Mark 6 opens with a sobering contrast: Jesus is astonishing in wisdom and power, yet He is rejected by the people who think they know Him best. In Nazareth, they can’t get past His ordinary background — “Is not this the carpenter…?”—and they “took offense at him” (vv. 2–3). Jesus names the pain plainly: a prophet is often dishonored at home (v. 4). Mark then gives that hard line—Jesus “could do no mighty work there” (v. 5) — not because His power is weak, but because He does not force signs on hardened hearts; their unbelief leads to less light, not more (vv. 5–6). Yet Jesus keeps moving, teaching village to village, and He extends His work through His disciples (vv. 6–7).
Jesus sends the Twelve out two-by-two with authority over unclean spirits, telling them to travel simply — no extra supplies — so they must depend on God’s provision through hospitality and stay focused on the mission (vv. 7–10). Their message is clear: “people should repent” (v. 12). And if a town refuses to receive them, they shake off the dust as a sober testimony: rejecting the messengers is rejecting the King who sent them (v. 11). Mark then places John the Baptist’s death in the middle of the chapter as a dark warning: faithful prophets are not always honored; sometimes they are punished (vv. 14–29). Herod’s guilty conscience, Herodias’s hatred, and a foolish oath at a self-glorifying banquet end in a righteous man’s blood (vv. 20–28). The shadow is unmistakable: what happened to John points forward to what opposition will try to do to Jesus.
But Mark refuses to leave us in the darkness. When the apostles return, Jesus calls them to rest — yet compassion interrupts the retreat when He sees the crowds “like sheep without a shepherd,” and He begins teaching them “many things” (vv. 31–34). Then He feeds them in the wilderness with five loaves and two fish, satisfying them so fully there are twelve baskets left over (vv. 38–44). The point is not just that Jesus can do miracles, but that He shepherds God’s people the way God promised — providing Word and bread in a deserted place (vv. 34, 41–42). That same night, Jesus goes to pray, sees His disciples straining in the wind, and comes to them “walking on the sea” (vv. 46–48). Their fear is met with His presence and His voice: “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid” (v. 50). Yet Mark adds a humbling note: they were “utterly astounded” because they still “did not understand about the loaves,” and “their hearts were hardened” (vv. 51–52). Finally, wherever Jesus lands—Gennesaret and beyond — people rush the sick to Him, and “as many as touched…were made well” (vv. 53–56). The Kingdom is advancing, even as rejection grows.
🌀 Reflection: Mark 6 asks a piercing question: will familiarity make you miss Jesus? Nazareth stumbled over what was ordinary (v. 3), and even the disciples struggled to connect what they had seen with who Jesus truly is (v. 52). Ask the Lord to soften your heart so you don’t just admire Jesus’s works — you trust Jesus Himself, especially when winds are against you (vv. 48–50).
💬 Mission Challenge: Go encourage someone who is weary or afraid by sharing Mark 6:50 in your own words—remind them that Jesus sees, Jesus comes near, and Jesus speaks peace to frightened hearts (vv. 48–50).
Mark 5 shows Jesus bringing freedom where no human strength can help. On the eastern side of the Sea of Galilee, He meets a man living among tombs — isolated, tormented, and self-destructive, impossible to restrain even with chains (vv. 1–5). The demons know exactly who Jesus is: “Jesus, Son of the Most High God” (v. 7). Jesus commands them out, and when they identify themselves as “Legion,” Mark emphasizes the overwhelming evil that had enslaved this man (vv. 8–9). Jesus permits the demons to enter a herd of pigs, and the herd rushes into the sea and drowns — an unforgettable picture of the destroyer’s intent and of Jesus’ complete authority (vv. 11–13). But the man is found “clothed and in his right mind” (v. 15). Shockingly, the townspeople beg Jesus to leave (v. 17), while the restored man begs to stay with Him (v. 18). Jesus sends him instead as a witness: “Go home…tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you” (v. 19). He obeys, proclaiming in the Decapolis what Jesus did, and “everyone marveled” (v. 20).
Back on the Galilean side, Mark weaves two miracles together to highlight one message: Jesus restores “life” to the helpless, regardless of status (vv. 21–43). Jairus, a synagogue ruler, begs Jesus to save his dying daughter (vv. 22–24). On the way, an unnamed woman — ceremonially unclean for twelve years, impoverished by doctors, and pushed to the margins — touches Jesus’ garment in faith (vv. 25–28). She is immediately healed (v. 29), and Jesus draws her out, not to shame her, but to turn a secret healing into a personal welcome: “Daughter…go in peace” (v. 34). Then the worst news arrives: Jairus’s daughter has died (v. 35). Jesus speaks the same antidote He has been giving all along: “Do not fear, only believe” (v. 36; cf. 4:40). He goes in with Peter, James, and John (v. 37), takes the girl by the hand — overcoming impurity rather than being defiled — and raises her with a simple command, “Talitha cumi” (vv. 41–42). The final detail is tender and grounding: “give her something to eat” (v. 43). The One who commands demons and death is also gentle, present, and personal.
