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“A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’”
— John 20:26

It had been a full week since the world turned upside down.

A week since thorns pierced His brow.

A week since the sun darkened and the earth shook.

A week since the heavy stone sealed what felt like all their hopes inside a grave.

And even though the tomb was empty, the house was still locked.

Fear lingered. Questions remained. Even joy, when it peeked through, was shadowed by uncertainty.

Thomas had not yet seen.
The others had seen and still struggled to believe fully.

Could it really be true? Could hope survive wounds that deep?

One week after the resurrection, the disciples were still hiding, learning that resurrection is not just an event — it’s a re-making of the heart.

And then, quietly, Jesus came. Again.

Through locked doors.
Through locked hearts.

Through the silence of a wounded faith.

And He spoke the same words He had spoken before: “Peace be with you.”

He did not shame their slow belief. He did not condemn their careful hope. Instead, He came closer. He showed His wounds again. He invited Thomas to touch, to see, to believe.

This is the Jesus who meets us even after the first hallelujah fades.
The Jesus who understands that sometimes it takes more than a morning to heal a broken hope. The Jesus who comes again, not once but as many times as it takes, until faith takes root.

If today you find yourself like Thomas — still waiting, still wondering, still aching for proof — know this:

Jesus is not afraid of your doubts. He is not offended by your questions. He will come to you. Through every locked place. Over every fear. Through every moment of silent waiting.

And when He comes, He still speaks the words we need most:

“Peace be with you.”

Let’s pray-

Lord, You come to us even when the doors of our hearts are locked. You come to us even when fear still lingers and faith feels fragile. Thank You for your patience, for your peace, and for your presence that never leaves. Teach us to trust You in the waiting.
Help us to see Your wounds and know they have made a way for our healing. Breathe peace into the places where doubt still whispers,
and remind us that You are always near, even when we cannot yet see.in Jesus’ name, amen.”

“But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” Genesis 50:20

On the surface, Good Friday seems like a contradiction. How can we call good a day marked by betrayal, blood, mockery, thorns, and death? How can the crucifixion of Jesus—God’s perfect Son—be anything but tragic?

But this is the mystery and majesty of God’s redemptive love: He is the only One who can turn the worst day in history into the doorway to eternal hope.

As Jesus hung on the cross, gasping for breath, bearing the weight of the world’s sin, the skies grew dark and the earth trembled. To those watching, it looked like evil had won. Rome had crushed another rebel. The religious leaders had silenced a threat. His disciples had scattered. And yet—this was God’s plan unfolding.

In Genesis 50:20, Joseph speaks to his brothers who sold him into slavery: “You meant it for evil, but God meant it for good.” That same truth echoes on Good Friday. The enemy meant the cross for destruction. But God turned it into the greatest victory of all time. Through Christ’s suffering, He purchased our healing. Through His death, He gave us life.

The pain was real. The sacrifice was brutal. But the outcome? Salvation for all who believe. That’s why we call it Good Friday—not because of what Jesus endured, but because of what it accomplished. The cross wasn’t the end of the story—it was the beginning of redemption.

Good Friday reminds us that even the darkest moments are not beyond the reach of God’s redeeming power. Sunday is coming. And with it, resurrection. Hold on to hope, because with God, what looks bad can always be made good.

Heavenly Father, thank You for enduring the agony of the cross so that I could be free. Thank You for turning what was meant for evil into the greatest good the world has ever known. Help me to trust You in my dark days, knowing that You can redeem every loss, every wound, and every sorrow. Because of You, I have hope. In Jesus’ name, amen.

“Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: ‘Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it. What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?’” — Mark 8:34–36 (NIV)

In this sobering passage, Jesus flips the world’s values on their head. He doesn’t sugarcoat discipleship. He doesn’t promise comfort or applause. He calls us to deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow Him.

The Greek word for “take up” is αἴρω (airō), meaning “to lift up, raise, or bear.” It’s used in other places in Scripture to describe lifting burdens, raising hands, and even lifting up voices in praise. So when Jesus says to take up our cross, He’s not asking us to drag it reluctantly behind us. He’s calling us to raise it, to elevate the cause of Christ in our lives daily, publicly, and purposefully.

The cross we raise is not merely the pain we endure, but the purpose we choose.

