Alistair Begg Daily Devotional

The City of Man

Alistair Begg — Mon, 15 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“Come out of her, my people, lest you take part in her sins, lest you share in her plagues; for her sins are heaped high as heaven, and God has remembered her iniquities.”

Revelation 18:4–5

We shouldn’t be surprised or alarmed when Christians face continual opposition. Humanity’s natural disposition is one of proud defiance towards God and therefore against His people. Man, on the unstable foundation of his pride, “builds a city” (to use the picture language of Revelation) and constructs a lifestyle that is set against God’s ways.

Humanity has been doing this since the fall. The first godless building project was on the plain of Shinar, at a place called Babel (Genesis 11:1-9)—the place that later bore the name Babylon, and to which God’s people were exiled. Revelation 18 therefore refers to the city of man, constructed in defiance of God, as Babylon; and Babylon is then personified as a prostitute, enticing people to commit spiritual adultery. Alluring and seductive, the city of man is effective at turning many away from God. It is “the great city that has dominion over the kings of the earth” (17:18), and its influence is significant and destructive.

How, then, are citizens of the city of God to respond to this worldly rival? We are to be in the world but not of the world. In other words, we are to be salt, which has a distinctive taste and a preservative quality; and we are to be light, which exposes what darkness covers but which also guides others along the way to safety (Matthew 5:13-16). We are to live in the tension of being members of this world but not belonging here: residing here but also being separate from those whose hearts and minds are set against God. The sins of the city of man must not characterize the believer, John says, lest we “share in her plagues.” If we yield to Babylon’s seduction, we prove our identity was never truly that of a citizen of God’s kingdom.

Those who follow Christ must be committed to the Bible’s truth. Christianity is more than a moral code. It’s more than a framework for living or a method to improve one’s life. Where is the cross in that? Christianity is distinct from all other religions in that we hold fast to Jesus’ death on the cross as our means of reconciliation to God. We were once dead in our sins, deserving of God’s wrath and judgment—but He redeemed us through Christ’s perfect life, atoning death, and victorious resurrection.

For now, the world goes on as it always did. But one day Christ will return and silence every false prophet, every citizen of Babylon, and even the devil himself. We may see the church hard-pressed, mocked, legislated against, and persecuted. The world will see it as weak, on the wrong side of history, and not worthy of respect or acceptance. But we take hope in this triumphant affirmation: neither the gates of Babylon nor the gates of hell will prevail because Christ will build and keep His church (Matthew 16:18). So for now, as you live in Babylon, what of its sins do you find most alluring? In what ways are you most tempted to live as though this city is all there is? And what opportunities have you been given to be salt and light to those around you? Be sure both to resist the city of man and to beckon others to the city of God.

Going Deeper: Revelation 18:1–19:10

Devotional material is taken from the Truth For Life daily devotionals by Alistair Begg, published by The Good Book Company, thegoodbook.com. Used by Truth For Life with permission. Copyright © 2021, 2022, The Good Book Company.

The Reality of Grief

Alistair Begg — Sun, 14 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled. And he said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus wept.”

John 11:33–35

Grief is “a life-shaking sorrow over loss. Grief tears life to shreds; it shakes one from top to bottom. It pulls him loose; he comes apart at the seams. Grief is truly nothing less than a life-shattering loss.”[1] You may know this experience all too well. I remember its first intrusion into my life when I was a teenager and my mother died. Nothing could ever be quite as it had been before.

You do not have to live long as a believer to discover that faith does not insulate us from grief and the fear of it. Paul wrote about the near-death experience of his friend Epaphroditus: “Indeed he was ill, near to death. But God had mercy on him, and not only on him but on me also, lest I should have sorrow upon sorrow” (Philippians 2:27). The thought of losing Epaphroditus broke Paul’s heart. He understood that death was not the end, but he also recognized that in experiencing loss, or even in the prospect of that, there is true sorrow.

Grief is hard because something has been lost, and certain joys are now irretrievably gone. But we also know that grief is a reality to which Scripture plainly speaks—a reality that will one day be redeemed by a far greater joy. And we know that grief is a reality with which our Savior is personally acquainted. As Jesus stood at the grave of His friend Lazarus, He—the second Person of the Trinity—grieved with those who had gathered there. Though He was about to raise Lazarus from the dead, He still wept because He was sincerely sad. The mystery in this scene is that Jesus so identified with our humanity that He shed genuine tears at the loss of His beloved friend.