🌀 Reflection: Mark 5 shows two kinds of fear: fear that pushes Jesus away (vv. 15–17), and fear that drives desperate people to His feet (vv. 22–23, 33). Jesus meets the broken with mercy and calls them to faith (vv. 34, 36). Where do you see yourself today — pushing Him out because His power disrupts your “normal,” or coming to Him because you know only He can make you whole?
💬 Mission Challenge: Tell one person this week “how much the Lord has done for you” in a simple, specific way — one mercy, one rescue, one answered prayer, one sustaining grace — and invite them to meet Jesus for themselves (vv. 19–20).
Mark 4 shows Jesus teaching the crowds with parables — stories that both reveal and expose. From a boat on the Sea of Galilee, He tells the parable of the sower, where the same seed falls on different soils (vv. 1–9). When the disciples ask about it, Jesus explains that the issue isn’t the seed — it’s the hearing heart (vv. 10–13). The seed is “the word” (v. 14), and the soils picture responses: some hearts are hardened and Satan snatches the word away (v. 15); some receive it quickly but fall away when trouble or persecution comes (vv. 16–17); some hear, but the worries of the world, the deceitfulness of riches, and other desires choke it out so it bears no fruit (vv. 18–19). But good soil hears, accepts, and bears fruit — real, lasting fruit that grows from a receptive heart (v. 20). In all of this, Jesus is warning “outsiders” and discipling “insiders,” showing that parables can be both mercy and judgment depending on whether we will truly listen (vv. 11–12; cf. Isaiah 6:9–10).
Then Jesus presses the point: what He’s doing is not meant to stay hidden. A lamp isn’t brought in to be buried under a basket — its purpose is to give light (vv. 21–22). So Jesus tells them to “pay attention to what you hear,” because the measure of receptiveness we bring to His word shapes what we receive (vv. 23–25). Next come two kingdom parables that teach patience and hope. The growing seed shows that the kingdom’s growth is real but often quiet — God brings fruit “by itself” in His time, not by our force or control (vv. 26–29). The mustard seed shows the kingdom begins small and unimpressive, yet grows far beyond what anyone expects, becoming a place of shelter and blessing (vv. 30–32). Mark summarizes: Jesus spoke “as they were able to hear it,” and privately explained everything to His disciples (vv. 33–34).
Finally, Mark ties Jesus’ word-parables to a deed-parable. That evening, Jesus takes the disciples across the sea, a violent storm hits, and the boat begins to fill (vv. 35–37). Jesus is asleep — truly human and truly unafraid (v. 38). The disciples wake Him with a question that exposes their fear: “Do you not care…?” (v. 38). Jesus rebukes the wind and commands the sea, and immediately there is calm (v. 39). Then He rebukes their fear and calls them to faith (v. 40). The chapter ends with the right question: “Who then is this…?” — because in Israel’s Scriptures, only God commands the sea (v. 41; cf. Psalm 107:25–30). Mark is helping us see what the disciples are slowly learning: the kingdom is present in Jesus Himself, and His word carries divine authority.
🌀 Reflection: Mark 4 invites you to examine not just whether you hear Jesus, but how you hear Him (vv. 9, 23–24). Hardness, shallowness, and divided desires can all keep the word from taking root (vv. 15–19). And fear can make us question His care even when He’s in the boat with us (vv. 38–40). Ask the Lord to make your heart “good soil” — to hear, accept, and keep bearing fruit, even in storms.
💬 Mission Challenge: Sow one small “mustard-seed” act of gospel faithfulness today: share a Scripture, pray with someone, invite a friend to read Mark with you, or encourage a weary believer — trusting God to grow what you cannot control (vv. 26–29, 31–32).
Mark 3 begins with the final — and climactic — conflict scene that’s been building since Mark 2 (2:1–3:6). Jesus enters the synagogue and sees a man with a withered hand, while His opponents watch like prosecutors, hoping to catch Him “working” on the Sabbath so they can accuse Him (vv. 1–2). Jesus calls the man forward and asks a question that exposes what their rules have done to their hearts: is the Sabbath for doing good and saving life, or for doing harm and killing (vv. 3–4)? Their silence shows their hardness, and Jesus looks at them with anger and grief — because they can’t see that God’s law was never meant to crush mercy (vv. 5; cf. 2:27). Jesus heals the man publicly, and the response is chilling: the Pharisees immediately join with the Herodians — unlikely allies — to begin plotting how to destroy Him (v. 6; cf. Psalm 2:2).
Even as opposition hardens, Jesus’ fame spreads. Crowds pour in from all over — Galilee, Judea, Jerusalem, Idumea, beyond the Jordan, and even regions like Tyre and Sidon — pressing in so tightly a boat has to be ready (vv. 7–10). Demons recognize exactly who He is and fall down, crying out “You are the Son of God,” but Jesus silences them — He will reveal Himself on His terms, not through unclean spirits (vv. 11–12). Then Jesus goes up on a mountain and appoints the Twelve, symbolizing a reconstituted Israel: they are called first “to be with him” and then to be “sent out” to preach and to confront evil with His authority (vv. 13–15). Mark even names them — right down to Judas, who will betray Him — showing that this new community will be formed in the real world, with real weakness, under Jesus’ patient oversight (vv. 16–19).
