We live in a world of constant flux, where nothing is truly stable and even the things that feel permanent haven’t been around that long. Yet Ephesians 1 takes us further back than any of it: God chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world.
We’ve all felt the crash that follows a sugar high—the emotional win, the reassuring word, the earthly success that lifts us for a moment before the bottom drops out again. Paul knew that feeling too, which is why he doesn’t merely greet the Ephesians with good wishes but with something that doesn’t fade: “grace and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”
We all know what it’s like to chase after things that look like they’ll satisfy—achievements, credentials, the sense that we’ve finally earned our place. Ephesians 1:1 stops that chase cold, pressing the question of where our calling and our life as God’s people actually come from.
Paul left a wide path of destruction as he went city to city persecuting God’s people, and yet in 1 Timothy 1:15, even as he names himself the foremost of sinners Jesus came to save, he can say that last part: Jesus came to save him. And He came to save us, too.
Most of us know what it’s like to mean every word of a commitment to God and then watch ourselves fail it just the same. Peter, the disciple who promised to die for Jesus and then denied him three times, knew that feeling better than anyone. John 21 is for all of us who find ourselves in that failed committer camp.
When things feel urgent and broken, we want a solution that works right now—and that impatience is exactly what Luke 19 puts on display as the Palm Sunday crowd shouts “Hosanna” at Jesus, certain he’s about to deliver the instant fix they’ve been waiting for.
As the Israelites finds themselves out in the wilderness for years, Numbers 20 shows a people in a fog of discouragement — even Moses himself loses sight of what God is doing. But even when the discouragement feels overwhelming, we don’t have to let it get the final word.
Little sins that seem almost harmless still multiply until they leave us too blind even for grace. In Genesis 4, Cain’s story is one of just such little sins and it serves as a caution as we tend our own “harmless sins.”
When God’s holiness draws near, our first instinct is often to back away—to put some distance between ourselves and the One whose law shows us how unholy we are. That’s exactly what Israel does in Exodus 20 after hearing the Ten Commandments: they tremble at the mountain and tell Moses, “You speak to us… but do not let God speak to us, lest we die.”
It is easy to read “You shall not commit adultery” and decide that command belongs to someone else. But in Matthew 5, Jesus carries it beyond the outward act into the hidden life of our looks, desires, and thoughts—so where does that leave any of us, and why does God care so deeply about our purity?