Although the Bible introduces us to the reality of Christ’s victory over death and the grave, it doesn’t call us to some kind of glossy, heartless triumphalism. Rather, as Alec Motyer writes, “tears are proper for believers—indeed they should be all the more copious, for Christians are more sensitively aware of every emotion, whether of joy or sorrow, than those who have known nothing of the softening and enlivening grace of God.”[2]

The fact that our loved ones who died in Christ are now with Him lightens but does not remove the anguish of loss and loneliness. We continue to long for the day when such pain will have ceased. Until that day comes, we can find comfort in knowing that Jesus was “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3) as we look to Him as our example, as we see that He is “the resurrection and the life” (John 11:25), and as we look to Him for our eternity. Knowing this is what enables grief and hope to coexist in our hearts.

Going Deeper: John 14:1–7

Footnotes:

[1] Jay E. Adams, Shepherding God’s Flock: A Handbook on Pastoral Ministry, Counseling, and Leadership (Zondervan, 1975), p 136.
[2] J. Alec Motyer, The Message of Philippians, The Bible Speaks Today (IVP Academic, 1984), p 90.

My Times Are in Your Hand

Alistair Begg — Sat, 13 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“But I trust in you, O Lord; I say “You are my God.” My times are in your hand; rescue me from the hand of my enemies and from my persecutors! Make your face shine on your servant; save me in your steadfast love!”

Psalm 31:14–16

Most of us are a mixture of emotions and experiences. The good, the bad, and the ugly wash over us regularly. The key issue is what we do with these feelings and experiences. How does being a believer shape the way in which we view our world? “My times are in your hand” is a six-word affirmation to remind Christians that despite disasters and difficulties, we are under the care of Almighty God.

In the opening verses of Psalm 31, it is apparent that David is in anguish. As we read on, we seem to find him in a position of assurance just a few verses later, only for him to return immediately to a state of distress. This cycle of pain and joy is not an unusual experience for the Christian pilgrim. In fact, the recurrence of disappointment and discomfort is fairly common along the path of faith.

In her book The Hiding Place, Corrie ten Boom tells the story of looking forward to her first railway journey. Although her trip was not for many weeks, she would regularly go to her father and ask him if he had the tickets. He would tell her over and over that he did. She realized that her problem was a lack of trust in her dad; she did not believe he would take care of everything. She was worrying that he would lose her ticket and that somehow she would be without it on the day she was to travel. In that lesson, she learned that God gives us the ticket on the day we make the journey and not before.[1] He, of course, is much better at keeping it safe than we are.

In our own pilgrimages through heartache, disappointment, the loss of loved ones, and personal failures, we can learn that this is indeed true. Therefore, we must trust Him. On the day we make the journey from time to eternity, if we know Christ, we know He will give us the ticket. If that day is today, then the ticket is on the way. If not, then what is the use in lying awake and letting our emotions control us and our worries crowd in on us?

We are not at the mercy of arbitrary, impersonal forces; we are in the hand of our loving God. He says to us, Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy laden. Come to Me with all your burdens, fears, panics, anxieties, and heartaches. Take My yoke upon you. Live underneath My loving rule, because My yoke is easy and My burden is light, and you will find rest for your souls, forever (see Matthew 11:28-30).

This is your security. Your times—short or long, rich or poor, sad or happy—are in His hand. He will give you good works to do each day, and then on your last day, He will bring you safely through to the place where your days are infinitely long, unimaginably rich, and unutterably happy.

Going Deeper: Psalm 31

Footnotes:

[1] The Hiding Place (1971), ch. 2.

The Father’s Will

Alistair Begg — Fri, 12 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“Then I said, “Behold, I have come to do your will, O God, as it is written of me in the scroll of the book.””

Hebrews 10:7

When parents and grandparents coo over a newborn member of their family, they often share hopes and plans for what this little girl will accomplish or who this little boy might become. It would be quite remarkable, however, if young children were to declare their own intentions and purposes in life. Yet this is one more way in which Christ is unique: He did enter the world declaring, “I have come to do your will, O God.”