The chapter closes with two painful misunderstandings — one from “outside” and one from “inside.” Jesus’ family hears what’s happening and tries to restrain Him, saying He’s out of His mind (vv. 20–21). Meanwhile, scribes from Jerusalem escalate the accusation: they can’t deny His power, so they call it satanic, claiming He’s empowered by Beelzebul (v. 22). Jesus answers with clear logic — Satan wouldn’t sabotage Satan — and then gives the deeper truth: He is the stronger One who binds the strong man and plunders his house (vv. 23–27). That’s why the warning is so severe: to look at the Spirit’s work in Jesus and label it demonic is to reject the only source of forgiveness (vv. 28–30). Finally, Jesus redefines family: the true “insiders” are those who gather around Him and do God’s will — obedience that now means listening to and following Jesus (vv. 31–35).
🌀 Reflection: Mark 3 shows how close someone can be to Jesus — and still be far from Him. The Pharisees were near the synagogue and the Scriptures, but their hearts were hard to mercy (vv. 2, 5). Even Jesus’ family was near by blood, yet stood “outside” while the true family sat around Him to hear and obey (vv. 31–35). Pray for a tender heart that loves what God loves: truth and mercy, holiness and compassion.
💬 Mission Challenge: Choose one concrete act of mercy this week: do good and bring life to someone in need — check on a hurting neighbor, serve a burdened family, encourage someone who feels like an outsider — so they taste the restoration Jesus brings (vv. 4–5, 34–35).
Mark 2 opens with a packed house in Capernaum as Jesus “was preaching the Word” (vv. 1–2). Four friends tear open a roof to bring a paralyzed man to Jesus, and Jesus does something shocking first: He forgives the man’s sins (vv. 3–5). The scribes immediately recognize the weight of that claim — only God can forgive sins — so they accuse Jesus of blasphemy in their hearts (vv. 6–7). Jesus answers their unspoken thoughts and then proves His point with a visible miracle: He tells the man to rise and walk, showing that “the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins” (vv. 8–12). The crowd is left amazed, but the bigger issue is now out in the open: Jesus is exercising God’s own authority.
Then the tension grows. Jesus calls Levi (Matthew), a tax collector, and Levi immediately follows (vv. 13–14). Soon Jesus is eating in Levi’s house with “tax collectors and sinners,” which offends the Pharisees and their scribes because table fellowship felt like acceptance (vv. 15–16). Jesus responds with a picture that cuts through religious pretending: doctors go to sick people — He came to call sinners, not the self-assured (v. 17). Next, people challenge Jesus about fasting, but Jesus says His presence is like a wedding — this is a time for joy, though He hints that days are coming when He will be “taken away” (vv. 18–20). His “new cloth/new wine” word pictures make the point: Jesus isn’t a patch on old religion; He brings a new era that can’t be contained by manmade traditions (vv. 21–22).
Finally, the Sabbath controversy surfaces. The disciples pluck grain as they walk, and the Pharisees call it unlawful (vv. 23–24). Jesus points to David eating the bread of the Presence in a moment of real need, showing that God’s Word never meant to treat people like machines (vv. 25–26). Then He declares the heart of Sabbath: it’s a gift for human good, not a crushing burden (v. 27). And He ends with a claim that ties back to the forgiveness scene: “the Son of Man is lord even of the Sabbath” (v. 28). In other words, Jesus isn’t merely interpreting God’s law — He stands over it with divine authority.
🌀 Reflection: It’s possible to be in the room with Jesus and still miss what you most need. The paralytic needed healing, but Jesus went deeper first — forgiveness (v. 5). The scribes knew the right theology (“only God can forgive”), but they refused the right conclusion about Jesus (vv. 7, 10). Ask the Lord for the kind of honest faith that comes to Jesus for the deepest need — not just a better life, but a cleansed heart.
💬 Mission Challenge: Look for one person who feels “too far gone,” “too messy,” or “not church material,” and move toward them with mercy — invite them to coffee, a meal, or simply conversation — so they can see what Mark 2 shows: Jesus welcomes sinners to be made whole (vv. 15–17).
Mark begins fast: this is “the beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God” (v. 1). John the Baptist arrives as the promised messenger, calling people to repent and be baptized as they confess their sins (vv. 2–5; cf. Isaiah 40:3, Malachi 3:1). John makes it clear that he is not the main point — Someone greater is coming, and He will baptize with the Holy Spirit (vv. 7–8). Then Jesus steps into the story, is baptized, and heaven itself speaks: the Father declares Jesus His beloved Son, and the Spirit descends on Him (vv. 9–11; cf. Psalm 2:7, Isaiah 42:1). Right away, Jesus is driven into the wilderness to be tempted, showing that His mission includes open conflict with Satan — but He is not alone, and He stands firm (vv. 12–13).
