Jack hates school. The lectures on algebra, grammar, and the periodic table bore him. But he loves building houses. His father takes him to work in the summer, and Jack can’t get enough. He’s only sixteen but he knows about cement, shingles, and how to frame a wall. What’s the difference between school and construction? Love. Jack loves one and not the other. His love fuels knowledge.

As believers in Jesus, we’re to “love the truth” (2 Thessalonians 2:10). Paul says a satanic figure will use “signs and wonders” (v. 9) to deceive “those who are perishing” (v. 10). Why are they perishing? “They refused to love the truth and so be saved” (v. 10). Their failure to love the truth blinds them from knowing it. They’ll be duped (v. 11).

What do we know? That important question depends on a more basic one: what do we love? Our passions incline our heart and direct our mind. We cherish what we love. We protect it and seek more of it. If we love truth and wisdom we’ll search for them as precious gold (Proverbs 4:7-9). They’ll guard us. “Do not forsake wisdom, and she will protect you; love her, and she will watch over you” (4:6).

What is true wisdom? Jesus says it’s Him. “I am the way and the truth and the life” (John 14:6). Our most important question is who do we love? Love Jesus and you’ll learn His way. He’ll guard your life by guiding you into His truth.

A man named Hidesaburō Ueno taught at Tokyo’s Imperial University in the 1920s. Every afternoon he returned on the 3:00 p.m. train to find his dog, Hachiko, waiting for him. One day Professor Ueno suffered a stroke during class and died. When he didn’t get off the afternoon train, Hachiko lingered a while then went home. The dog returned the next day at 3:00, and the next day, and the day after that, for ten years. Hachiko’s loyalty touched the hearts of many Japanese, who came to sit with him.

Elisha was similarly committed to his master, Elijah. On the day Elisha knew he would lose him, Elisha refused to let him out of his sight. Then a chariot of fire whisked Elijah to heaven. Elisha choked out what he saw, “My father! My father! The chariots and horsemen of Israel!” (2 Kings 2:12). He picked up Elijah’s cloak, the symbol of the prophet’s power that had parted the Jordan moments earlier (v. 8), and asked, “Where now is the Lord, the God of Elijah?” (v. 14). He struck the water, which parted as it had for his master. What a bittersweet day!

Have you lost someone you love? No words can do justice to your pain. Every sob releases memories of the love you shared. You hurt deeply because you loved deeply. How bittersweet! Thank God for them, and for your capacity to love. Elisha picked up Elijah’s cloak. What might you do?

Joan groaned when she saw Susan’s social media post. The photo showed ten church friends, smiling around a restaurant table. For the second time this month, they were having a grand time—without her. Joan blinked away tears. She didn’t always get along with the others, but still. How strange to attend church with people who didn’t include her!

How strangely first century! From the church’s beginning, people who didn’t get along found common ground in Jesus. Jews looked down on gentiles for not keeping the law, and gentiles loathed Jews for thinking they were better. Then Jesus “made the two groups one.” He “destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by setting aside in his flesh the law with its commands” (Ephesians 2:14–15). Keeping the law no longer mattered. What counted was Jesus. Would Jew and gentile unite in Him?

That depended on their response. Jesus “preached peace to” gentiles “who were far away and peace to” Jews “who were near” (v. 17). Same message, different application. Self-righteous Jews needed to admit they weren’t better, while snubbed gentiles needed to believe they weren’t worse. Both needed to stop fretting about the other and focus on Christ, who was creating “in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace” (v. 15).

Feeling snubbed? That hurts. It’s not right. But you can be a peacemaker as you rest in Jesus. He’s still our peace.

Mark was a promising young pastor. Then one morning his son, Owen, collapsed and died while kicking a ball with him. Mark was devastated and still grieves the loss. But through his pain he’s become a more compassionate pastor. I’ve mourned with Mark and wondered if his trial illustrates A. W. Tozer’s insight, “It is doubtful whether God can bless a man greatly until he has hurt him deeply.” I fear that’s true.

Then again, perhaps it’s not that simple. We learn about the complexity of God’s ways by observing the exodus of Israel. God led the young nation out of Egypt on an easy road, saying of Israel, “If they face war, they might change their minds and return to Egypt” (Exodus 13:17). Yet a few verses later God told Moses to double back so Pharaoh would rally his army and come out to fight (14:1-4). Pharaoh took the bait. The Israelites “were terrified and cried out to the Lord” (v. 10). Moses chided them, “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still” (v. 14).

God uses both easy and hard paths to grow His people and bring Him glory. He promised, “I will gain glory for myself through Pharaoh and all his army, and the Egyptians will know that I am the Lord” (v. 4). So did Israel. So can we. God is building our faith through every test, whether easy or hard. When life is easy, rest in Him. When life is hard, let Him carry you.

I loved my weekend in New Orleans—happening upon a parade in the French Quarter, visiting the World War II Museum, and trying grilled oysters. But as I fell asleep in my friends’ spare room, I missed my wife and kids. I enjoy opportunities to preach in other cities, but I most enjoy being home.

One aspect of Jesus’ life that’s sometimes overlooked is how many of His most important events happened on the road. The Son of God entered our world in Bethlehem, an incalculable distance from His heavenly home and far from His family’s hometown of Nazareth. The house was overflowing with extended family in town for the census, so Luke says there wasn’t even a spare katalyma, or “guest room” available (Luke 2:7).

What was missing at Jesus’ birth did show up at His death. As Jesus led His disciples into Jerusalem, He told Peter and John to prepare for their Passover Meal. They should follow a pitcher-carrying man to his home and ask the owner for the katalyma—the guest room where Jesus and His disciples could eat the Last Supper (22:10–12). There, in borrowed space, Jesus instituted the Communion that foreshadowed His looming crucifixion (vv. 17–20).