When Jesus was twelve, His parents found Him conversing in the temple with the religious leaders and teachers. Mary and Joseph had been looking for Him for three days without thinking to look there, and were baffled; but He replied, “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (Luke 2:49). He understood His express purpose from His earliest days.

What was the will of the Father that Christ came to accomplish? The Bible tells us that in sending Jesus, God gave His people the one who would satisfy all the law’s demands through full submission and who would then suffer the penalty of sin to set men and women free from its bondage. The coming of the Savior had been planned from all of eternity and promised through all of the Old Testament, the “scroll of the book.” Jesus—who entered the world as a baby in a manger—is the very fulfillment of our salvation.

Every moment of His life, whether He was being tempted by Satan or experiencing agony in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus knew and remembered His purpose. He understood that He was there according to the Father’s will. Though He pleaded for His cup of suffering to pass, He submitted to the Father in perfect obedience. As any human would have been, He was tempted to shrink from the Father’s will, yet still He prayed, “Nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will” (Matthew 26:39-46).

Jesus was not vague concerning the reason for His arrival—and because He lived according to the Father’s will, we will join Him in eternity, rejoicing in all He accomplished on our behalf.

Not the labor of my hands
Can fulfill Thy law’s demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears forever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.[1]

Today, you and I can live to do God’s will, not in fear of punishment if we do not obey but with faith that we are already blessed in Christ. Because He always obeyed, we are forgiven for our failures to do likewise and freed joyfully to pursue our Father’s will—not because we must but because we desire to.

Going Deeper: Romans 5:12–21

Footnotes:

[1] Augustus Toplady, “Rock of Ages” (1776).

An Ear Open, a Will Ready

Alistair Begg — Thu, 11 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“The Lord said to him, “Rise and go to the street called Straight, and at the house of Judas look for a man of Tarsus named Saul, for behold, he is praying.””

Acts 9:11

In the Bible, there is no mention of Ananias before his appearance in Acts 9, and there is only one brief mention of him after that (Acts 22:12). By all accounts, he was not a tremendous man who had done great things by the world’s standards. Even so, God saw a faithful heart within him and chose to use him in a tremendous way in the conversion of Saul (who subsequently became known as Paul).

Like Ananias, you may not have done tremendous things in your life, gone to amazing places, or gained any sort of great popularity. But God is in the business of setting His hand upon certain individuals and using them to accomplish His will. Our part is simply to be like Ananias, with ears open and wills ready to hear and obey our God.

The emphasis in this verse is not on the way in which God spoke to Ananias but on the way in which Ananias responded: “Here I am, Lord.” His ear was tuned to hear God. What about yours? Do you hear God speak through His word? Is the posture of your heart such that whatever it is He is calling you to do, that you will say, “Here I am, Lord”?

Ananias’ response to God is remarkable when we consider what God was calling him to do, and for whom. He had “heard from many about this man [Saul], how much evil he has done to your saints at Jerusalem,” and he knew that in Damascus Saul had “authority … to bind all who call on your name” (Acts 9:13-14). Yet he willingly chose to obey God’s call despite any fear or resentment he had of Saul and his reputation. He heard, and he acted. How often do we make excuses for our own inaction in response to God’s call? How often do we hide behind our fear or live with excessive caution, forgetting that “God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (2 Timothy 1:7)? Ananias displayed this powerful spirit through his obedience.

Our culture values big names, big accomplishments, and big ratings. God does not have the same preoccupations. Ananias had no great name or huge fanfare; he simply had an ear open to God’s voice and a will obedient to His command. This resulted in a life sacrificed for usefulness in God’s service. And on this day, it meant that he was the first to tangibly extend God’s love and grace to Saul as he reached out and called him “brother” (Acts 9:17). And so, though he may be a small character in the Bible, there is much you and I can learn from him. You may receive little to no recognition for your faithfulness to Christ in this life. You may take risks and make sacrifices in service to Him and feel that not much changes and no one notices. But far better than anything this world can give, you can look forward to hearing God’s “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:21) as you enter the kingdom of heaven. No good work done in His service is ever wasted. He weaves it all into the great story of salvation.

Going Deeper: Isaiah 6:1–13

Justice, Kindness, and Humility

Alistair Begg — Wed, 10 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”

Micah 6:8

When John Newton, the eighteenth-century hymn writer and pastor, preached on this verse, he entitled his sermon “No Access to God but by the Gospel of Christ.” Why would he use a title that seems to lack any connection to the verse?! Newton himself commented, “There is hardly any one passage in the Bible more generally misunderstood.”[1] His sermon title, it seems, was aimed at correcting the common misunderstandings.