After John is arrested, Jesus begins proclaiming “the gospel of God” with a clear call: the Kingdom is near — repent and believe (vv. 14–15). He immediately calls disciples to follow Him and to become “fishers of men,” and they leave everything to go with Him (vv. 16–20). What follows is a rapid set of scenes showing Jesus’ authority: His teaching stuns the synagogue because it carries divine weight, and even unclean spirits must obey Him (vv. 21–28). That authority becomes mercy as He heals Peter’s mother-in-law, then many in the whole town, and He casts out demons — yet He refuses to let the demons define His identity (vv. 29–34). Even with crowds pressing in, Jesus rises early to pray, then keeps moving to preach in other towns, because that is why He came (vv. 35–39). Finally, Jesus touches a man with leprosy — something that would have made others recoil — and His touch cleanses the leper instead of defiling Himself (vv. 40–42). The healed man spreads the news, and the crowds grow even more — yet Mark keeps reminding us: Jesus’ miracles matter, but His primary mission is to proclaim God’s saving reign (vv. 38–39, 45).
🌀 Reflection: Mark 1 doesn’t let us treat Jesus like an inspiring teacher we can take or leave. He is the beloved Son with heaven’s approval (v. 11), the King announcing God’s reign (v. 15), and the Savior with authority over sin, sickness, and darkness (v. 27, 34). The question is simple and searching: am I only amazed by Him, or am I actually following Him (vv. 18, 20)?
💬 Mission Challenge: Pray for one person who needs the hope of the gospel, and then take one step toward them today — send a message, start a conversation, or offer to pray — so your life points to Jesus’ call: “repent and believe” (v. 15).
This phase reflects the influence of Peter. The Gospel of Mark is widely understood to preserve Peter’s preaching and eyewitness testimony. Peter’s letters call believers to faithfulness in suffering, holiness in a hostile world, and hope anchored in the return of Christ. Jude echoes those same concerns, warning against false teachers and urging the church to contend for the faith—making it a fitting companion to 2 Peter.
What makes this transition especially meaningful is where Phase 2 ended. Our final reading in Phase 2 was 2 Timothy 4, the ending to Paul’s final letter, written from prison as he awaited martyrdom. In that chapter, Paul asked Timothy to bring John Mark with him, saying, “for he is very useful to me for ministry” (2 Timothy 4:11). That single line carries a beautiful story of restoration. Earlier in Acts, Mark had withdrawn from missionary work, leading to a sharp disagreement between Paul and Barnabas (Acts 13:13, 15:36–40). Yet years later, as Paul’s life and ministry draw to a close, Mark is not only restored — but trusted.
This restoration had already begun. During Paul’s earlier imprisonment, Mark was with him, and Paul instructed the churches to welcome him (Colossians 4:10). By the time Paul writes his final words, Mark is no longer a cautionary tale but a valued coworker.
It is no accident — at least not in the ultimate sense — but neither is it the result of our own brilliant planning. This is one of those quiet God-winks that reminds us the Lord is always telling a bigger story than we realize. As Phase 2 ends with Paul’s final words and his restored confidence in John Mark, Phase 3 begins with Mark’s Gospel. The man once known for faltering becomes the one entrusted with recording Peter’s testimony about Jesus. The gospel that opens this phase is written by a restored servant, shaped by an apostle who knew suffering well, and given to a church learning how to endure faithfully until the end.
Phase 3, then, is not only about persevering in the last days — it is about the God who restores His people, strengthens them through trial, guards them from error, and keeps them faithful until Christ returns.
Below, you’ll find brief synopses of each book in this phase to help you understand the scope of the book and most importantly, how it fits into the full Story of the Bible.
When you click on each day’s link, you will find a link to audio, a summary of the chapter, a key verse from the chapter, and opportunities for reflection and outreach.
We’re moving into Paul’s epistles, which we’ll go through chronologically rather than in the order they appear in our Bibles.
Mark
The Gospel of Mark tells the story of Jesus as the long-promised Savior who has come to bring God’s Kingdom near. From the opening line, Mark moves quickly to show that Jesus is not simply a teacher or miracle worker, but the Son of God who arrives with divine authority (Mark 1:1, 14–15). Rooted deeply in the Old Testament story, Mark presents Jesus as the fulfillment of God’s promises to Israel — One who confronts sin, sickness, demons, and death itself. Yet from the start, Jesus is also misunderstood and opposed, especially by Israel’s leaders, revealing the deep spiritual blindness of the human heart (Mark 2:1–3:6, 4:11–12).
As the story unfolds, Mark emphasizes that Jesus’s identity can only be rightly understood through suffering. Again and again, Jesus reshapes expectations of what the Messiah has come to do. He is the Son of Man with authority, but He is also the suffering Servant who must be rejected, killed, and rise again (Mark 8:31, 10:45). This path to the cross stands at the center of God’s plan of salvation. Jesus triumphs not through power as the world understands it, but through humble obedience, laying down His life as a ransom for many (Mark 14:36, 15:39).
Mark also shows that following Jesus means sharing in this same pattern. True discipleship is not merely believing the right things but living in faithful trust and costly obedience. Those who follow Jesus are called to deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow Him—even in the face of rejection and suffering (Mark 8:34–38). The gospel Mark proclaims climaxes in the crucifixion and resurrection, where Jesus decisively defeats sin and Satan and opens the way for everlasting salvation. In God’s unfolding story, Mark reminds us that the kingdom comes through the cross, and that life is found by following the crucified and risen King.
