E. Stanley Jones doesn’t mince words in today’s devotional entry. He draws a bright line between abiding in Christ and choosing not to. And it’s not merely a theological concept—it’s existential. To abide in Christ is to receive His very life. His peace becomes our peace. His joy, our joy. His purity, His victory, His power—ours by intimate union, not by imitation.

Ray Stedman draws our attention to one of the most powerful forces in human experience—sexuality—and reminds us that God’s Word doesn’t suppress it, but rather channels it. Like a mighty river, sex brings life and delight when it stays within God’s boundaries, but brings destruction when unleashed without restraint.

A.B. Simpson directs our gaze today not to the mountaintops of public ministry or spiritual epiphany, but to the quiet valleys where life feels ordinary—where faith is shaped in the pottery of routine. He writes of those anonymous artisans—potters by trade, yet living in the service of the king. They carried out seemingly mundane work, but it was holy work because of who they served and how they served.

Bob Hoekstra leads us today into the core of what it means to live as Jesus lived—not by imitating His actions from a distance, but by participating in the same relational dependence Jesus had with the Father. Jesus didn’t operate out of His own divine initiative while walking the earth. Instead, He chose to live as a man yielded to the indwelling presence and will of the Father. He didn’t simply model obedience; He demonstrated the reality of union.

Oswald Chambers gets to the heart of a subtle but damaging attitude many of us carry without realizing: misjudging God's provision and, in doing so, slandering His goodness. He explains that Jesus' parable of the talents (or bags of gold) is not about natural abilities, personality, or even how sharp our minds are. It’s about our response to the Spirit’s life within us—our spiritual capacity, which is measured by God's promises, not our resumes.

Today’s reflection from Abide Above reminds us that every hardship, trial, and season of suffering is a custom-tailored expression of God's love and divine purpose for us. We are not left to drift through affliction aimlessly. Rather, we are being formed—conformed—into the image of Christ through every valley we walk. The trials of life are not blemishes on the journey but burnishings that reveal the solid gold of Christ’s life in us.

This morning’s devotional paints a vivid picture from Genesis 49:11 and Revelation 19:8, inviting us to see our behavior—our daily walk—as garments that can be saturated with the wine of Christ’s life. In Scripture, wine and grape juice are not just metaphors of His provision but expressions of both satisfaction and joy. Grape juice quenches thirst; wine stirs excitement.

Few biblical scenes strike the heart with such gravity as the fiery judgment of Sodom and Gomorrah. And for many believers, one question lingers long after the smoke clears: What about the children? Were there no innocent lives among the rubble? Why would a good and sovereign God allow their deaths?

It’s one of the most sobering questions a believer can ask:
If God is good and sovereign (and He is), why did He rain down fire on Sodom and Gomorrah, yet He seems to delay judgment on nations or groups today that traffic children, endorse slavery, or revel in brutality?

Ephesians 6 brings Paul's letter to a powerful conclusion, tying together relational submission, spiritual identity, and divine readiness. He first addresses practical relationships: children are to obey their parents, not just because it’s traditional, but because it reflects the moral order of God's creation—an obedience that honors, preserves peace, and leads to flourishing. Fathers, representing leadership in the home, are urged not to provoke their children with harshness but to nurture them with wisdom, instruction, and Christlike guidance.

John 11 draws us into one of the most emotionally rich and theologically revealing moments of Jesus’ earthly ministry. The chapter begins with a quiet, desperate plea from Mary and Martha. They know Jesus loves Lazarus, and they trust that if He comes, He can heal him. Yet Jesus delays. Not from indifference, but with divine intention—to glorify the Father through a resurrection more awe-inspiring than a healing.

If God is good (and He is), why doesn’t He immediately destroy the evil institutions man creates?

It’s a question as old as the fall—and as urgent as the headlines. Why would God allow something like slavery to persist in the ancient world? Or allow unjust governments to rise? Or corrupt hierarchies to maintain power? Why not abolish them outright?

E. Stanley Jones draws our attention to a truth that many believers overlook in their practical walk: that self-surrender is not a repeated ritual but a once-and-for-all response to God's call. Yet, in that singular surrender, there are countless daily, even moment-by-moment, expressions of the same heart posture. He compares it to a good marriage—you don’t re-enter the covenant every day, but you do live out that covenant in countless small ways daily.

In Immeasurably More, Ray Stedman draws from Leviticus 17 to highlight a forgotten truth that undergirds all of human behavior: life does not belong to us. God required the Israelites to bring their sacrifices to Him—offering them not in secret places or to mythical goat idols, but publicly and properly at the tent of meeting. This wasn’t mere ritual. It was a visual declaration: all life—animal and human—belongs to God, and we dare not try to manipulate or redirect it through superstition, control, or self-will.

Today’s reflection from A.B. Simpson takes us to the quiet place Jesus Himself invited His disciples to inhabit—a place of stillness, rest, and deep trust. In the Gospel of Mark, often called the Gospel of action or service, we are surprised by this tender call from Christ: “Come away by yourselves… and rest.” It’s a reminder that the most fruitful workers in God’s kingdom are not those who are frenzied or self-driven, but those who move from a place of divine stillness.

So much of modern Christian teaching can subtly drift into the realm of information—principles to memorize, doctrines to debate, definitions to defend. But the Scriptures keep pulling us back to relationship. Grace and peace aren’t academic subjects; they are multiplied to us in relationship with Christ. The divine provisions of life and godliness aren't trophies for the shelf of our theological knowledge—they are treasures to be drawn upon for daily living.

Oswald Chambers draws us into the life of Joab—a man who had faithfully served David for years and resisted an obvious threat like Absalom’s rebellion. Yet, at the end of David’s reign, Joab surprisingly sides with Adonijah, a seemingly lesser threat. What happened? Chambers wants us to recognize that spiritual failure often doesn’t come crashing in through the front door. It slips quietly through a window we left cracked open.

Today’s Abide Above devotional reminds us that we no longer live under the law of Moses, which governed external conduct, demanded compliance, and exposed our inability to live righteously. Instead, we now live under a new, internal reality—the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus.

This morning’s devotional from eManna paints a vivid picture of Christ not merely as our Savior, but as the triumphant, resting Lion of Judah. The lion imagery drawn from Genesis 49 and Revelation 5 invites us to see Christ not just in His power but in His posture—victorious and at rest. He descends from the mountain, seizes His prey, and ascends again in full dominion. What is His prey? All that once hunted us—anger, sin, weakness, fear, shame. Once devoured, these enemies no longer roar in our ears. Christ has overcome them, and now He couches, satisfied.

Nehemiah 8 paints a vibrant picture of revival—but not the kind brought by music or emotion, but by the hearing of God’s Word. After the physical restoration of the city walls, something even more vital happens: the spiritual restoration of the people. Ezra, who had been working quietly for over a decade, reemerges just in time to lead this sacred moment.