Newton’s title alerts us to the danger of reading the virtues described here and then attempting to live them out without the gospel, or proclaiming them in place of the gospel, as a means of access to God. Neither of these does justice to what the prophet—and the Lord—intended. The best way to understand Micah 6:8 is not as a list of things that contribute to our justification but as evidences of our justification. When we view it this way, with the proper motivation and goals established, we can understand what the Lord was calling Israel, and is calling us, to do.

The Lord, through Micah, tells us first to “do justice.” This means a commitment to act in accord with God’s will and purpose. For example, in Deuteronomy, Moses says that God “executes justice for the fatherless and the widow, and loves the sojourner, giving him food and clothing” (Deuteronomy 10:18). We want to care about the things God cares about, which means taking such priorities seriously, seeking to “do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith” (Galatians 6:10).

Second, the Lord tells us to “love kindness.” If doing justice is the action, then loving kindness is the heart attitude that fuels it. It’s warm-hearted compassion, ensuring that we pursue justice not as a performance of some duty but as a glad action of benevolence.

Third, we are to “walk humbly.” In other words, we are to walk in submission to God’s will, embracing our utter dependence on Him every step of the way. Why does Micah end this verse with humility? First, because humility is what is required to acknowledge that we do not perfectly obey the call to love kindness and do justice—and so we need the Lord’s forgiveness and not just His commands. And second, because even as we do obey Him in the way Micah 6:8 calls us to, the fruitfulness of our labors is ultimately not up to us.

You and I cannot fix the world; we must instead entrust the solution to the world’s King and Judge. Doing so both motivates and sustains us, with God’s help, to live out the gospel that has saved us, through expressions of justice, kindness, and humility, for the good of our neighbors, for the witness of the church, and for the glory of Christ. Across the centuries, Micah calls you today to reflect humbly on your need for the gospel, to look to your heart and ask the Spirit to grow it in Christlike kindness, and then to look to your world and actively pursue fairness and justice.

Going Deeper: Micah 6:1–8

Footnotes:

[1] The Works of the Rev. John Newton (1808), Vol. 2, p 543.

Putting the Pieces Together

Alistair Begg — Tue, 09 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me, yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life.”

John 5:39–40

One Christmas, our family decided that we were going to become a jigsaw family. We set up a table, sourced the most enormous jigsaw puzzle that we could find, and laid out all its pieces. Unfortunately, our enthusiasm soon proved unequal to the task. From time to time, one of us would walk up to the table, pick up a few pieces, fail to put them together—and then give up and walk away.

It is entirely possible for you and me to study the Bible as if we are picking up bits and pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, failing to put them together, and never seeing the magnificent picture in front of us. In other words, as the book of Hebrews puts it, we can study the Bible and find that it’s “of no value” to us because we “did not combine it with faith” (Hebrews 4:2, NIV1984). We might be meticulous in our Bible study and disciplined in our Bible memorization and yet all the time refuse truly to accept the Messiah about whom we are reading. To such people, Jesus offers challenging words: “You do not have [God’s] word abiding in you, for you do not believe the one whom he has sent” (John 5:38).

It’s sobering to think that even when men and women put themselves in a position to consider God’s word, they might still refuse to come to Jesus, the Giver and Sustainer of life. By nature, we have our fingers in our ears to silence God’s voice. By nature, Scripture tells us, “no one seeks for God” (Romans 3:11).

As one author writes, though, while “there is no life in the Scriptures themselves … if we follow where they lead, they will bring us to Him, and so we find life, not in the Scriptures, but in Him through them.”[1] The word of God in Scripture and the Word of God incarnate are interwoven, with the Spirit bringing God’s word to people so that they might meet and discover Christ.

Are you carrying around pieces of the Bible in your mind without putting them together and then standing back to see the beautiful picture of Jesus, arms outstretched, ready to save those who will come to Him in repentance and faith? Will you combine your knowledge of God’s word with true belief so that you avoid the pitfall of knowing a lot about the word without ever knowing the Word? Will you come to God’s word each day expecting to encounter Jesus as His Spirit works through His word? Let us be those who echo the prophet Samuel as we open God’s word: “Speak, for your servant is listening” (1 Samuel 3:10, NIV).