The letter of 1 Peter was written by the apostle Peter to encourage believers who were suffering because of their faith. From the opening, Peter identifies his readers as God’s chosen people — “exiles” scattered across the provinces of Asia Minor (1 Peter 1:1). Whether that exile language is partly literal or mainly spiritual, the point is clear: Christians live in a world that does not fully welcome them, because their true home and inheritance are with God (1 Peter 1:3–5, 2:11). Peter writes to strengthen weary saints with hope — hope grounded not in easier circumstances, but in the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the sure promise of final salvation when Christ returns (1 Peter 1:3–9, 13).
At the heart of 1 Peter is the pattern of Jesus Himself: suffering now, glory later. Peter reminds believers that their trials do not mean God has abandoned them; rather, suffering for doing good is part of following a crucified and risen Savior (1 Peter 2:21–23, 4:12–13). Jesus’s death is not only an example — it is substitutionary atonement that brings sinners to God (1 Peter 2:24, 3:18). And Jesus’s resurrection and ascension mean evil will not have the final word: Christ has triumphed, and all powers are subject to Him (1 Peter 3:22). Because of what Christ has done, believers have been given new birth into a living hope and are being guarded by God for an inheritance that cannot perish (1 Peter 1:3–5).
That living hope shapes everyday life. Peter calls Christians to holy, love-filled obedience that makes the gospel visible in a hostile culture (1 Peter 1:14–16, 2:11–12). He describes the church as God’s new temple — “living stones” built into a spiritual house — and God’s covenant people: a chosen race, royal priesthood, holy nation, and treasured possession (1 Peter 2:4–10). Then he brings that identity down into the ordinary places where pressure is often felt most — relationships, workplaces, homes, and society — urging believers to do good, to honor authorities rightly, to endure unjust treatment faithfully, and to answer hostility with blessing (1 Peter 2:13–17, 18–20; 3:1–9). In short, 1 Peter teaches Christians how to stand firm in “the true grace of God” (1 Peter 5:12): suffering without losing hope, living holy without becoming harsh, and bearing witness to Jesus while waiting for the day when God will fully vindicate His people.
February 18 — 1 Peter 1
February 19 — 1 Peter 2
February 20 — 1 Peter 3
February 21 — 1 Peter 4
February 22 — 1 Peter 5
2 Peter
2 Peter is a final letter written by the apostle Peter near the end of his life, likely from Rome, as he awaited martyrdom (2 Peter 1:12–15). Like his first letter, it is written to believers facing real pressure, but this time the danger comes from within the church rather than from outside persecution. Peter writes as a spiritual father giving last reminders, urging Christians to hold firmly to what they already know and believe. He points them back to the truth they received from the apostles and from Scripture, reminding them that the gospel they trusted is not a clever story but God’s revealed truth (2 Peter 1:16–21).
In the flow of the Bible’s story, 2 Peter helps God’s people live faithfully in the time between Jesus’s first and second coming. Jesus has already accomplished salvation through his death and resurrection, but the church now waits for his return. During this waiting, false teachers arise, twisting grace into an excuse for sin and questioning whether Jesus will really come back (2 Peter 2:1–3, 3:3–4). Peter responds by showing that God’s patience is not weakness but mercy, giving people time to repent before the day of judgment comes (2 Peter 3:8–9). Just as God judged rebellion in the past and rescued the righteous, he will do so again at the end (2 Peter 2:4–9).
2 Peter calls believers to live in light of where the story is headed. Because God has promised a new heaven and a new earth where righteousness dwells, Christians are to grow in holiness, knowledge, and steadfast faith now (2 Peter 1:5–11, 3:11–13). The letter closes by urging believers not to drift or be carried away by error, but to keep growing in the grace and knowledge of Jesus Christ until the day he returns (2 Peter 3:17–18). In this way, 2 Peter strengthens the church to remain faithful to the truth as it waits for the final fulfillment of God’s saving plan.
February 23 — 2 Peter 1
February 24 — 2 Peter 2
February 25 — 2 Peter 3
Jude
The book of Jude is a short but urgent letter written by Jude, the brother of James and a half-brother of Jesus (Jude 1, Matthew 13:55). Writing in the mid-60s, Jude addresses believers facing a serious danger from within the church. False teachers had quietly slipped in and were twisting God’s grace into an excuse for sinful living (Jude 4). Jude writes as a servant of Jesus Christ, not appealing to family ties, but calling the church to recognize the seriousness of the moment and to respond with faithfulness and courage.
In the flow of the Bible’s Story, Jude speaks to the life of God’s people after Christ has already accomplished salvation. Because Jesus has secured redemption once for all, believers are now responsible to guard and remain faithful to “the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 3). Jude looks back to God’s past acts of judgment and rescue — from the Exodus to Sodom and Gomorrah — to show that God does not ignore rebellion, even among those who claim to belong to Him (Jude 5–7). These warnings remind the church that rejecting God’s truth always leads to destruction, while trusting Him leads to life.
Jude closes by calling believers to persevere with both truth and mercy. They are to build themselves up in faith, pray in the Holy Spirit, and keep themselves in God’s love as they wait for the return of Jesus Christ (Jude 20–21). At the same time, they are to show mercy to those who are wavering, while refusing to compromise with sin (Jude 22–23). The letter ends with a powerful reminder that God himself is the one who keeps His people from falling and will bring them safely into His presence with great joy (Jude 24–25).
