October 9 — "Finished Yet Unfinished"

Today's Reading: Matthew 28

At the center of Matthew 28:19–20 is a jaw-dropping truth: God hasn’t finished His work upon the Earth. Yes, Jesus completed His mission, but now—drumroll, please—it’s our turn to step into ours. On the cross, Jesus declared, “It is finished” (John 19:30), and oh yes, it truly was—sin paid in full, death crushed, salvation locked in for eternity.

Then, after His glorious resurrection, Jesus turned to His disciples and handed them their divine marching orders: “Go, reach the lost and make disciples.” The very work He modeled during His time on Earth now becomes the sacred calling of every Gospel-loving, Jesus-following, Spirit-led believer.

Let it sink in: the Earth quaked, the temple curtain split like a ripped-up contract, the sky went pitch black, and then—BOOM—the tomb exploded with life. Heaven was shouting from the rooftops: salvation is DONE. But Jesus didn’t say, “Kick back, you’re good now,” or “Enjoy the vibes,” or “Stay comfy.” Nope. He said, “Go.” He called us to suit up, show up, and step onto the field. Baptizing, teaching, discipling—these aren’t spectator sports. They’re the ongoing mission of the body of Christ, fueled by His Spirit and bursting with purpose.

So what does this mean for us? It means our faith can’t be tucked away like grandma’s china—pretty but unused. Jesus calls us to live bold, intentional, outward-facing lives—making disciples in our homes, neighborhoods, workplaces, and yes, even across oceans if He leads. When you share a Bible verse with your kids, lift up a struggling co-worker, pray with your neighbor, or support a missionary—you’re stepping into the Great Commission. Jesus nailed His part (literally); now He invites us to play ours with passion and purpose.

And here’s the best part: we’re not flying solo. Jesus wraps His command with a promise: “I am with you always, to the end of the age.” The same power that cracked open the grave walks with us as we carry out His mission. Our job isn’t to save the world—that’s already been handled. Our job is to announce to the world that it’s salvation has been accomplished and to invite people into the supernatural, joy-filled journey of salvation and discipleship.

So, beloved, may the Lord ignite in you a fresh fire to embrace your role in His magnificent mission. May you feel the thrill of partnering with the risen Christ, and may His presence fill you with courage, creativity, and love as you carry His finished work to a world that’s waiting with open hearts. Amen. 

October 8 — "When The Light Went Dark"

Today's Reading: Matthew 27:45-66

When Jesus—the Light of the World—died on the cross, creation didn’t whisper... it roared. Darkness fell, rocks exploded, the temple veil shredded, and graves cracked open (Matthew 27). These weren’t random cosmic hiccups; they were divine fireworks announcing that Jesus’ death was the ultimate cosmic reset—obliterating sin, smashing death, and flinging wide the door to God.

At high noon, the sky went pitch black for three full hours (v. 45), as if creation itself was grieving its Creator. When the Light went out, Jesus absorbed the full weight of our sin’s shadow. The earth trembled, rocks split apart (v. 51), unable to stay silent in the face of such holy power. In the Bible, rocks and mountains often symbolize strength and permanence (Psalm 18:2). Their cracking? A loud, stone-faced confession: even the toughest crumble before Jesus’ authority.

Then came the veil. That ancient, towering curtain—over 60 feet high and thick as a man’s hand—stood like a “Do Not Enter” sign between humanity and God’s presence. But when Jesus died, it tore from top to bottom (v. 51). Not a random rip. This was God Himself grabbing the top edge and saying, “Enough! No more barriers—come close!”

Graves burst open, saints walked out (v. 52–53), proving Jesus didn’t just dent death—He demolished it. A Roman centurion, battle-hardened and unimpressed by drama, saw it all and declared, “Truly this was the Son of God!” (v. 54). If he got it, we can too!