Going Deeper: 2 Timothy 3:1–17

Footnotes:

[1] G. Campbell Morgan, The Gospel According to John (Marshall, Morgan, and Scott, 1933), p 94.

Gideon’s Question

Alistair Begg — Mon, 08 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“The angel of the Lord appeared to [Gideon] and said to him, “The Lord is with you, O mighty man of valor.” And Gideon said to him, “Please, my lord, if the Lord is with us, why then has all this happened to us?””

Judges 6:12–13

The moment in Judges 6 when Gideon meets an angel is both dramatic and incongruous. The angel calls him a “mighty man of valor” while he is hiding out in a winepress in an attempt to thresh wheat without being seen by the occupying Midianites (Judges 6:11). There is not much might or valor about him!

It’s as if God focused the camera on Gideon as a microcosm of His people. Perhaps in that moment, Gideon looked over his shoulder, wondering if the greeting was really meant for him. After all, the Lord had allowed His people to be reduced to hiding out in caves. So he asked, “If the LORD is with us, why then has all of this happened to us?”

It’s a sensible question: if God is who He claims to be, then why does He allow troubling circumstances in our lives? We can surely relate. All of our lives are full of ifs, buts, and whys. We should be encouraged, though, to know that if God could answer Gideon’s question or the cries of Israel, He can surely handle our difficult questions—even if His answer is not always what we expect.

When the Israelites cried out for God’s help in Judges 6:7, He responded not by sending a warrior to deliver them but a prophet to teach them (v 8). God knew that they needed to hear His word in the midst of their trials. Ultimately, they needed to turn back to Him and trust in His promises. The prophet told them in outline what the angel would tell Gideon: “The LORD is with you.” The presence of God and the existence of trials can co-exist.

The questions we raise are finally answered not in some list of “five easy steps” but in God’s disclosure of Himself through His word. In Gideon’s case, God’s response seemed to be no answer at all. There was no dialogue concerning Israel’s circumstances or any explanation about their enemies. Instead, the Lord turned to Gideon and said, “Go in this might of yours and save Israel from the hand of Midian; do not I send you?” (Judges 6:14).

Gideon felt inadequate: “How can I save Israel? Behold, my clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my father’s house” (Judges 6:15). Often, though, it’s exactly when we admit our inadequacy that God begins to work in us. Until we reach the point where we can see our weakness, we will not be inclined to pray, to walk steadfast through trials, or to stop trusting in ourselves. Only when we know our own shortcomings and listen to God’s promise to be with us and to work in and through us will we commit to serving Him with all that we have, weak though we feel and are. For in His word God promises that our weakness plus God’s strength is sufficient for any task He calls us to (Philippians 4:13).

Going Deeper: Judges 6:11–24

Vengeance Is the Lord’s

Alistair Begg — Sun, 07 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.”

Matthew 5:38–39

When Jesus uttered these familiar words, to whom was He speaking? Who was Jesus telling to endure evil and resist retaliation?

It may seem simple, but this question gets at an important distinction that was in the mind of the apostle Paul as he penned his letter to the Romans. In chapter 12, he exhorts his readers to “repay no one evil for evil” (Romans 12:17) and to “overcome evil with good” (v 21), echoing the Lord’s teaching: that we should turn the other cheek. And yet, just a few verses later in Romans 13, he says that God has established civil authorities as His servants for the purpose of approving what is good and punishing what is evil (13:1-4). Sometimes, then, evil is repaid, and at other times it is not—at least not immediately.

Both Paul and Jesus recognized an important distinction that we must remember between the way individual Christians ought to respond to evil done to them (dealt with in Romans 12) and the execution of the rule of law (dealt with in Romans 13).

Christians are not to take justice into their own hands. Rather, we are to entrust the repayment of evil to the authorities God has put in place. Civil authorities are one example. When they fulfill their roles rightly, they serve as a terror to bad conduct but not to good. They are there to faithfully execute the rule of law and to punish those who violate it.

