September 7 — "When Rules Miss the Point"

Today's Reading: Matthew 12:1-21

From the very beginning, the Bible doesn’t whisper—it shouts: human life is sacred. Genesis declares that human beings are made in God’s image. Not birds, not stars, not oceans—only people bear His likeness and were crafted for intimate fellowship with Him. That divine imprint makes every life—from unborn child to wrinkled saint—immeasurably precious.

But somewhere along the way, the Pharisees missed the point. They turned the Sabbath—a day meant as a blessing to people for the refreshment of their soul—into a rigid rulebook. They obsessed over regulations and missed the relationship. They guarded the law but forgot the love behind it. They valued habits over humanity.

So when Jesus healed on the Sabbath, they were outraged. And Jesus, with piercing clarity, responds with a reminder of God's love and care for human life, "How much more valuable is a man than a sheep!" and "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath." Boom. That’s the mic drop.

Jesus wasn’t just correcting their theology—He was revealing God’s heart. The Sabbath was never designed to trap people in religious duty. It was a gift. A divine rhythm of rest, renewal, and delight designed to be a blessing.

And that’s the thread woven through all of God’s Word—from Genesis to Revelation. Everything He’s done, every command He’s given, every breath He’s sustained—it’s all been for our good, all flowing from His relentless love. Creation wasn’t a cold blueprint; it was a masterpiece painted with joy. The Law wasn’t a cage; it was a compass pointing us back to life. Redemption wasn’t a reluctant rescue; it was a passionate pursuit of our hearts.

Let’s be honest—“religion” often feels like a checklist: behave, perform, impress. Cold. Rigid. Exhausting. But the Gospel flips the script. It starts not with duty, but with delight. Not with bondage, but blessing. God’s moral commands, His rhythms of rest, His creation—they’re not traps. They’re gifts. Jesus didn’t come to pile on pressure. He came to offer relationship, forgiveness, freedom, and love.

So when the weight of trying to follow the rules starts to crush your joy, you too could be missing the point. Remember: you’re not a rule-keeping robot in God’s religious factory—you’re His beloved child, made for grace, not grind. You’re a beloved child in a world designed with your blessing in mind. The cross screams your value. The Sabbath whispers His care.

Beloved, may your eyes be opened to your worth in His eyes. May you receive creation as His gift, His Word as your anchor, and His rest as your invitation. Walk today knowing—you are infinitely treasured by your Father in heaven. 

September 6 — "The Rest You’ve Been Looking For"

Today's Reading: Matthew 11

Life piles up fast—work stress, family drama, financial strain, and the haunting weight of our own missteps. It’s like lugging a backpack stuffed with bricks up a mountain trail, each step heavier than the last. And into that exhausting climb, Jesus speaks: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28).

When Jesus first spoke these words, His audience was drowning in religious rules, crushed by the weight of Pharisaic law and Roman oppression. They were worn out, spiritually parched, and desperate for relief. Instead of offering more hoops to jump through—He offered Himself. He is the soul-rest we crave (Hebrews 4:9–10). His peace isn’t circumstantial—it’s unshakable (John 14:27).

Fast forward to today: we may not be bound by ancient laws, but we’re still burdened. The pressure to perform, succeed, and prove ourselves is relentless. Some of us drag guilt from yesterday; others clutch anxiety about tomorrow. And Jesus still says, “Lay it down. Stop carrying what only I can bear. Trade your hustle for My rest.”

Picture this: a little boy in the yard, straining to move a massive rock. He pushes, pulls, grunts, and groans—but it won’t budge. Tearfully, he tells his dad, “I’ve tried everything!” His father kneels beside him and says, “No, son—you haven’t asked me.” Then, with ease, the dad lifts the stone and carries it away.

That’s Matthew 11:28 in action. We exhaust ourselves trying to move life’s boulders alone, forgetting our Heavenly Father stands ready to lift what we cannot. So here’s the call: don’t just admire the invitation—accept it. Coming to Jesus means surrendering the load, confessing our limits, and trusting His rest is enough. It means showing up daily—in prayer, in the Word—and letting Him renew your soul.