When the Light went dark, it was for you. His death means you can approach God directly—no priest, no go-between. The torn veil is your invitation. The shattered rocks and opened tombs shout that nothing—no sin, no fear, no death—can keep you from His love. This is personal. Jesus did it to bring you near.

So run to Him! The veil’s gone—don’t let guilt or doubt hold you back. Talk to God like a trusted friend. Spill what’s heavy. Trust His forgiveness. Live boldly, knowing death’s been defeated. Share this hope with someone hurting—tell them Jesus broke every barrier for them. Step into His presence daily. He’s waiting.

May the Lord flood your heart with awe at the Light that went dark for you. May He give you courage to draw near, and let His love blaze through you into a world desperate for Him. Amen. 

October 7 — "When Love Refused to Come Down"

Today's Reading: Matthew 27:24-44 

The taunt flung at Jesus as He hung on the cross is soaked in irony: “He saved others; He cannot save Himself.” Spoken by the very chief priests, scribes, and elders who orchestrated His execution, it was meant to mock—but instead, they accidentally preached the Gospel. If Jesus had climbed down to save Himself, He couldn’t have saved us. That’s the glorious twist.

The only path to rescue sinners was for the sinless One to remain nailed to that brutal cross until death was crushed and redemption sealed. What looked like weakness was actually the most incredible display of power and love the world has ever witnessed.

Let it sink in: Jesus had healed lepers, opened blind eyes, even raised the dead. Of course He had the power to rip Himself free from those nails. But if He had chosen self-preservation, every soul in history would’ve been left without hope. Without salvation. Without eternal life. Hebrews 9:22 doesn’t mince words: “Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins.” Our salvation hinged on His refusal to escape. He endured the cross, scorning its shame, because His eyes were locked on the joy of bringing many sons and daughters into glory (Hebrews 12:2). Out of the depth of His love, He refused to come down.

Why couldn’t forgiveness come another way? Because God’s holiness won’t allow sin, His justice requires its penalty—death (Romans 6:23), and His truthfulness won’t deny His Word. From the beginning He declared death as the wage of rebellion (Genesis 2:17). Even Jesus prayed, “Father, if possible, let this cup pass” (Matthew 26:39). But it didn’t—because there was no other way.

In our own lives, we oftentimes crave the shortcut out of pain. But in many cases, the greatest triumphs come not by saving ourselves, but by surrendering—trusting God’s purposes even when it stings. Even when it hurts. Even when it is the most painful experience we’ve ever endured, we’re called to lay down our lives—our pride, our comfort, our control—for the sake of others. That’s how we mirror Christ’s heart.

So what now? Live in awe of what His sacrifice achieved—your forgiveness, your eternal life, your freedom. And then, walk in His footsteps. When obedience to Christ feels costly or downright painful, remember Jesus. The cross was the ultimate act of “not saving Himself” so He could save you. Let that truth ignite your faithfulness when sacrifice is required.

May the Lord flood you with fresh wonder at the cross today. May He deepen your gratitude that Jesus chose not to save Himself, so you could be saved forever. And may He empower you to follow His lead—laying down your life in love, knowing that resurrection joy always follows the cross. 

October 6 — "What Should I Do With Jesus?"

 Today's Reading: Matthew 27:1-23

Pilate’s haunting question in Matthew 27 still echoes through eternity: “Then what shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?” Indecision about Christ is, in fact, a decision.  You can’t dodge it, delay it, or delegate it. Every man, woman, and young person must answer it for themselves. Pilate tried to sidestep the weight of responsibility—and in doing so, he sealed his own tragedy. The crowd roared, “Crucify Him!”—Pilate acquiesced to their roar. And that same choice confronts us today.

Here’s the bottom line: you’re either for Jesus or against Him. No fence-sitting allowed. Pilate wanted to stay neutral, but neutrality toward Christ is rejection. Jesus Himself said, “Whoever is not with me is against me” (Matthew 12:30). Maybe you’re not hostile. Maybe you even admire Him. But let’s be clear—admiration won’t save you. Only faith and surrender will.