The paradox Jesus presents is haunting and liberating: If you save your life, you’ll lose it; if you lose it for His sake, you’ll save it.

In other words, the more we clutch our ambitions, comforts, or worldly accomplishments, the more we lose sight of eternal significance. But when we lay down our plans, reputations, and even our dreams in surrender to God’s will, we find our true identity and destiny in Christ.

This connects beautifully with verse 36:

“What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?”

That verse forces a hard question: What are we chasing? Accolades? Security? Approval? The cross confronts all of that. It is not just a symbol of death—it is an altar of exchange. When we take up our cross, we lay down our desire to be the author of our own stories, and we trust the pen to God.

To “take up” our cross each day means we raise up the name of Jesus in our choices, our responses, and even our sacrifices. We raise up His purpose above our comfort. We raise up His will above our wandering. We raise up the Gospel over our goals.

Every time we deny selfish ambition, every time we forgive when we want revenge, every time we surrender our timeline for His—we lift the cross high.

It is in raising our cross that we reveal the kingdom. It is in losing our grip on worldly gain that we find eternal treasure.

What part of your life are you trying to “gain” that might be costing your soul more than you realize?

What would it look like to raise your cross today in a way that honors Christ?

Are there ambitions or goals you need to lay down to truly follow Jesus?

Lord, help me see the areas where I’m clinging to the world instead of clinging to You. Teach me to deny myself, take up my cross, and follow You with a full and surrendered heart. May I raise the cause of Christ in my life today and every day. In Jesus’ name, amen.

“Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it.” – Mark 8:34-35

In Mark 8, we see a powerful shift in Jesus’ teaching. After Peter declares that Jesus is the Christ—and then immediately objects to the idea of Jesus suffering—Jesus turns to the crowd and calls them to a deeper understanding of what it truly means to follow Him: deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Me.

This was a jarring statement to His listeners. The cross was not a symbol of beauty or hope in their context—it was a brutal instrument of death. So, when Jesus told them to take up their cross, He wasn’t talking about carrying a burden or enduring inconvenience. He was speaking of death—death to self.

As we follow Jesus to His Cross, we carry our own. But what is our cross? It’s not just suffering or hardship. Our cross is the place where our will is crucified so His will can live in us.

It is the daily surrender of our desires, our plans, our preferences—even our dreams—to yield to the authority of Jesus Christ.

Sometimes we want something so badly that we try to convince ourselves it’s God’s will. Sometimes we think our way is more effective, more efficient, or even more merciful. But the call of discipleship is not to advise Jesus—it’s to follow Him. Even when His path leads us to discomfort. Even when it asks more than we expected to give.

“Not my will, but Yours be done.” (Luke 22:42)

Jesus didn’t just teach this—He lived it. He carried His cross willingly, knowing it would lead to pain, shame, and death. And He calls us to do the same, not out of guilt, but out of love, trust, and obedience.

The heaviest part of carrying our cross is not external—it’s internal. The weight we bear is often our pride, our need for control, our comfort, our opinions, our insistence that our way is better.

But when we nail those things to the cross, something incredible happens: resurrection life begins to flow.

“I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.” (Galatians 2:20)

There is freedom in crucifixion—freedom from the exhausting need to be right, to be in control, to get our way. There is peace when we surrender to His Word and His will.

Jesus said, “Whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for Me and the gospel will save it.”

This is the paradox of the cross: when we die to self, we come alive in Christ. When we let go of our grip on life, we discover the life we were made for. It’s not about self-preservation—it’s about full surrender.

Taking up our cross is not a one-time decision—it’s a daily posture. Every day we must choose to crucify our selfishness, our pride, and our need to be in control. And in doing so, we find true life.

To follow Jesus is to walk the road to the cross—but it is also to walk the road to resurrection.