In the paraphrased version from Eugene Peterson –“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”¹

Too many believers keep dragging burdens Jesus already offered to carry. Friend, it’s time to drop them at His feet and breathe deep in His grace.

May you come as you are today—no masks, no striving—and find rest in the One who carries what you can’t.

 

 

¹THE MESSAGE: The Bible in Contemporary Language copyright © 1993, 2002, 2018 by Eugene H. Peterson. 

September 5 — "Let Go to Hold On"

Today's Reading: Matthew 10:24-42

Picture someone dangling off the edge of a cliff—fingers cramping, arms trembling, sheer panic in their eyes. They’re convinced that if they let go, they’ll plummet to their death. But just three feet below? A sturdy ledge. Solid ground. Safety. All they have to do is release their grip.

That’s us. Clinging to control, comfort, and our carefully curated lives—terrified that surrender equals disaster. But Jesus says in Matthew 10:39, “Whoever clings to his life will lose it, but whoever gives it up for My sake will find it.” It’s one of His most upside-down truths. And it messes with our logic.

We’re wired to preserve ourselves. The world teaches us to protect, promote, and hold tight to what we’ve built. But Jesus invites us to let go—for His sake—and promises that in doing so, we’ll discover real life. Eternal life. Abundant life.

Letting go feels like losing. We grip our plans, possessions, and identities like lifelines. What if God’s plan doesn’t match my dream? What if I give something up and never get it back? What if God sends me somewhere I don’t want to go? Deep down, we fear that surrender will leave us empty.

But here’s the freeing truth: what we’re clinging to isn’t nearly as secure as we think. Health, wealth, relationships, success—they’re all fragile. Jesus offers a better trade: our temporary, breakable life for His eternal, unshakable one. And when we finally loosen our grip, we don’t fall into chaos—we fall into grace. Into the arms of the One who knows us best and loves us most.

A missionary once described how villagers caught monkeys using a hollowed-out gourd tied to a tree, filled with sweet nuts. The hole was just big enough for a monkey to slip its hand in—but once it grabbed the nuts, it couldn’t pull its fist out unless it let go. The hunters didn’t chase or harm it. They simply waited. The monkey trapped itself.

That’s us again. Hanging from cliffs. Fists clenched around dreams, fears, and illusions of control. But Jesus isn’t asking us to fall—He’s asking us to trust. To release what we cannot keep and receive what we cannot lose.

Today, may the Lord give you courage to open your hands. To let go. To fall—not into emptiness, but into the fullness of His life. Because losing your life for His sake isn’t loss at all—it’s the greatest gain you’ll ever know. 

September 4 — "Street-Smart, Pure-Heart"

Today's Reading: Matthew 10:1-23

Matthew 10:16 is one of those statements from Jesus that makes you think twice: “Behold, I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” Sheep, wolves, serpents, and doves—oh my! It’s not just poetic wildlife—it’s Jesus prepping His disciples for the real hostility they’d face while proclaiming the Gospel, and how to respond with both grit and grace.

In that culture, sheep were the definition of defenseless. No claws, no fangs, no horns, no powerful jaws, no muscular build. And wolves? They hunted in packs, ruthless, fast, powerful and relentless. So when Jesus said, “I’m sending you out as sheep among wolves,” He wasn’t sugarcoating a thing. He was saying, “You’re exposed. The world will see you as easy prey.” Translation? “They’re coming for you.” His next line? “So be wise as serpents.”

To the disciples, serpents (snakes) were viewed as sharp-eyed, danger-sensitive, cunning, and masters of timing. A serpent doesn’t rush in—it reads the room. It knows when to slither and when to stay still. Jesus wasn’t calling us to be deceitful or sneaky—He was saying, “Use your brain! Be spiritually street-smart.” And then He adds the counterpunch: “Innocent as doves.” Doves don’t plot. They don’t lash out. They’re pure, peaceful, and non-aggressive.

