September 23 — "Save Us Please! Save Us Now!"

Today's Reading: Matthew 21:1-22

The crowd’s cry in Matthew 21 still reverberates with soul-shaking power: “Hosanna in the highest!” At first glance, it sounds like simple praise—like a cheer at a parade. But oh, it’s so much more. That one word carries a depth of meaning that reaches far beyond palm branches and celebration.

Originally, “Hosanna” came from the Hebrew phrase Hoshi’a na—“Save us, please!” It’s found in Psalm 118:25: “Save us, we pray, O Lord! O Lord, we pray, give us success!” It was the desperate cry of a people aching for rescue. But over time, the word evolved. It became not just a plea for salvation, but a shout of triumph—“Salvation has come! Victory is here!” What began as a prayer of desperation bloomed into a declaration of hope.

On that first “Palm Sunday” in Jerusalem, the crowd shouted “Hoshi’a na” with both meanings packed into one breath. Some were pleading, “Save us from Rome!” Others—without even realizing it—were proclaiming a deeper truth: Jesus had come to save them from sin and death. They thought they were welcoming a political hero. Heaven knew they were welcoming the Savior of the world.

And that’s the breathtaking beauty of “Hoshi’a na”: it’s both a cry of the heart and a confession of faith. It means, “Lord, save me right now!” and also, “Lord, You’ve brought salvation, and I’m rejoicing!” Few words in all of Scripture carry that kind of dual punch—desperation and delight, plea and praise.

In our own walk with Jesus, “Hosanna” gives voice to the tension we live in. When you’re in the thick of a trial, whisper it as a prayer: “Hosanna—Lord, save me!” When you’re basking in God’s faithfulness, shout it as praise: “Hosanna—my Deliverer has come!”

So today, let “Hoshi’a na - Hosanna” be ever on your lips. In your need, let it rise like a prayer. In your joy, let it soar like a song. Because Jesus has heard your cry—and He’s already given you His victory.

May the Lord fill your heart today with the cry and the confidence of “Hosanna”—that in your weakness, you may find His rescue, and in your worship, you may rejoice in His triumph. 

September 22 — "Twice His"

Today's Reading: Matthew 20:17-34

Picture a little boy who builds a toy boat with his own two hands. He carves it, assembles it, fastens it together, paints it, and cherishes it. But one day, it drifts away on a pond and vanishes. Heartbroken, the boy later spots his beloved boat in a pawn shop window. Though he made it—so it’s rightfully his—the shopkeeper insists he must buy it back. So the boy works, saves, and finally pays the price to reclaim his treasure. Clutching his boat once more, he whispers, “Little boat, you’re twice mine—first I made you, and then I bought you. Now you’re really mine!”

That story mirrors the truth of Matthew 20:28: “The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” In the ancient world, ransom was the payment to release a slave or prisoner. It was the exact price required to buy back one’s freedom. And that’s what Jesus did for us. He created us in His image, which means we already belonged to Him. But sin carried us away, and like the little boat, we ended up in the pawnshop of bondage to sin. Though Jesus was our rightful Owner by creation, He chose to buy us back by ransom satisfying the demands of justice and love. Now we are twice His. He chose to buy us back with His own life. He made us once—and then He ransomed us. We are twice His.

Think about that! You are not only His by design—you are His by redemption. That means your worth is beyond question. You are not cheap, not accidental, not disposable. You were bought with the most precious currency ever paid: the blood of Christ. That also means your life is no longer your own. If you’re twice His, then every breath belongs to Him, and every day is an opportunity to live as His treasured possession.

So when guilt whispers that you’re not enough, remember: you’re twice His. When fear tells you that you’re abandoned, remember: you’re twice His. And when the enemy tries to chain you back to sin, stand tall in the truth that you’re twice His—made and bought, cherished and claimed.

May the Lord fill your heart today with the unshakable joy of knowing you are twice His. And may that truth set you free to live in bold love, humble service, and radiant hope until the day you see Him face to face. 

September 21 — "Envious of God’s Generosity"

Today's Reading: Matthew 20:1-16

God’s Kingdom doesn’t run on merit—it runs on grace. Undeserved, unearned, wildly generous grace. In the parable of the vineyard workers, Jesus flips the scoreboard and reveals a truth that rattles human pride: while we tally up effort, He pours out unearned mercy. The last become first, the first become last, because the Father delights in giving freely—not by our rules, but by His heart.

In Jesus’ day, day laborers lived hand-to-mouth, utterly reliant on landowners to feed their families. Getting hired late in the day could mean going home empty-handed. But in this parable, the master pays the latecomers a full day’s wage—a jaw-dropping act of generosity. When the early birds grumble, the master replies, “Can’t I do what I want with my own money?” Translation: God gives grace on His terms, not ours.

This story wrecks the spirit of comparison and competition. We might side-eye someone’s blessing—“Why her?” or “How did he get saved so late and still receive eternal life?” But Heaven isn’t a prize for performance; it’s a gift. Our God is lavish, not stingy. His mercy toward others doesn’t shrink His mercy toward us—it multiplies it.