February 26 — Jude
Continue reading in our NT260 plan with Phase 4 — That You May Believe.
Sunday is the Lord’s day — and it’s good to prepare our hearts to gather to worship Jesus.
Psalm 96, one of the passages we’ll read from Sunday morning, lifts our eyes to the greatness of God, reminding us that “great is the LORD, and greatly to be praised” (Psalm 96:4). He alone stands above every false god and idol because He is the One who made the heavens, the One before whom “splendor and majesty are before him; strength and beauty are in his sanctuary” (Psalm 96:5–6).
That theme of the greatness of God carries through the songs we’ll sing (Psalm 145:3). We’ll declare that there is nothing and no one greater than God (Isaiah 40:25, Psalm 86:8) and that He alone turns graves into gardens (Ezekiel 37:12-14, Romans 8:11). There is nothing better than our blessed hope, our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ — no rival, no replacement, no greater treasure (Titus 2:13, Philippians 3:8, Colossians 2:3).
To say and sing that God is great is one thing, but to begin to perceive and begin to grasp the magnitude of His greatness is another. Consider the words of the hymn “How Great Thou Art”:
And when I think, that God — His Son not sparing — sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in. That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing, He bled and died to take away my sin.
This beautiful gospel truth magnifies His greatness (Romans 5:8, 1 Corinthians 1:18). God didn’t spare His own Son, but sent Him to the cross (Romans 8:32, John 3:16). Jesus, God in flesh, willingly bore our sin, laying down His life and taking away our sin by His blood (John 1:14, Isaiah 53:5-6, John 10:17-18, Ephesians 1:7, 1 Peter 1:18-19). The greatness of God is most clearly seen in the saving work of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ (Titus 2:13, 2 Corinthians 5:21).
That’s why these “Songs for Sunday” posts exist — not to merely list songs, but to help us prepare. We have the opportunity to read God’s Word and reflect ahead of time, asking the Lord to ready our hearts and our homes so that when we sit under the preaching of God’s Word, it falls on good soil — received, applied, and bearing fruit in our lives. This helps us come not as consumers, sitting in an audience for a concert or seeking to be entertained or educated when John opens God’s Word. It helps us come as worshipers, seeking Christ — and preparing our hearts to meet Him.
Sunday’s coming, y’all. Let’s come ready to worship the great God, to rejoice in our great Savior, and to gather together declaring that there truly is nothing and no one better than Jesus!
Won’t you gather with us?
Here are our Scriptures and songs:
Scripture | Psalm 96:1-6 —
1 Oh sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the LORD, all the earth! 2 Sing to the LORD, bless His name; tell of His salvation from day to day. 3 Declare His glory among the nations, His marvelous works among all the peoples! 4 For great is the LORD, and greatly to be praised; He is to be feared above all gods. 5 For all the gods of the peoples are worthless idols, but the LORD made the heavens. 6 Splendor and majesty are before Him; strength and beauty are in His sanctuary.
5 Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, 6 who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, 7 but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. 8 And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. 9 Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, 10 so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
There are times when it seems that things are better left unsaid, but often too much goes unsaid — too many things are assumed to be known.
Scripture reminds us that what we say matters, that our words matter. Words have the power to bless and shape (James 3:9-10, Proverbs 18:21), and when they are carefully spoken and intentionally kept, they can serve as reminders of what is true in an ever-changing world.
What follows is an ode and blessing I wrote to honor my daughter, Keri, on her 16th birthday — not for attention but for remembrance, not for publicity but for posterity. I wanted this to exist in a form that can be held on to, returned to and read again, reminding her of how she is loved and cherished. I don’t want to leave anything unsaid.
So, here is this ode, this homage from me and Candice to a daughter worthy of being cherished — to a young woman worth writing beautiful words to and about, spoken in love, shaped by Scripture, and published in hopes that she never forgets her parents are thankful for her, proud of her, and in continual pursuit of getting to be a part of her life in all the days the Lord sees fit to give us.
Keri,
Today you turn sixteen, and that’s something worth celebrating — not quietly, not quickly, but joyfully.
Sixteen years of you is a milestone moment that asks us to pause and give thanks, not because the calendar says to, but because we have you. We have you here growing, living, and becoming, and we are grateful for the gift you are. That’s right: on a day when gifts are given and celebrated, we celebrate the gift you are to us.
You give us so much joy.
Joy in who you are right now.
Joy in all the ways you’ve grown.
Joy in the laughter, conversations, quiet moments, and memories made and yet-to-be made.
It’s not about looking back in sadness or forward with fear. It’s a day to rejoice and mark this moment in your life.
At the same time, you know reflection comes naturally to me. Birthdays invite reflection, especially your sweet sixteen. Sixteen sits in a season when things are changing. You are growing in ways that are visible to all and in ways only your mama and I, and all those who walk closely with you, can see. We see the growth and changes, and we delight in it. We are grateful not only for who you have been but for who you are becoming.