Lord, help me to carry my cross daily. Teach me to surrender—not just the big things but the quiet, hidden corners of my will that still resist You. Let me not only call You Christ, but also obey You as Lord. Crucify in me anything that competes with You, and fill me with resurrection life. Even when I falter, thank You for staying near. I want to follow You—fully and freely. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

 

“And Jesus went on with His disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi. And on the way, He asked His disciples, ‘Who do people say that I am?’ And they told Him, ‘John the Baptist; and others say, Elijah; and others, one of the prophets.’ And He asked them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Peter answered Him, ‘You are the Christ.’”
— Mark 8:27-29 (ESV)

“And Jesus answered him, ‘Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but My Father who is in heaven.’”
— Matthew 16:17 (ESV)

Have you ever looked at something but not truly seen it? Maybe it was a moment of searching for your keys only to realize they were in your hand, or missing an important detail in a conversation because you were distracted. Sometimes, vision isn’t just about our eyes—it’s about our understanding.

Jesus asked His disciples a critical question: “Who do people say that I am?” They responded with various opinions—John the Baptist, Elijah, or one of the prophets. But then Jesus asked a deeper, personal question: “Who do you say that I am?”

Peter’s response—“You are the Christ”—wasn’t just an educated guess or a well-reasoned opinion. It was revelation. Jesus made it clear in Matthew 16:17 that Peter did not figure this out on his own: “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but My Father who is in heaven.” Peter saw Jesus clearly—not with physical sight but with spiritual vision given by God.

This kind of insight is essential in our daily lives. We are constantly faced with decisions, struggles, and questions about our faith and purpose. The world offers many answers, just as the people in Jesus’ day had various opinions about who He was. But true clarity—about Jesus, about life, about our calling—only comes through divine revelation.

In Mark 8:22-26, just before this moment, Jesus healed a blind man in stages—first seeing people as “trees walking” and then gaining full clarity. This is a picture of how we need God’s touch to truly see. Without revelation, we see life dimly, making decisions based on incomplete knowledge. But with God’s insight, we gain clarity and direction.

Ask God for Vision:
Pray for divine revelation in your walk with Christ. Ask God to open your spiritual eyes, just as He did for Peter, so that you see Jesus clearly in your life.

Seek God’s Wisdom:
In moments of uncertainty, don’t just rely on human understanding. Seek God’s voice through prayer and His Word.

Walk in Revelation:
When God gives you insight, trust it. Peter’s revelation of Christ set the foundation for his calling. Likewise, when God reveals something to you, act on it with faith.

What areas of your life do you need God’s revelation in right now? Are you willing to seek Him and trust what He shows you?

Heavenly Father, I don’t want to rely only on what I see or what others say. I want to see with spiritual eyes, to know You not just by knowledge but by revelation. Open my heart and mind to understand Your truth, to recognize Your presence in my life, and to walk in the wisdom that comes from You alone. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

“Then Elisha prayed and said, ‘O Lord, please open his eyes that he may see.’ So the Lord opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw, and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.”
—2 Kings 6:17 (ESV)

In 2 Kings 6:8-23, we find the prophet Elisha and his servant surrounded by an enemy army. The servant, understandably terrified, sees only danger and certain defeat. But Elisha, calm and assured, prays, “O Lord, open his eyes that he may see.” Suddenly, the servant’s vision shifts. The hills are ablaze with heavenly forces—chariots of fire standing guard. God’s presence was there all along; the servant just couldn’t see it.

How often do we find ourselves like that servant? Surrounded by challenges, feeling isolated and overwhelmed, blind to the fact that God is with us. In those moments, we must pray for spiritual vision—eyes to see that “those who are with us are more than those who are with them” (v. 16). God’s protection, provision, and presence are constants in our lives, even when our earthly eyes can’t perceive them.

But the story doesn’t end there. After God strikes the enemy with blindness at Elisha’s request, something remarkable happens. Elisha doesn’t take advantage of their vulnerability. Instead of leading them into a trap or calling for their destruction, Elisha leads them to safety, restores their sight, speaks to them kindly, and even prepares a feast for them. Imagine that: feeding the very people who came to capture him! This act of unexpected kindness and dignity not only disarmed the enemy physically but also spiritually. As Scripture says, “And the Syrians did not come again on raids into the land of Israel” (v. 23). Elisha’s vision wasn’t just to see God’s protection—it was to see God’s purpose for reconciliation and peace, even with his enemies.

