Daily Devotions

The Victorious King

“On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written: KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.” Revelation 19:16

The final word of history does not belong to evil, empires, or darkness—it belongs to Christ. Revelation gives us a vision of a victorious King: not timid, not defeated, but riding out in majesty and power. He is called King of kings and Lord of lords—a title above all others.

This is not the peaceful procession of Palm Sunday. This is the triumphant return of the risen Christ, who comes not just to rule, but to set things right—to judge with justice, to overthrow evil, and to bring lasting peace.

When we look at the world today—wars, oppression, suffering—it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. But Revelation reminds us: Christ is not absent or powerless. He is coming in glory, and He will have the last word. His victory is certain.

In the end, it is not violence, injustice, or death that triumphs. It is Jesus, our victorious King.

There’s a story of a young girl reading a tense novel. She’s worried about the hero, who seems outmatched at every turn. So she flips to the final chapter to see how it ends. With a smile, she closes the book and says, “He wins.”

From then on, no matter how dark or difficult the story became, she read with confidence—because she knew the ending.

That’s what Revelation gives us. The battle is fierce, but the outcome is never in doubt. Jesus wins. He is the Victorious King. And we can live in the present with hope and courage, because the end of the story is already written: “King of kings and Lord of lords.”

Reign in power, Lord Jesus. Bring justice to a hurting world. Give hope to the oppressed, courage to the faithful, and confidence to your Church. May we trust in your final victory and live now as citizens of your kingdom. Amen.

Daily Devotions

The King Who Knows My Name

“The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.” John 10:3

In our busy and impersonal world, it's easy to feel like just another number, another face in the crowd. But Jesus, our King and Good Shepherd, sees beyond the surface. He doesn’t call His followers “group” or “flock”—He calls them by name.

This simple truth has deep meaning: God knows you personally. You’re not a stranger to Him. You’re not lost in the multitude. You are known, chosen, and loved.

When Jesus calls your name, it’s not a voice of obligation or pressure. It’s the voice of someone who sees the whole of you—your story, your pain, your joy—and still calls you His own. Following this King means walking in the confidence that you are fully known and fully loved.

There’s a story of a primary school teacher who made it her mission to learn every child’s name by the end of the first day of term—over 150 students. When asked why, she said: “Every child needs to know they are not invisible. If I can speak their name, I’ve already opened the door to relationship.”

In the same way, Jesus knows our names. But unlike a teacher who learns names over time, Jesus has known yours before you were born (see Jeremiah 1:5). You are not invisible to Him. And when He calls your name, He’s not just showing that He knows you—He’s inviting you to walk with Him.

Just like that teacher created belonging through names, Jesus creates identity, security, and purpose through His personal care.

Lord Jesus, thank you that I’m not just a face in the crowd to you. You know my name. You know where I’ve come from and where I’m going. Help me to hear your voice and follow you in trust, knowing you lead with love and care. Amen.

Daily Devotion

King of Peace

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” – Isaiah 9:6 (ESV)

In a world often marked by unrest, division, and uncertainty, the promise of Isaiah shines like a beacon of hope. The child foretold is no ordinary ruler—He is the Prince of Peace. Jesus brings a peace that surpasses human understanding: not merely the absence of conflict, but the presence of wholeness, harmony, and justice.

His peace heals the broken, calms the anxious, and reconciles the estranged. Under His reign, true peace is not a distant ideal but a present reality for those who trust in Him. When Christ rules in our hearts, His peace transforms us—softening our responses, guiding our decisions, and shaping our relationships.

The peace of Christ is not passive. It is active, seeking justice, mercy, and righteousness. As followers of the Prince of Peace, we are called to be peacemakers—living out His peace in a world that desperately needs it.

There’s a story about two brothers who lived on adjoining farms. After 40 years of farming side by side—sharing tools, trading crops, and helping each other—an argument broke out. It began with a small misunderstanding, but grew into harsh words, bitter silence, and eventually a physical divide: one brother used a bulldozer to dig a trench between their properties, turning a stream into a boundary of separation.

One day, a carpenter knocked on the older brother’s door, looking for work. The brother said, “Yes—see that farm over there? That’s my younger brother. He dug that trench to divide us. I want you to build a fence so I don’t have to see his place again.”

The carpenter agreed. But instead of building a fence, he built a bridge over the stream.

When the younger brother saw the bridge, he was stunned. He walked across it and embraced his older brother. "After all I’ve said and done... you still built this?" The older brother paused, looked at the carpenter—and they both smiled.