This reflection is meant to be more than sentimental. It’s not meant to hold you in place, even though I joke about wishing there was a pause button sometimes keeping everything just as it is. It’s not meant to rush you forward, either. It’s meant to meet you in this moment — to say clearly and joyfully that you are seen, deeply loved, and that we are thankful to get to be your parents as this season unfolds. We celebrate sixteen years of you, but we also recognize and celebrate the goodness of this moment and the faithfulness of God within it.
What I’ve written here is meant for you now, and, Lord willing, for you later — to remind you of what is true today and what will still be true as the seasons continue to change.
A Gift from the Lord
One of the ways we’ve tried to understand our role as your parents is by letting God’s Word shape how we see you — not as something we produced, but as someone we received. Scripture tells us something simple and profound about children: “Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward” (Psalm 127:3). That word “behold” matters. It’s an invitation to stop, look closely, and recognize something that might otherwise be missed. Children aren’t accidents, burdens, or accomplishments. They’re gifts, graciously given by God.
Your mama and I have always seen you that way.
You and Xander are the children whom God has graciously given to us. We didn’t earn you. We don’t own you. We received you. From the beginning, we’ve known that you have been entrusted to us by a faithful God, and that has shaped the way we’ve sought to love you and parent you — and to delight in you.
Psalm 127 goes on to compare children to arrows in the hand of a warrior (vv. 4-5). Arrows are shaped carefully. They are aimed with purpose. And, one day, they are released — not as a loss, but seen as shot where they are aimed. This imagery isn’t about something you hold onto forever but something prepared to be sent out. Even now, as we’re still very much in the season of raising you, this image helps us remember what God intends. He intends you to grow and move and live a life shaped by His goodness and plan. But before arrows are released, they are held. Before they fly, they are formed. That’s where we are now. And in this season, we give thanks — again and again — for the gift you are. We thank God not just for the joy you bring to our lives but for the privilege of getting to be your parents.
Growing into What has been Given
As we’ve watched you grow, we’ve also leaned on Scripture to help us name what we’re seeing — and to remind us what we’ve been praying toward all along. Scripture speaks honestly about what it means for children to grow. Proverbs 22:6 says, “Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.” This verse isn’t a formula or a guarantee. It’s a picture of something planted early in the life of a child that continues to grow and shape life long after childhood is over.
This is the season you’re in now. You’re almost grown but not quite. You’re growing — still needing some parenting and guidance, still needing some care and protection, but we can already see the day coming when you won’t need those same things in the same way. That’s not something we fear, though. It’s something we’ve hoped for and prayed toward.
The goal was never for you to rely on us forever. It was for the things that mattered most — faith, wisdom, discernment, compassion, courage — to take root so deeply within you that they remain when our voices grow quieter. Parenting doesn’t disappear when you grow up; it just takes a different shape. What has been taught, modeled, and lived — good and bad — begins to live within you.
We see this happening already. Your mama and I see you thinking carefully, loving faithfully, and walking with Jesus not because you have to but because He’s your Lord, your Savior. We’ve watched this together — praying for you, talking about you, and giving thanks for the ways He is at work in you. That tells us something important: the work God has been doing in you isn’t dependent upon us. It’s part of who you are. So even as we continue to parent you in this season, we do so with gratitude and trust. We’re grateful for the years God has given us with you, and we trust that what has been planted and begun in you will continue to grow as you do.
We’re still walking with you, still guiding, still loving. But we rejoice that the path you are walking is becoming more and more yours.
A Changing Season
When we try to make sense of how much is changing — and how much is still the same — Scripture has helped us see that this tension isn’t something to fear. Scripture reminds us that “for everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1). Life unfolds not all at once, but in God’s wise and purposeful timing. Seasons come and go, not by accident but by design. We also see in Ecclesiastes 3 that God “has made everything beautiful in its time” (Ecclesiastes 3:11).
Sixteen places you right in the middle of a season like that. You’re not stepping out of childhood all at once, and you’re not fully stepping into adulthood yet, either. You’re in between. But this season is a good, meaningful one, one that God is actively shaping and blessing.
At the same time, as your parents, we’re in an in-between season, too. We still get to guide, protect, and walk closely with you, but our season is shifting as you’re taking on more responsibility, more ownership, and more independence. That change doesn’t take away from what was; it honors it. Every season builds on the one before it.
Ecclesiastes 3 helps us see the beauty in changes like these — the beauty of faithfully stepping into what God has next for us. He doesn’t waste seasons, nor does He abandon His people as their seasons change. The same God who has been faithful to you in this season will be faithful in the seasons that follow.
So, we’ll try not to cling too tightly or let go too quickly. We’re just grateful for where we are with you and trusting God for where you are going. Enjoy this season while it lasts. And know that the next season will be good, too, because God is present and at work in both of them.
Walking Together
Some of the clearest ways we’ve seen God’s goodness in your life haven’t come in big moments but in ordinary ones — moments repeated over time, quietly shaping us as much as they have you.
You might not remember this, but we used to walk to church together in Picayune. We’d walk over early before others got there. You’d sit on the front pew while I practiced songs or sermons, and when you went to children’s church later, there was always a little reminder of your presence left behind: glitter and sparkles, a little shiny shimmer on the pew that made it obvious you had been there, that the sparkly dresses you loved to wear had left their mark on the pew cushion. You had moved on, but a reminder of your presence remained.