We often pray for God to help us see His presence in our lives, especially in times of trouble. But do we also pray for the vision to see how God wants us to act in the lives of others, even those who oppose us? Elisha teaches us that divine vision is twofold:

Vision to see God’s presence in our own lives:

When we’re surrounded by difficulties—whether personal struggles, conflict, or fear—we must ask God to open our eyes to His power and presence. His heavenly armies are with us, even when we can’t see them.

Vision to be God’s representative in others’ lives:

Especially with those who challenge us, God calls us to see them through His eyes. Can we show kindness where the world expects retaliation? Can we extend dignity where others anticipate judgment? Elisha’s grace toward his enemies led to peace—what could our grace lead to in the lives of those around us?

Heavenly Father, open our eyes to see Your presence in the midst of our challenges. Help us to trust that You are always near, surrounding us with Your protection and love. But don’t stop there, Lord. Give us the vision to see others, even those who oppose us, through Your eyes. Teach us to be instruments of Your grace, kindness, and reconciliation. May our actions reflect Your love, and may they lead to peace and transformation in the lives of those we encounter. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Challenge:

Think of someone in your life who has been difficult to love—maybe even someone who has opposed or hurt you. Pray for God to give you a vision for how you can represent Him in that person’s life. It could be through a kind word, an unexpected act of service, or simply praying for their well-being. Watch how God can use your obedience to bring about peace, just as He did through Elisha.

“But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing… But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen… But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face.” – Matthew 6:3, 6, 17 (NIV)

In Matthew 6, Jesus teaches about three powerful spiritual disciplines—giving, prayer, and fasting—not as isolated acts but as an intertwined “three-strand cord” of spiritual strength. Each discipline alone is transformative, but when practiced together, they create a synergy that deepens our relationship with God and aligns us with His purposes. Giving detaches us from materialism and selfishness, directing our hearts toward generosity and trust in God’s provision.

Prayer cultivates intimacy with the Father, allowing us to align our desires with His will and receive divine guidance. Fasting, the often-neglected discipline, humbles the flesh, heightens spiritual sensitivity, and clears distractions, enabling deeper dependence on God. Jesus emphasizes that these acts should not be done for public recognition but in secret, where the Father, who sees all, rewards openly (Matthew 6:4, 6, 18).

Together, they represent a holistic surrender—giving affects how we relate to others, prayer affects how we relate to God, and fasting affects how we relate to ourselves. This threefold practice draws us closer to the heart of God, breaks spiritual strongholds, and releases divine breakthrough.

Like Ecclesiastes 4:12 states, “A threefold cord is not quickly broken,” so too, when giving, prayer, and fasting are woven together, they form an unshakable foundation of faith that withstands trials and invites the power of God into every area of our lives.

Heavenly Father, as we conclude our 21 days of prayer and fasting in the coming week, may we experience the full power of the three-strand cord of giving, prayer, and fasting, in Jesus’ name!

Scripture: Matthew 6:1-4, 16-24

In Matthew 6, Jesus teaches about three key spiritual disciplines: giving, praying, and fasting. Each of these disciplines is meant to shape our hearts and align us with God’s kingdom. But they also reveal something deeper—our true affections and priorities.

Jesus begins by instructing His followers on how to give:

“But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” (Matthew 6:3-4)

Giving is not just about meeting needs; it’s about the condition of our hearts. The way we handle money reveals what we truly serve. Later in this chapter, Jesus makes a bold statement:

“No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.” (Matthew 6:24)

Jesus is clear—our allegiance cannot be divided. Money is a powerful tool, but it can also become a master. The ultimate test of whether we serve money is our willingness to give it away. If we cling to money, fearful of letting go, it may be that money has a greater hold on us than we realize.

Fasting, like giving, is another discipline that reveals what controls us. Jesus says:

“When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full.” (Matthew 6:16)

Fasting detaches us from physical dependence, reminding us that God alone is our provider. In the same way, giving detaches us from material dependence. When we give sacrificially, we declare that money is not our security—God is.

If we struggle to give, it may be that money has too much control over our hearts. But if we give freely, regardless of how much or how little we have, we demonstrate that our trust is in God alone.

Heavenly Father, search my heart and reveal any place where money has become my master. Help me to trust You as my provider, to give freely, and to live with an open hand. Teach me to fast and give in a way that draws me closer to You, so that my heart is fully devoted to serving You alone. In Jesus’ name, amen.