Understanding that God is perfectly just will free us to obey Jesus’ command to turn the other cheek. This is not a call to pretend that the evil done to us is not evil or to embrace a despairing outlook that says there is no justice. Nor is it a call to accept, when we are victims, that we must not make recourse to the civil authorities. No, Christians are called to and can endure evil because vengeance belongs to the Lord (Romans 12:19). On occasion, He permits that vengeance to be carried out in this life as He authorizes human governments to “bear the sword” (13:4). But on the day of the Lord, He will be the one directly carrying out justice, and every evil done in His world will be repaid in full.

You and I, then, are free to seek justice from the authorities that God has instituted to protect people and punish wrongdoing. Equally, we are free to turn the other cheek, resisting the all-too-natural urge to take matters into our own hands and enact our own vengeance. Justice will come, and not from our hands.

Going Deeper: Matthew 5:38–48

Be Honest with Yourself

Alistair Begg — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“Blessed is the man against whom the Lord counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit.”

Psalm 32:2

In Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, one of the characters gives another this advice: “Above all, do not lie to yourself. A man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point where he does not discern any truth either in himself or anywhere around him, and thus falls into disrespect towards himself and others.”[1] Nearly three millennia before, David also described the potential effects of self-deceit about what we are really like.

Honesty is vital to the discovery of happiness. Joyful, contented people do not lie to themselves or to anybody else. We cannot deceive ourselves and enjoy genuine happiness; deceit and happiness don’t sleep in the same bed.

The Bible calls us to be as honest about ourselves as it is honest. It turns a searchlight onto our hearts and minds, revealing the truth of the human predicament. We are told that we live in iniquity, which results in an internal bias towards wrongdoing and a nature corrupted by sin. We’re transgressors, going where we shouldn’t go. We’re sinners, failing to live up to our own standards, let alone the standard God has set.

The surprise of this verse is that David starts off with the word “blessed” or “happy,” but then immediately introduces such hard realities as our iniquity and our capacity for lying to ourselves and God about it. But the reason he can do that is because the predicament he faces is more than matched by the cure God offers.

Notice that David doesn’t say, Happy is the individual whose iniquity the Lord does not count. He says, “Happy is the man against whom the LORD counts no iniquity.” Because God is holy, He must count sin—but He counts it against someone else. He counts it against His Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. We find in David’s words the amazing doctrine of justification by faith, which we first see in God’s relationship with Abraham, who “believed the LORD, and he counted it to him as righteousness” (Genesis 15:6). The moment we truly believe that our sins have been counted against our Savior, we will be blessed; we will be happier than ever before.

So the path to blessing starts with honesty. We are not good people who make the odd mistake. We are not wonderful individuals with a few flaws that can be blamed on our upbringing, our environment, or our lack of sleep last night. We are sinners with deceitful hearts, who fall short of God’s glorious standards and by nature stand to inherit only wrath (Jeremiah 17:9; Romans 3:23; Ephesians 2:1-3). Be honest about who you are. Be specific about how you have sinned against the Lord. Then you will be ready to embrace the most joyful news in the world: that each day, though “our sins they are many, His mercy is more.”[2]

Going Deeper: Psalm 38

Footnotes:

[1] Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov: A Novel in Four Parts with Epilogue, trans. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky (1990; reprinted Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2002), p 44.
[2] Matt Papa and Matt Boswell, “His Mercy Is More” (2016).

Worshiping Through Trial and Toil

Alistair Begg — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“The Lord caused all that he did to succeed in his hands.”

Genesis 39:2–3

If all that Joseph had was his famous brightly colored coat, he would have been ruined when his brothers took it from him and sold him into slavery. But there was character inside the man who wore that coat—and when Joseph lost his coat, he didn’t lose his character. Rather, he continued to be formed and framed as a slave in Potiphar’s household. In this crucible of affliction, God poured out blessing and favor on Joseph’s life.

It would have been understandable if, finding himself a slave in an Egyptian household, Joseph had retreated into a cocoon of isolation, refusing to become involved in the world around him, protesting Egypt’s paganism, and resenting Potiphar’s authority. This approach, though, would not have afforded him an opportunity for witness or testimony. Instead of shutting down, Joseph seemingly determined that he would be the best servant that Potiphar ever had, because he knew he ultimately served God.

While Joseph prospered on account of God’s goodness, he remained a slave. His day-to-day life was filled with drudgery—something most of us can relate to! But if you and I want to flourish in the worst or most mundane of circumstances, we must learn how to take life’s routine experiences and see God’s hand of blessing in them, whatever they might be.