Those sparkles became something of an illustration for us. You’ve always left an impression. You’ve been our constant companion through many seasons, simply by being near, or by walking with us, sharing life alongside us — with your mama and me, and with so many who love you. And now, slowly and naturally, that companionship is changing shape.
These days, walking together looks different. You still come with me early to church, but now, you come with purpose of your own. You have a role of your own, getting music together, organizing what needs to be ready, and faithfully serving behind the scenes. The front pew has been replaced by the passenger seat of the truck, the early mornings quieter than they used to be. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we just listen to music or sit in the silence together.
When I look over and see you there, I see the young woman you are becoming — and at the same time, I swear I can still see the little girl you were. The sparkles aren’t on the pew anymore; they’re imprinted in my memory now. One day, you’ll be heading out into the world on your own. But even then, those sparkles will still be there — glimmers of love and presence that time can’t erase.
Walking with you has always been a gift. And as that walk continues, changing and growing as you do, we remain grateful — not just for where we’ve been but for the privilege of walking with you wherever this next season leads. We’ll be ready as the seasons change to shift to following your lead and from our driver’s seat to your passenger seat, just glad to be part of your life — your journey — any way we can be.
A Blessing for This Season and the Ones to Come
All of this leads us here — not away from you, but toward you — to speak a blessing shaped by what we believe God is doing in your life. As we close, we want to speak a blessing over you — not as a goodbye to this season, and not as a rush into what comes next, but as an assurance meant to hold true in every season of your life.
Scripture reminds us that “the LORD will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore” (Psalm 121:8). That promise isn’t tied to a place or a stage of life. It isn’t dependent on how close you are to home or how familiar the road feels. It’s a promise that wherever you go — near or far — you are never outside the care of the Lord. He keeps you. He watches over you. He does not sleep, forget, or lose sight of you.
Scripture also tells us, “Blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD… He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream” (Jeremiah 17:7–8). That picture speaks of a life that is steady and rooted — nourished even as circumstances change. We pray that your trust in the Lord continues to deepen, that your roots grow strong, and that your life bears fruit in every season, even when the days feel uncertain.
But before all of that future unfolds, we want you to know this: we are here for the now, too, as well as the future.
There are still trips to chaperone and buses to ride. There’s homework and projects, report cards and regular days that all start to blend together. There’s school and performances, practices and plans. There are dances and dates and ordinary evenings at home. There are more of the days that will feel like the same — and those days matter. They are not filler. They are the places where life is lived and faith is practiced.
Sixteen doesn’t mean the ordinary disappears. It means the ordinary is starting to carry more weight. Sixteen is when you begin to notice what needs to change and what needs to be clung to. Sixteen is when “the same” starts becoming different — not all at once, but steadily.
And this is where you are right now.
So hear this clearly: we are here for this part, too. We’re here for the regular days and the big ones, for what stays the same and what slowly shifts. We’re here to walk with you through this season as it unfolds, just as we have before.
So, this is our blessing for you, Keri:
May you always know that you are kept by God and deeply loved by us.
May you walk forward with confidence, knowing that the Lord goes with you and that you never walk alone.
May your life be rooted in Jesus, strengthened by His grace, and shaped by His goodness.
And wherever life takes you—now, and in all the seasons to come—may you always remember that you have a home to return to, arms ready to receive you, and parents who are grateful beyond words for the privilege of walking with you.
Tomorrow is Sunday — and I’m grateful to start 2026 gathered with my faith family at Christ Community Church.
Hebrews 10:23-25 reminds us why we gather. We come to “hold fast the confession of our hope” — that Jesus is Lord — and be encouraged by others who have been saved by the same grace. We gather to “stir up one another to love and good works”, not as spectators but as participants in what God is doing among us. We gather often, because the Lord has given us a church family and lovingly warns us against “neglecting to meet together”. We gather to “encourage one another”, lifting weary hearts with the reminder that this broken, fallen world isn’t all there is. And every time we gather, we are being prepared for a greater gathering that is coming — shaped week by week into a people ready for the presence of the Lord — the day Revelation 7:9-10 describes when a numberless multitude stands before the throne of God, praising and glorifying the Lamb.
That’s also why we do these “Songs for Sunday” posts. They are a simple invitation to prepare — to read the Scriptures we’ll read aloud in worship, to sing or listen to the songs we’ll sing together, and to come ready to worship with full hearts and clear hope. Preparation doesn’t replace worship; in this case, it deepens tomorrow’s worship it because the preparation itself is worshiping Jesus today.
Sunday’s coming. Let’s come ready to hold fast, encourage one another, and make much of Jesus — together.
17For if, because of one man’s trespass, death reigned through that one man, much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man Jesus Christ. 18Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men. 19For as by the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous. 20Now the law came in to increase the trespass, but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more, 21so that, as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through righteousness leading to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
19Remember my affliction and my wanderings, the wormwood and the gall! 20My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me. 21But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
22The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; 23they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. 24“The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in Him.”
Just Keith Harris 