Picture this: two travelers board a plane. One booked months in advance, the other snagged a last-minute seat. When they land, both arrive at the same destination, same time. The early planner might mutter, “But I prepared, I waited, I booked early!” Yet both made it because of the ticket—not the hustle. That’s grace. That’s how God works. His grace—not our grind—is what gets us our ticket home. And yes, He absolutely gets to do it that way.

So let’s swap envy for celebration. Instead of resenting someone else’s blessing, rejoice in God’s mercy. Cheer for every prodigal who stumbles home, every eleventh-hour sinner who gets swept into salvation. And remember—your own rescue wasn’t “fair.” It was mercy. The Lord handed you a ticket you didn’t earn. So live humbly, serve joyfully, and trust the Master’s generosity.

Today, may the Lord uproot every trace of envy from your heart and plant deep gratitude in its place. May He open your eyes to fresh mercies and free you from comparisons that steal your joy. And may you walk in the glad confidence that His generosity toward others only magnifies His goodness toward you. 

September 20 — "Bonded Like Superglue"

Today's Reading: Matthew 19

Marriage isn’t a manmade institution—it’s God’s divine masterpiece. From the beginning, the Lord declared that a man would leave his parents, be united to his wife, and the two would become one flesh. Jesus reaffirms this in Matthew 19:6.

When the Pharisees tried to trap Jesus with questions about divorce, He didn’t argue—He pointed them back to God’s original design. Marriage isn’t a contract—it’s a covenant. It’s not just two people agreeing to live together—it’s a sacred union, sealed by God. And since they’re no longer two but one, Jesus says, let no one separate what God has joined.

So what does “one flesh” mean? It’s more than physical intimacy. It’s emotional and spiritual bonding, covenantal commitment, and purposeful partnership. It’s the kind of unity that says, “Your joy is mine. Your pain is mine.” Like Adam recognizing Eve as “bone of my bones,” it’s a Gospel picture of indivisible love—two lives, one mission, one heart.

In today’s culture, relationships are treated like fast food—quick, disposable, and easily replaced. But Jesus’ words cut through the noise. If God joins a husband and wife, then marriage is holy, enduring, and intentional. For Christ-followers, this means we don’t enter marriage lightly, nor do we abandon it when things get hard. We honor God by cherishing the spouse He’s given us, pursuing unity, practicing forgiveness, and loving sacrificially—reflecting Christ’s faithful love for His Church.

Think of superglue. Once it bonds, it’s nearly impossible to separate without damage. That’s marriage. Or picture a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—try peeling off the peanut butter and the jelly comes with it. That’s God’s design: inseparable, blended, one.

So what’s your move? If you’re married, recommit today to your vows—not just before your spouse, but before God. Serve each other with humility, forgive quickly, and fight for unity. If you’re single, honor marriage by preparing your heart to see it as sacred and God-ordained. Reject the world’s casual view and embrace God’s covenant standard.

And now, beloved, may the Lord bless your home with peace, your marriage with joy, and your heart with steadfast love. Walk in His grace, delight in His design, and let His love shine through you—today and always. 

September 19 — "No Ledger—No Limits"

Today's Reading: Matthew 18:21-35

Forgiveness isn’t a suggestion in the Christian life. Nor is it something reserved just for a few “super holy” religious ones. It’s a divine mandate for all of us. In Matthew 18, Peter asked Jesus if forgiving someone seven times was enough. Jesus responded, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy times seven.” That’s 490, if you’re counting.

In Jewish tradition, forgiving three times was considered wildly generous—borderline heroic. Peter thought seven would earn a gold star. But Jesus wasn’t raising the bar—He was obliterating it. His message? Forgiveness isn’t about keeping a ledger; it’s about mirroring the heart of a God whose mercy is limitless.

So what does that mean for us today? It means forgiveness isn’t optional—it’s always on the table. We forgive because we’ve been forgiven. God erased a debt we could never repay—every sin, every act of rebellion, every stray thought and selfish deed—all nailed to the cross of Christ. Compared to the avalanche of grace we’ve received, the offenses others commit against us are spare change. Painful? Yes. But microscopic next to the mountain of mercy already credited to our account.

Let’s paint a picture: imagine standing in court, guilty of a billion-dollar fraud, with zero chance of repayment. Then—shockingly, abruptly—the judge cancels your debt and sets you free. Now imagine walking out and suing someone for twenty bucks. Absurd, right? That’s the contrast Jesus is driving home. The forgiveness we give will always be dwarfed by the forgiveness we’ve received.

Now, let’s be real—we don’t always feel like forgiving. And God never asks us to fake it or pretend the pain isn’t real. Forgiveness is a decision, not a mood. You may not “feel” forgiving, but you can still choose to release the person to God. Obedience comes first, and feelings follow. Think of forgiveness as handing over the IOU to the Lord—even if your emotions are still kicking and screaming.

So what now? Drop the scorecard. If you’re keeping a ledger of offenses, shred it. Let go of the grievances you’ve been gripping and give them to God. Forgive quickly. Forgive freely. Forgive fully. Forgive always. Even if you’re at number 490, there’s room for one more. Not because they deserve it, but because God drenched you in mercy when you didn’t deserve a drop. Forgiveness is the way of Jesus.