So here’s the divine tension: be shrewd without being sinful, and holy without being naïve. Be street-smart with a pure-heart. In today’s world, that means we don’t cave to fear, but we also don’t stumble around clueless. We engage culture with wisdom—knowing when to speak, when to listen, when to stand firm, and when to step back. And our motives? Always pure. No manipulation. No bitterness. Just love, seasoned with discernment. Jesus calls us to be serpent-smart—strategic and observant, sidestepping traps without ever striking with venom.

Take a workplace moment: a colleague scoffs, “I don’t get why anyone still believes the Bible—it’s outdated.” You feel the tension. Instead of launching into a defense, you pause. You ask, “What makes you feel that way?” That’s serpent wisdom—reading the room, opening a door. Then you respond with dove-like innocence: “I’ve found the Bible speaks to things I wrestle with today—identity, purpose, hope.” No agenda. Just honest, humble witness. That’s the strategy—truth with tenderness.

Maybe you’re staring down a tough conversation at work, or feeling the strain of faith-based tension in your family. Be the dove—gentle, kind, unoffensive. But also be the serpent—alert, aware, and spiritually awake to the battle around you. Jesus isn’t sending us into the fray empty-handed. He’s handing us divine game plan.

So step out today—soft-hearted, sharp-minded. Full of grace, full of truth. The world needs Christ followers who walk wisely, never losing their innocence. 

September 3 — "A Shepherd’s Beating Heart"

Today's Reading: Matthew 9:18-38

Jesus never looked at a crowd the way we do. We often see traffic, statistics, problems, interruptions, annoyances. He saw sheep—harassed, helpless, wandering. Matthew 9:36 says, “He had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd.”

That’s the heart of a true Shepherd. Not just one who sees the crowd, but one who feels their ache, notices their need, and moves toward them with love. Being a Shepherd isn’t about wielding a staff—it’s about laying down your life. It’s fierce, tender, and wildly generous.

Jesus embodied this perfectly. He didn’t glance past the crowd or delegate their pain. He stepped in. His heart was protective, patient, and extravagantly kind. He didn’t just see their brokenness—He felt it. And then He acted.

So what does that look like in us? As we grow in Christ, His Shepherd heart should begin to beat inside us. It may be a faint pulse at first, but as we grow we start noticing the hurting, the harassed, the helpless. And we don’t just notice—we feel the tug of God’s compassion and the call to guide, protect, and love until they find their way home.

But if you don’t feel that ache—if you can walk past the broken and feel nothing—then something’s wrong. Not just “missing.” Wrong. Because if Christ lives in you, His compassion should be leaking out of you. If your heart doesn’t break for the lost, it’s time to ask: Whose heart is beating in your chest?

The Gospel doesn’t call us to a life of comfort. It calls us to carry—to carry their burdens, to carry the weight of their pain. If you’re not moved by the harassed and helpless, maybe you’ve forgotten what it felt like to be one of them. Maybe you’ve grown numb. Maybe you’ve grown proud. Either way, it’s time to repent.

If you already carry a Shepherd’s heart—bless the Lord for it! Tend it well. Keep it soft by staying close to Jesus, the Chief Shepherd. Feed it with His Word. Guard it from bitterness and burnout. And when you see someone straying—go gently, go boldly, go lovingly.

If you don’t sense this Shepherd heart pulsing inside of you—ask for it. “You have not because you ask not.” (James 4:2)  Seek the Lord for it. Wait upon His Spirit until that heart starts beating. Then, start to serve others. Go where it’s hard. Serve where it’s inconvenient. Love when it’s uncomfortable. Compassion grows when you use it.

From the heart of the Good Shepherd to yours—may He give you eyes that see, a heart that aches, and hands that heal. 

September 2 — "Forgiveness: The Deeper Miracle"

Today's Reading: Matthew 9:1-17

Matthew 9:2 reminds us that our deepest need isn’t always the thing we’re praying for God to fix. We often approach Jesus with a to-do list: heal the sickness, cover the bill, open the door—restore the paralyzed body. But Jesus sees past the surface. He knows the real root issue—our separation from God. When He addresses the spiritual need first, it’s not because He’s ignoring our pain. It’s because He’s performing a greater miracle—restoring the very foundation of our lives.