In reality, every single day, you’re making a decision about Jesus. Will you follow Him? Or will you push Him to the sidelines? Will you let the opinions of others, the pull of culture, or the fear of standing out keep you from Him? Pilate chose the crowd over Christ. Don’t make the same mistake.

The cross shouts how much God loves you. Jesus died so your sins could be forgiven. The empty tomb declares He is alive and mighty to save. And now He stands at the door of your heart, knocking, desiring to come in an bring you salvation. (Revelation 3:20) What will you do with Him? This is a personal decision—and only YOU can make it!

This is your moment. Don’t wash your hands of Jesus like Pilate. Don’t let the crowd drown out your conscience. Say yes to Him today. Give Him your heart. He gave everything for you—now it’s your turn to give everything to Him. If you’d like to accept Christ right now, you can pray this simple prayer from your heart:

• “Lord Jesus, I know that I am a sinner, but I believe You died on the cross for me. I believe You rose again from the dead. Right now, I turn from my sin and I open the door of my heart to You. I ask You to come in and be my Savior and Lord. From this day forward, I want to follow You. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

And now may the Lord flood your heart with peace as you walk in newness of life. May He strengthen you to stand boldly for Him and fill you with the joy of salvation that never fades. Amen

 

October 5 — "The Moment That Shook the Courtroom"

Today's Reading: Matthew 26:47-75

The moment Jesus uttered the words of Matthew 26:64, you could almost hear the oxygen leave the room. Silence. Then—boom!—an explosion of outrage. Standing before the high priest, Jesus declared, “Soon you’ll see it for yourself: The Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Mighty One, arriving on the clouds of heaven.” No fluff. No ambiguity. This was His legal testimony—His divine identity, spoken out loud.

And oh, was it loaded. By referencing Psalm 110:1, Jesus claimed the seat at God’s right hand—the throne of divine authority and ultimate kingship. Then He dropped Daniel 7:13–14 into the mix, identifying Himself as the Son of Man who rides the clouds of heaven, the eternal ruler entrusted with dominion over every nation. Translation? “I am the Messiah. I share God’s throne. And I’m coming back in glory—to judge the world, including you.”

Cue the high priest’s meltdown. He tore his robes in fury, convinced he’d just heard blasphemy. In Jewish tradition, ripping one’s garments was the ultimate sign of grief, shock, or outrage. To him, Jesus wasn’t just making a bold claim—He was equating Himself with Yahweh. And unless it was true, that was the highest offense imaginable. That’s why this moment hits like a thunderclap—it demands a verdict. Everyone in that room, and every reader since, must decide: Is He the King of glory—or not? No fence-sitting allowed.

And here’s where it lands in our lives. If Jesus truly reigns at the right hand of Power, then your life isn’t random, your faith isn’t wasted, and your future isn’t fragile. You belong to the One who rules with absolute authority. That changes everything. It means that in your darkest season, Jesus isn’t pacing nervously—He’s reigning from Heaven. It means that when the world mocks or rejects Christ, you already know the ending: He’s coming with the clouds, and every eye will see Him.

So let’s not respond like the high priest, who tore his robes in rage and missed the truth standing right in front of him. Instead, let’s tear away our pride, our doubts, our fear—and wrap ourselves in faith and boldness. The One who testified in that courtroom is the same One who reigns today—and He’s coming soon in glory.

And now, may the Lord grant you courage to confess Christ with joy, strength to live under His authority, and hope that lifts your eyes to the clouds of His coming. Amen. 

October 4 — "Willing Spirits Vs. Weak Flesh"

Today's Reading: Matthew 26:31-46

The core message of Matthew 26:41 is sharp, simple, and soul-stirring: stay awake in prayer, because your willpower will only carry you so far. Jesus spoke these words to His disciples in Gethsemane, just moments before His arrest. They wanted to stand firm for Him—but their eyelids drooped, their strength gave out, and their noble intentions crumbled. This verse is a holy wake-up call: the Christian life cannot be powered by human grit alone. It demands a posture of spiritual alertness and deep dependence on the Lord.

