In Ezekiel 31, the prophet delivers a poetic allegory just two months before the fall of Jerusalem. Speaking the word of the Lord, Ezekiel holds up the image of a mighty tree—Assyria—as a metaphor to warn Egypt. The Assyrian Empire, once towering in majesty and strength, was envied by all but ultimately brought low because of its pride. Egypt is now compared to this once-glorious tree. The message is clear: no empire, no matter how impressive, is exempt from God’s judgment when its heart is lifted up in arrogance.

In Job 33, Elihu steps in—not to condemn, but to clarify. He urges Job to listen, not to more rebuke, but to reassurance that God has not been silent. Elihu acknowledges Job's confusion, repeating back Job’s belief that God is distant and unresponsive. But Elihu gently refutes that idea. His main point is both pastoral and profound: God does speak, and when He speaks, it is always for the purpose of saving.

In Galatians 3, Paul takes the gloves off with the Galatians. With passionate clarity, he confronts their spiritual regression. They began by faith, receiving the Spirit and witnessing God’s work among them — not by obeying the law, but by believing what they heard. So why were they now living as if the law could perfect what faith had begun?

He reminds them of Abraham — justified by faith long before the law existed. Through Abraham, God promised that the blessing of justification would reach the nations, not through works, but through belief. But Paul doesn’t shy away from the curse that comes with relying on the law. Since the law demands perfect obedience and none can give it, all who cling to it are under a curse. The only escape? Christ. He became a curse for us so we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith.

John 2 marks the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry and highlights two important signs: the transformation of water into wine at a wedding in Cana and the cleansing of the temple in Jerusalem. Both events showcase the arrival of the Messianic age and point beyond the actions themselves to the deeper truths they signify.

Jude’s brief but urgent letter opens with a fiery charge: “Contend for the faith.” Not passively preserve it. Not quietly ignore corruption. But contend—actively stand against distortions of the gospel, especially those that twist God’s grace into an excuse for sin. That kind of boldness is necessary when truth is under siege.

If I’m reading both of these devotionals rightly, there’s a beautiful tension we’re invited to hold. In the Job 32 post, we meet Elihu, a young man moved not by pride or personal offense but by a holy zeal for God’s honor. He doesn’t speak for the sake of being heard. He speaks because he cannot stay silent while God's justice is misrepresented. The Spirit of God fills him with insight that surpasses human status or tradition. It’s a moment of Spirit-filled boldness, where silence would be dishonoring.

Today’s entry from In Christ by E. Stanley Jones brings to light something I’ve witnessed countless times in Christian circles—zeal for defending the faith that somehow misses the heart of the faith itself. Jones takes us to Jude’s call to “contend for the faith once delivered to the saints”—but rather than fueling a posture of argument, he invites us to consider what kind of contending is truly Christ-centered.

Today’s entry from Immeasurably More draws our hearts toward a truer understanding of contentment—not as having everything we want, but as wanting only what we have. Ray Stedman reflects on Paul’s testimony in Philippians 4:12, where the apostle confesses that he learned the secret of contentment. It's not innate. We’re not born with a quiet soul. We grow up striving—reaching for something newer, better, more satisfying—but never quite arriving.

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.