In Capernaum, some determined friends bring their paralyzed friend to Jesus. The room is thick with dust, hushed whispers, and the skeptical stares of scribes. Everyone’s bracing for a visible miracle. But Jesus surprises them. He looks at the man and says, “Take heart, son; your sins are forgiven.” Before muscles twitch, before legs move, a heavier burden lifts—the invisible weight of guilt and separation from God. The man’s first healing is internal: a rush of warmth, relief like fresh air flooding lungs that had only known shallow breaths; shame loosens its grip; fear unclenches; hope begins to hum inside his chest.

Why did Jesus start there? Because sin is soul-paralysis. Jesus saw the deeper miracle this man truly needed. Yes, broken bodies ache—but broken fellowship with God is a deeper fracture. Jesus heals from the inside out. Forgiveness isn’t a detour—it’s the cornerstone. When the scribes bristle, Jesus proves His authority with a second miracle: “Rise, take up your bed, and go home.” The visible healing confirms the invisible grace.

So what does this mean for us? Never stop bringing Jesus your urgent needs—but bring Him your heart first. Ask Him to forgive, to cleanse, to realign your spirit. Many of us live spiritually “stuck,” not because God can’t change our circumstances, but because He’s waiting to change our center. When Christ is the center—secured by His pardon—every other healing finds its proper place.

Today, come honestly. Name the sins that have numbed your soul. Hear His word spoken over you: “Take heart, my son/daughter.” Feel what that man felt—startled peace, tears you didn’t know you’d stored, the sensation of being lighter than the mat that once carried you. Then rise. Walk in newness. Carry your story home.

Today, may you allow the Lord look past your visible symptoms and see your soul. May the God of forgiveness make you holy in every way, and may your whole spirit, soul, and body be kept blameless until our Lord Jesus Christ returns 

September 1 — "Why Are You Afraid?"

Today's Reading: Matthew 8:18-34

When life’s storms hit hard and fast, it’s tempting to wonder if God has nodded off at the wheel. But Matthew 8:26 reveals a Savior who’s not only wide awake—He’s masterfully in charge. The big idea? Jesus doesn’t just hush the waves—He hushes the heart. So when fear starts knocking, hear Jesus ask, “Why are you afraid?” Then answer with faith: My God is here. My times are in His hand. And no storm outranks His power.

Picture it: the Sea of Galilee, notorious for surprise squalls. The disciples—some of them seasoned sailors—are freaking out as waves slam into their boat. Meanwhile, Jesus is snoozing peacefully. When they jolt Him awake, He addresses their fear before He addresses the storm. In Jewish tradition, only God commands nature. So this wasn’t just a miracle—it was a mic-drop moment: “The Great I AM is in your boat.”

His presence doesn’t erase the waves instantly—but it transforms panic into peace. Why? Because He’s Lord over the storm. And here’s the soul-piercing question He asked His disciples: “Why are you afraid?”

So let’s bring it home. Why are YOU afraid?

• ·        Facing a sudden crisis? Pray first, then act—Psalm 46:1 says God is your ever-present help.
• ·        Unsure about the future? Trust Proverbs 3:5–6—He knows the way.
• ·        Feeling out of control? Rest in Psalm 31:15—your times are in His hand.
• ·         Worried about safety? Isaiah 41:10 promises He will uphold you.
• ·        Grieving loss? Worship through Job 1:21.
• ·         Under spiritual attack? Resist with James 4:7 and stand firm in God’s armor.
• ·         Wrestling with shame? Romans 8:1 declares no condemnation.
• ·        Disturbed by world events? John 16:33 says Jesus has overcome.
• ·        Feeling inadequate? Lean into 2 Corinthians 12:9—His grace is enough.

 I’m reminded of a boy on a bumpy airplane ride. While grown-ups clutched their armrests, he calmly colored in his book. When asked why he wasn’t scared, he replied, “Because my dad’s the pilot.” That’s faith—trusting Who’s in control, even when the ride gets rough.

Today, may the Lord anchor your heart in the truth that He is with you in every storm. May His peace guard your mind, His presence steady your soul, and His power remind you: no wave is greater than His Word. Rest in Him—you’re safe in the boat (or on the plane) with Jesus.