Inside every believer, there’s a daily battle—an inner tug-of-war. On one side stands the “willing spirit”—that part of us that genuinely longs to obey Jesus, to pray, to love well, to live holy. On the other side? The “weak flesh”—our frailty, our cravings, our laziness, our endless excuses. Jesus named this tension: “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Paul echoed this in Romans 7:18: “For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out.” The disciples meant to stand with Him—but they snoozed instead. Their hearts were loyal; their bodies bailed.

And let’s be honest—this isn’t just their story. It’s ours. We want to pray, but our thoughts scatter. We want to forgive, but bitterness sneaks back in. We want to resist temptation, but our flesh whispers, “Just this once…” This inner tug reminds us: desire alone won’t cut it. Good intentions buckle under pressure unless they’re backed by God’s strength. That’s why Jesus didn’t say, “Try harder.” He said, “Watch and pray.” He wasn’t calling for clenched fists—He was inviting seeking hearts.

This means we must quit trusting our flesh to do what only the Spirit can accomplish. A willing heart is a beautiful beginning—but it’s prayer and dependence that transform willpower into actual obedience. Through prayer, the Holy Spirit renews our strength, fortifies our resolve, and lifts us above the drag of the flesh.

So stay spiritually awake. Stay connected. Make prayer part of your daily rhythm—not just your emergency button. Keep short accounts with God: confess your weakness, ask for fresh strength, and tune your ear to His voice. Don’t loathe your frailty—let it drive you deeper into His power. The more we lean on Him, the more we’ll see victories where failure used to reign.

Today, may the Lord give you grace to recognize the inner battle and wisdom to lean into His Spirit. May your willing heart be lifted by His strength, and may your weak flesh lose its grip as His life flows through you. 

October 3 — "The Cup of Identification"

Today's Reading: Matthew 26:1-30

The upper room was hushed, holy, and heavy with meaning as Jesus lifted a cup and spoke words that would forever reshape how His followers understood God’s love. “Drink of it, all of you.” With that simple yet seismic act, Jesus revealed the cost of our redemption—His blood, poured out. The cup didn’t contain His literal blood, but it represented the sacrifice that would soon be made.

When Jesus handed His disciples the bread and the cup, He wasn’t offering a quaint metaphor or empty ritual. Eating and drinking are the most primal ways we take something external and make it internal—fully absorbed, fully ours. Once consumed, it becomes part of our very makeup. In that moment, Jesus extended an invitation so radical it bordered on scandalous: “Let these elements represent Me. Take My life, My sacrifice, My body and blood into your being. Let what I’ve done shape who you are.”

This wasn’t about casual belief or polite agreement. This was about full-throttle identification. Just as food becomes indistinguishable from the one who eats it, Christ was saying, “I want to be that close. Not just in your thoughts, but in your bloodstream, your breath, your bones.” It’s the living fulfillment of His earlier words in John 6:56: “Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.” Not literal consumption—but a vivid, Gospel-rooted picture of abiding in Him.

Let that sink in. To take Christ in is to let Him rewire everything—your thoughts, your priorities, your desires. This isn’t a Sunday-only faith; it’s a total overhaul where His mission becomes your mission, His cross your cross, His love your lifestyle. It’s not about keeping Jesus at a safe distance as a revered Savior; it’s about Him dwelling so deeply within you that your life beats with His rhythm.

So what now? We must stop treating Jesus like a spiritual accessory and start embracing Him as our very essence. Every time you take communion, let it be more than a ritual. Let it be a declaration: “Jesus, I want You inside of me. Take over. Live through me.” This is the sacred shift—from belief to embodiment, from admiration to incarnation.

May the Lord grant you boldness to receive Him fully, without flinching. May His life surge through your veins, His mission shape your steps, and His presence become the very heartbeat of your soul.