That’s the work of a peacemaker—not building walls, but bridges. Jesus, the Prince of Peace, did exactly that on the cross: He built a bridge between us and God, and calls us to do the same in our relationships with others.

Prince of Peace, you reign with justice and mercy. In a world filled with noise and conflict, quiet my soul with your calming presence. Let your peace rule in my heart—bringing stillness where there is restlessness, and healing where there is hurt. Help me to be an instrument of your peace: in my home, in my community, and in the world. May your justice flow through my actions, your love shape my words, and your presence guide my steps. I surrender my fears, my burdens, and my striving to your perfect peace. Amen.

Daily Devotions

The Servant King

Reading: Philippians 2:5–11 (NIV)

“In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.n
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name…”

The title “King” often brings to mind images of grandeur, power, and rule. Thrones, golden robes, declarations from above. But the Scriptures give us a different picture—a paradox that reshapes our understanding of glory and greatness. Christ is not just the King of kings; He is the Servant King.

In Philippians 2, we are given a breathtaking glimpse into the humility of Jesus. Though He was equal with God, He didn’t cling to His status. He let go of privilege and took on humanity—not just any humanity, but the lowly form of a servant. And not just service, but suffering. He humbled Himself to the point of death—death on a Roman cross, the ultimate symbol of shame.

Yet in this very act of lowering Himself, God lifted Him high. Jesus’ descent into servanthood led to His exaltation. His path to glory went through the valley of obedience, sacrifice, and self-giving love. This is how God’s kingdom works—the last shall be first, the servant is greatest, and the cross leads to the crown.

And we are called to have that same mindset.

In a world that prizes upward mobility, Jesus shows us the path of downward love. In a culture that chases status, He invites us to kneel in service. His kingship is not about commanding others, but about laying down His life for them.

So today, as we honour Christ the King, we remember that His rule doesn’t lord it over us—it stoops to wash feet. It bears burdens. It forgives enemies. It welcomes sinners. And it calls us to do the same.

Questions for Reflection:

• Where am I being called to serve rather than seek recognition?
• Do I resist humility in order to protect status, pride, or comfort?
• What would it look like to imitate the mindset of Christ in my daily life?

Humble King,
You chose the path of the servant.
You laid aside heaven’s glory to lift up the lowly.
Teach me to walk in Your ways—
to love without condition,
to serve without seeking reward,
to obey without hesitation.
Shape my heart not to be served,
but to serve—just as You did.
And as I bow before You,
lift me into the joy of Your kingdom.
Amen.

Daily Devotions

A Different Kind of King

John 18:36 (NIV) “Jesus said, ‘My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place.’”

As we approach the end of the liturgical year, we are invited to reflect on the kingship of Christ—a kingship unlike any other. The world measures power by domination, victory, and visibility. Thrones are built on might. Crowns are won through conquest. Kings, in the earthly sense, rule by force and fear.

But when Jesus stands before Pilate, accused and beaten, He doesn’t look much like a king. There is no army, no throne, no robes or riches. Yet His words carry weight beyond this world: “My kingdom is not of this world.”

Jesus redefines what it means to rule. His is a kingdom of truth, not tyranny. A kingdom of grace, not greed. A kingdom that transforms hearts rather than territories. His crown was made of thorns. His throne was a cross. His victory came not through crushing enemies, but through absorbing sin and offering forgiveness.

This is the King we follow—gentle, yet mighty; crucified, yet risen; rejected, yet reigning. In Christ, we see a kingdom that challenges our assumptions and invites us to live under a different rule: one where love is strength, humility is power, and the last are first.

So as we draw near to the feast of Christ the King, we are not merely celebrating a theological title—we are declaring allegiance to a different way of being in the world. A kingdom that starts in the heart and works outward. A kingdom that will one day come in fullness but is already among us in every act of justice, mercy, and truth.

Lord Jesus,
You are not the kind of king we expect—
You don’t demand allegiance by fear,
but invite it through love.
Open my eyes to Your kingdom,
not as the world gives, but as You offer.
Help me to live each day under Your reign,
serving Your truth, bearing Your peace,
and following wherever You lead.
Amen.

Sunday Reflection

Devotional – “Steady Hearts in Shaking Times”

Luke 21:5–19 invites us into a moment of honesty with Jesus. The disciples are admiring the temple — a symbol of stability, identity, and national pride. Jesus responds by saying that even the most impressive structures will fall. In other words:

Don’t build your life on what can crumble.