And now, may the Lord flood your memory with the mercy He’s lavished on you. May He soften the places hardened by hurt, fill your heart with His compassion, and lift the weight of resentment off your shoulders. May His Spirit empower you to forgive again and again and again—just as He has so extravagantly forgiven you. 

September 18 — "When Christ Joins Your Circle"

Today's Reading: Matthew 18:1-20

Although Jesus has left this planet for the time being, He insists that He is still among us when we “gather in His name.” Yes, Jesus physically ascended into heaven—Acts 1 paints that unforgettable scene of Him rising and being hidden by a cloud. But He didn’t vanish from the story. He transitioned from being with us in body to being in us and among us by His Spirit—the Holy Spirit.

We often hear today’s verse quoted at prayer meetings, Bible studies, or church gatherings—where two or three are gathered. And yes, it absolutely applies there. But in context, Jesus is speaking about something a little different: forgiveness and church discipline. He’s teaching His disciples how to confront sin, extend grace, and pursue restoration within the family of God. And right in the thick of that messy, vulnerable process, He drops this stunning promise: “You won’t be doing this alone. I’ll be right there with you—among you—in your midst.”

When Christ joins your circle, it’s anything but ordinary. The room exhales. The mundane becomes magnetic. The spiritual air thickens with expectancy, and suddenly, you’re not just praying—you’re participating in something eternal.

• The room warms. Not physically, but spiritually. There’s a sense of welcome, like you’ve stepped into a living room where the Host knows you by name.
• Words flow differently. You’re not just reciting requests. You’re dialoguing. Listening. Sometimes you speak less because His presence says more.
• Unity deepens. These aren’t just fellow believers—they’re co-laborers, family, friends in the Spirit. The Gospel knits hearts together in ways no icebreaker ever could.
• Peace settles. Distraction fades. Anxiety loosens its grip. You feel held. Anchored. Known.
• Joy bubbles up. Not loud, but holy. A smile mid-prayer. A soft laugh when someone prays something so honest it feels sacred.

 Whether you’re praying for reconciliation, healing, guidance, or simply gathering to seek His face—when Jesus joins your circle, the agenda bends to His presence. Sometimes He brings conviction. Sometimes comfort. Sometimes a fresh wind of clarity. But always, always, He brings Himself.

 May the Lord meet you in every gathering—grand or quiet, planned or spontaneous. May His Spirit stir your heart, soften your words, and knit you together in Gospel love. May your prayer circles become holy ground, and your soul find rest in the nearness of Christ. 

September 17 — "The Day Glory Blazed Bright"

Today's Reading: Matthew 17

There are seven thunderous, history-shaking days in the life of Jesus Christ—each one a towering summit in the landscape of time. These aren’t just moments; they’re divine mile-markers that reveal who He is and why He matters more than anything.

(1) His Birth was the day God wrapped Himself in flesh—when Heaven kissed earth and eternity squeezed into a manger.

(2) His Baptism was the day the Sinless One stepped into our mess, plunging into waters meant for us, standing shoulder to shoulder, identifying with sinners.

(3) At the Wedding at Cana, His glory cracked through the ordinary, as the Creator first demonstrated His power by  turning water into wine and whispering of greater miracles yet to come.

(4) Then came His Crucifixion—the moment when love poured out in crimson streams to rescue the lost, turning history’s darkest night into humanity’s dawn of hope.

(5) His Resurrection was the day the grave got evicted, when death bowed low before the Lord of life.

(6) And His Ascension? That was the King’s victorious return to His throne—Heaven erupted as the Champion took His seat in glory.

But nestled between Cana and Calvary stands a moment so dazzling it almost feels out of place: (7) The Transfiguration. In Matthew 17, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a high mountain. Suddenly—boom!—His face shines like the sun, His clothes blaze white as light, and Moses and Elijah appear, chatting with Him. Then the Father’s voice thunders from Heaven: “This is My beloved Son… listen to Him.”

For one breathtaking moment, the veil is pulled back. The disciples don’t just see the carpenter from Nazareth—they behold the blazing King of glory. It’s a sneak peek of the Resurrection, a trailer for the Second Coming, and a reminder that behind Jesus’ humanity pulses the full splendor of God.

Why does this matter to us? Because just like those wide-eyed disciples, we need the reminder: Jesus isn’t just relatable—He’s radiant. He’s not just compassionate—He’s cosmic. He’s not just near—He’s above all. The awe that gripped Peter, James, and John invites us into deeper wonder and reverence. In a world where faith can feel flat or over-intellectualized, the Transfiguration jolts us awake to God’s majesty, stirring worship and humility.

The Transfiguration shouts that Jesus is far more than a wise teacher or moral guide—He is the eternal Son of God, ablaze in glory, worthy of our worship and obedience.

So may the Lord open your eyes today to see His glory—not just on the mountaintops, but in the valleys too—so that His light fuels your soul until the day you see Him face to face.