The opening of Ephesians is a triumphant declaration of God’s eternal plan, flowing out from His loving initiative, not our merit. Paul reminds the saints—those set apart in Christ—that all spiritual blessings come through our union with Him. From before creation, the Father chose us in love, destined us to adoption, and willed that we reflect the holiness of His Son. His goal wasn’t merely to forgive us but to form us into Christ’s likeness for the praise of His glorious grace.

John 6 is a chapter of sweeping theological and redemptive themes, woven together through a tapestry of signs, conversations, and claims that reveal Jesus not just as a provider of physical needs but as the true Bread from heaven who gives eternal life. The Passover backdrop evokes images of deliverance from Egypt, manna from heaven, and water from the rock—all pointing to Jesus as the fulfillment of those ancient shadows.

The introduction to Ephesians lays a deep and rich foundation for understanding our identity in Christ, the unity of believers, and the call to holiness that flows from who we are, not what we do. Paul writes this letter from prison, not as a man discouraged by chains but as one enthralled by the freedom found in Christ. From this place of confinement, he speaks about union, unity, and upright living with more clarity and authority than many from the heights of their freedom.

E. Stanley Jones invites us to reflect deeply on a truth that is often passed over with little thought—Christ not only places us in Himself, but He also places Himself in us. We can understand the beauty of abiding in Him. After all, He is holy, divine, the source of life, the place we were made to dwell. It makes sense that we would be drawn to Him. But the deeper mystery is this: that He chooses to dwell in us.

Ray Stedman draws our attention to an often-overlooked instruction in Leviticus 7:15 about the peace offering. When someone brought a thanksgiving offering, the meat was to be consumed on the same day—no leftovers allowed. If any was left for the third day, it had to be destroyed. That might seem like a strange dietary rule, but it reflects something deeper: God was communicating a truth about immediacy and dependence.

When the Spirit begins renewing our minds and guiding our steps, one of the first areas we experience tension is in relationships — especially when we feel the pull to say yes to every request, or guilt when we feel led to say no.

Sometimes the hardest decisions in life aren’t between right and wrong — they’re between two good things. A job that offers more opportunity or one that brings more peace? A conversation that might heal or one that might stir conflict? A decision to stay or to move forward?

Conflict is unavoidable — even among those who love Jesus. But how we respond to it reveals whether we are functioning from the old life in Adam or from our new life in Christ.

So far, we’ve traced the journey inward — the nearness of the Father, the voice of the Spirit, the renewing of our minds. But here’s where the fruit begins to blossom: our relationships change too. Not because we try harder to love, but because we begin to love from overflow, not obligation.

Once we begin to discern the Spirit’s voice and trust His nearness, we soon realize something else happening within us — our thoughts begin to shift. That’s not accidental. That’s transformation.

After understanding that we are welcomed into intimate fellowship with the Father through Christ and that the Spirit makes that relationship experientially real, the next question often arises: How can I know when it’s the Spirit speaking to me?

The first step experiencing the Father’s love through the Spirit is realizing that we’ve been brought into fellowship with the Father through the Son. But what then? What about the ordinary, weary moments of the day? What about when God’s love seems far off or theoretical?

Many believers find themselves aching for a real, personal relationship with the Father, only to be confused by language that makes it sound as if the Father stands aloof — as if Jesus somehow shields us from a God too holy to be near. But this idea doesn't align with the heartbeat of Scripture.

Today’s reflection draws from Acts 17:28: In Him we live and move and have our being. A.B. Simpson gently exposes a common spiritual shortfall—not in belief or effort, but in intimacy. He illustrates this with the story of Elisha and the lifeless boy. Elisha’s staff—representing delegated power—could not revive the child. It required personal, embodied union—Elisha’s life pressing against the child’s lifeless form, heart to heart, mouth to mouth.

Today's entry invites us to marvel again at the glorious dual reality of union with Christ: not only are we in Christ, but Christ is also in us. For those of us who believe, this isn't abstract theology—this is the foundation of our daily confidence. When Paul speaks of Christ in you, the hope of glory (Colossians 1:27), he is unveiling a divine mystery that was once hidden but is now revealed by the Spirit.

Oswald Chambers reflects on Jesus’ command to the disciples after the Transfiguration—not to share what they had seen until “the Son of Man had risen from the dead.” This wasn’t about secrecy for its own sake. It was about readiness—readiness to see, to understand, and to bear the weight of glory.

The devotional titled Hand Hewn calls us to remember the source from which we were drawn—Christ Himself, our Rock. The passage from Isaiah urges those who follow after righteousness to “look unto the rock from which ye are hewn,” a poetic call to remember that our identity is not self-made but derived from the eternal, unchanging Christ.

Today's eManna entry, Baptizing the Entire Body Once for All, unfolds a beautiful and often overlooked truth—Christ, our exalted Head, has already baptized His entire Body into the Holy Spirit. The significance of Acts 2 and Acts 10 is not just historical; it is doctrinally monumental. On the day of Pentecost, Christ immersed Jewish believers into the Spirit, and in Cornelius' house, He did the same for the Gentile believers. These two moments were not repeatable experiences for new believers to seek after. They were the once-for-all baptism of the entire Body of Christ into the Spirit.

Nehemiah 3 might at first read like a dry list from a city engineer’s notebook—gates, walls, names, districts. But beneath the architecture lies a beautiful theology of collaboration. What the Grace and Truth Study Bible expositor draws out is this: the work of God is not for the elite or the especially gifted. Instead, it’s the shared responsibility of every member of God’s people. The chapter presents a snapshot of ancient teamwork that stretches across social classes, occupations, genders, and regions. Priests, merchants, daughters, rulers, and commoners alike all have their assigned portion—literally, a piece of the wall near their own homes—to rebuild. Some, like Shallum’s daughters, surprise us with their joyful contribution. Others, like the nobles of Tekoa, remind us that pride can dull our zeal for God’s work.

Ezekiel 34 lays bare the failure of Israel’s leaders—called “shepherds”—who used their positions to serve themselves rather than tending to the people entrusted to their care. They consumed the benefits of leadership while neglecting their most basic responsibilities: nurturing the weak, healing the sick, seeking the lost, and protecting the vulnerable. Because of their neglect, God’s sheep were scattered and vulnerable to danger. God’s judgment against these selfish shepherds is clear: He will remove them from their posts and personally take over the role of Shepherd.