Jesus is not trying to frighten us. He is telling the truth about life in a world that changes, shakes, and sometimes shatters. There are seasons when the “temple walls” we rely on fall — our routines, our health, our security, even our confidence in what comes next.

But notice what Jesus offers in place of fear:

endurance — patient, steady, faithful trust.

Not heroics.

Not bravado.

Not pretending everything is fine.

Just keeping close to Jesus, step by step.

He says, “By your endurance you will gain your souls.” This is not salvation by effort. It is the discovery that when we refuse to give up — when we keep praying, keep serving, keep seeking Christ — we find that God is already holding us.

Faith isn’t proven in calm seasons — it is for the shaking times.

So today’s calling is simple and beautiful:

Keep going.

Stay with Jesus.

Trust that grace is enough for this day.

God is not asking you to be strong — only to remain with the One who is.

Hymn Verse (from Singing the Faith)

STF 531: “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” – Verse 1

What a friend we have in Jesus,

all our sins and griefs to bear!

What a privilege to carry

everything to God in prayer!

O what peace we often forfeit,

O what needless pain we bear —

all because we do not carry

everything to God in prayer.

This verse holds the same invitation:

Don’t carry the world alone.

Prayer

God of steadfast love,

in a world that often trembles and changes,

be our centre and our peace.

When we feel uncertain, steady our hearts.

When we feel weary, strengthen our steps.

Teach us to endure —

not by our own strength,

but by resting in yours.

Stay with us in the ordinary moments

and in the difficult ones,

and keep us faithful to Christ,

who holds us, now and always.

Amen.

Daily Devotions

Becoming Like Him

"Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when Christ appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is."
1 John 3:2— (NIV)

There’s something beautifully unfinished about us. We are already God’s children, already loved and chosen—but we’re still becoming. The future shape of our lives, our identity, even our glory, is not yet fully revealed.

John doesn’t give a detailed explanation of what we’ll be like—only a promise: we will be like Him. That’s enough. When Christ returns, when we see Him face to face, something will shift. The veil will be lifted, and we will be changed. The mystery of who we are will be answered in the presence of the One who made us, saved us, and is transforming us.

Imagine visiting a sculptor’s studio. In the corner stands a large, rough block of marble. It’s hard to picture anything beautiful in it—just a heavy, unshaped stone.

But the sculptor sees something we can’t. When asked what he’s doing, he smiles and says,
"I’m chipping away everything that doesn’t look like the masterpiece inside."

That’s what God is doing in us.

This isn’t just a future hope; it’s a present encouragement. We are not what we were. We are not yet what we will be. But we are God’s children now. The Spirit is already at work in us, shaping us from the inside out, preparing us for that glorious day when we will reflect Jesus fully.

Lord Jesus,
Thank You that I am already Your child,
even as I wait for the fullness of who I will become.
When I feel incomplete or unsure,
remind me that I am a work in progress in Your loving hands.
Give me courage to live each day in hope—
becoming more like You until the day I see You face to face.
Amen.

Daily Devotions

The Sunflower and the Sun

Sunflowers are fascinating plants. Did you know that young sunflowers turn their faces to follow the sun across the sky each day? From sunrise to sunset, their heads gently rotate, always oriented toward the light. It’s called heliotropism—sun-seeking.

That’s a powerful picture of what Paul describes in b:

“So our faces are not covered. They show the bright glory of the Lord, as the Lord’s Spirit makes us more and more like our glorious Lord.”   2 Corinthians 3:18 (CEV)

Just as the sunflower follows the sun to grow and flourish, we are transformed by turning our faces toward Jesus. As we fix our eyes on Him—His mercy, His truth, His love—the Spirit works in us, slowly but surely, to make us reflect His glory.

We don’t become Christlike by looking at ourselves, comparing ourselves to others, or trying to impress God. We become like Jesus by looking at Jesus. The longer we look, the more like Him we become.

This verse is one of the most hope-filled in all of Scripture. It reminds us that transformation is not only possible — it’s promised.

We don’t change ourselves from the outside in; we are changed from the inside out, by the Spirit of God. As we fix our eyes on Christ—not just glancing, but truly beholding—we begin to reflect Him. It's not a mask we wear or a performance we manage. It’s the quiet, powerful work of the Holy Spirit making us look more and more like Jesus.

Just like Moses’ face shone after being with God, our lives begin to shine—not with our own light, but with His reflected glory.

Lord Jesus,

Help me to keep my eyes on You.

As I behold Your glory,

change me by Your Spirit.

Make me more like You—

in heart, in word, in life.

Shine through me,

so others may see You.

Amen.