right to call James “an epistle of straw”? And does E. Stanley Jones agree with him? More critically—do these perspectives suggest that James is teaching a different gospel?

E. Stanley Jones draws our attention to the notable absence of the phrase “in Christ” from the Epistle of James. His observation is not to diminish the truth of James’ exhortations but to contrast two different ways of living the Christian life: one driven by human effort, and the other by divine union.

Worry is not just a modern nuisance—it’s a spiritual issue that Scripture addresses head-on. Paul doesn't offer a mild suggestion; he gives a Spirit-inspired command: “Do not be anxious about anything.” And he doesn't leave us without a path forward. He shows us what to do instead: in every situation—whether ordinary or overwhelming—we are to turn to God in prayer, ongoing petition, and thanksgiving.

Today’s reading from Days of Heaven on Earth turns our eyes toward the unexpected classroom of faith: trials. The devotional opens with Psalm 56:3, where David declares that he puts his trust in God when he is afraid. This isn’t a mere mantra—it's a soul-anchored decision in the face of real danger.

At the heart of the New Covenant is not merely pardon—it’s proximity. We were once at a devastating distance from God. Not metaphorically far, but truly, relationally exiled: without Christ, without hope, and without God. We lived cut off from the life of God, blind to His presence, deaf to His voice.

But then grace came.