We love home, but if we travel with the Spirit of Jesus, even a guest room can be a place of communion with Him.

Family gathered around the bed of Dominique Bouhours, a seventeenth-century grammarian who was dying. As he took his final breaths, he reportedly said, “I am about to—or I am going to—die; either expression is correct.” Who would care about grammar on their deathbed? Only someone who cared about grammar his entire life.

By the time we reach old age we’re largely set in our ways. We’ve had a lifetime for our choices to harden into habits that calcify into character—good or bad. We are who we’ve chosen to become.  

It’s easier to develop godly habits while our character is young and flexible. Peter urges, “Make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love” (2 Peter 1:5–7). Practice these virtues, and “you will receive a rich welcome into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” (v. 11). 

Which traits in Peter’s list are most alive in you? Which qualities still need work? We can’t change who we’ve become, but Jesus can. Ask Him to transform and empower you. It may be a slow, arduous journey, but Jesus specializes in providing exactly what we need. Ask Him to transform your character so you become more and more like Him.

Bob Salem holds the speed record for pushing a peanut up Pike’s Peak with his nose—or rather, with a spoon attached to his face. He accomplished the feat in seven days, working at night to avoid interruption from tourists. Bob is the fourth person to complete this stunt, which means three other very patient people have done it.

We might say their need for patience was self-inflicted, but so often in life that isn’t the case. We need patience. It’s a fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22) and an essential virtue for becoming “mature and complete, not lacking anything” (James 1:4). Patient people keep their heads when everyone around is in full panic. They’d like the situation to be different, but they don’t need it to be. They stay the course, trusting God for wisdom to act wisely (v. 5).

The problem with patience is there’s only one way to learn it. James says “the testing of your faith produces patience” (v. 3 nkjv). Such testing comes in ways big and small. I’m writing this from an airport. My 11:00 p.m. flight was delayed until 2:00 a.m., then canceled. After a night without sleep, I’m chugging coffee and hoping to make it home sometime. I don’t like wasting an entire, drowsy day in an airport, but my loving Father is teaching me patience.  

I pray my lesson is finished for the day, but who knows? Time to check the standby list for the next flight.

Jon was installed as full professor in a prestigious college. His older brother David was pleased, but, as brothers do, he couldn’t resist teasing Jon how he’d wrestled him to the ground when they were boys. Jon had gone far in life, but he’d always be David’s little brother.

It’s hard to impress family—even if you’re the Messiah. Jesus had grown up among the people of Nazareth, so they struggled to believe He was special. Yet they were amazed by Him. “What are these remarkable miracles he is performing? Isn’t this the carpenter? Isn’t this Mary’s son?” (Mark 6:2-3). Jesus noted, “A prophet is not without honor except in his own town, among his relatives and in his own home” (v. 4). These people knew Jesus well, but they couldn’t believe He was the Son of God.

Perhaps you were raised in a godly home. Your earliest memories include going to church and singing hymns. Jesus has always felt like family. If you believe and follow Him, Jesus is family. He “is not ashamed to call [us] brothers and sisters” (Hebrews 2:11). Jesus is our older brother in the family of God! (Romans 8:29). This is a great privilege, but our closeness might make Him seem common. Just because someone is family doesn’t mean they’re not special.

Aren’t you glad Jesus is family, and more than family? May He become more personal, and more special, as you follow Him today.

Annette’s grandson pointed to a cicada shell, “Look grandma, an exoskeleton!” A hasty online search confirmed he was right. A cicada nymph sheds its old structure to grow into its adult form. Humans, on the other hand, have endoskeletons because our support is on the inside—from our bones and cartilage. Annette clicked off her phone and asked her grandson, “What would happen if you lost your skeleton?” He replied, “I would die!”

So would you, and so would I. And not just physically. Our spiritual foundation is Christ, who speaks to us through the Scriptures. The Spirit of God uses the Bible to grow us into mature children of our heavenly Father. The Scriptures are not an exoskeleton that we shed when we grow up. We never outgrow the spiritual foundation of the Bible. Through the guidance of the Holy Spirit, its truth supports us from the inside.

Did you notice the inside language in today’s reading? “I have tried hard to find you;” “I have hidden your word in my heart;” “I have rejoiced in your laws;” “I will study your commandments;” “I will delight in your decrees” (Psalm 119:10-16).

We thrive in our life with Jesus as we hunger for His gracious message: “How sweet your words taste to me; they are sweeter than honey” (v. 103). The Spirit helps the Scriptures go down deep and strengthens us, from the inside.

Actress Sally Field finally felt what we all long for. When she won a second Oscar in 1985, she exclaimed in her acceptance speech: “I’ve wanted more than anything to have your respect. The first time I didn’t feel it. But this time I feel it. And I can’t deny the fact that you like me, right now, you like me.”

An Ethiopian eunuch was also amazed by his acceptance. As a gentile and as a eunuch, he was denied entrance into the temple’s inner courts (see Ephesians 2:11–12 and Deuteronomy 23:1). Yet he yearned to be included. Philip found him returning from another unsatisfying pilgrimage to Jerusalem (Acts 8:27).

The Ethiopian man was reading Isaiah, which promised that eunuchs who “hold fast to my covenant” will receive “an everlasting name” and “[a memorial] within my temple and its walls” (Isaiah 56:4–5). How could this be? Then Philip “told him the good news about Jesus,” and the man responded, “Look, here is water. What can stand in the way of my being baptized?” (Acts 8:35–36).

He was asking, Am I really allowed in? Do I belong? Philip baptized him as a sign that Jesus had bulldozed every barrier (Ephesians 2:14). Jesus embraces—and unites—everyone who turns from sin and puts their trust in Him. The man “went on his way rejoicing.” He finally and fully belonged (Acts 8:39).