Because Joseph was able to trust God through his trials, Potiphar, we’re told, saw that the Lord was with Joseph and caused all his success. Joseph didn’t have to tell Potiphar that there was special favor on his life. When God’s blessing is on a life, it will be apparent—and sometimes, as we see with Potiphar, even unbelievers can’t help but notice.

We need to learn to live with the awareness that every matter we deal with, every moment we spend, and every move we make is an opportunity to bring glory and praise to God. Wherever we find ourselves, we can (as Paul wrote to those who found themselves, like Joseph, both God’s people and enslaved) “work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord [we] will receive the inheritance as [our] reward [because we] are serving the Lord Christ” (Colossians 3:23-24). Only when we understand that we were created for His glory can we turn life’s trials and toils into acts of worship. Our responsibilities, says the Bible, are opportunities to reveal our dependence on God and evidences of His blessing. Whether we find ourselves as CEOs or street-sweepers, trading shares or building houses or changing diapers, we will be both humbled and lifted up as we pray:

Teach me, my God and King,
In all things thee to see,
And what I do in any thing,
To do it as for thee.[1]

Going Deeper: Genesis 39

Footnotes:

[1] George Herbert, “The Elixir,” The English Poems of George Herbert, ed. Helen Wilcox (Cambridge University Press, 2007), p 640.

Meant to Shine

Alistair Begg — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“Do all things without grumbling or disputing, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world.”

Philippians 2:14–15

As people who have been set free by the blood of Christ, we are meant to shine. There should be a glory about those who know Jesus. But grumbling will always obscure that glory. Although it’s a children’s song, these lyrics should always resonate with us:

Come leave your house on Grumble Street
And move to Sunshine Square,
For that’s the place where Jesus lives,
And all is sunshine there.

It is vital for Christians to have a solid grasp of the reality that because of Jesus, we have been cleansed from the guilt and stain of sin. We have remarkable freedom in Christ, and through the Spirit’s indwelling we experience both that freedom and the hope it provides amid life’s chaos and in a world that rejects Christ. The gospel is not just a starting point for our faith; it is the whole point. And the Lord kindly provides constant reminders of the truth that we are His children so that we can progress in our walk with Him.

Our standing in Christ is unalterable. Once we’ve been adopted into His family, God will never loosen His grip on our souls. During our best week, we are no closer to God than during our worst week, because our standing with the Father is built upon Christ’s righteousness, not ours. We are put right with God not on account of something done by us or from within us but for us.

As Martin Luther said, in one way, the gospel is all outside of us.[1] If we constantly look within to see how well we’re doing, we’ll feel as if we have no standing before God. But when we realize that God’s eternal purpose is to conform us to the image of His Son, and that the ongoing process of obeying Christ enables that very thing, we will begin to experience the Spirit-empowered joy that God so graciously provides. When that happens, we will find ourselves with far less cause to complain!

We must work out our own salvation with fear and trembling, because it’s God’s good work in us that allows us to live for His pleasure and, in doing so, for our joy and contentment (Philippians 2:12-13). As we do so, we learn to truly shine—and others will then see Christ through us. So, what do you find yourself grumbling about? Has the glory of being a child of God grown cold to you? Today, when you realize you are about to grumble, whether in your own heart or to someone else, instead turn those words into ones of gratitude for all that the Lord has done, and is doing, for you. Then you will shine.

Going Deeper: Matthew 5:1–16

Footnotes:

[1] “Two Kinds of Righteousness.”

Leaving a Legacy

Alistair Begg — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“Always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry.”

2 Timothy 4:5

Each of us is leaving a legacy. Every day we are adding something to the portrait of our lives, and eventually what we leave behind—our decisions, our contributions, our priorities—will remain, at least for a time, for others to reflect upon and consider.

At the end of Paul’s second letter to Timothy, we find the words of an older man whose life was coming to an end: “I am already being poured out as a drink offering,” he says, “and the time of my departure has come” (2 Timothy 4:6). In this context, he exhorts Timothy to take his responsibilities seriously, to consider his legacy, and to contemplate both the helpful and harmful legacies left behind by many that Paul encountered.

In the opening chapter, Paul had reminded Timothy that “all who are in Asia turned away from me, among whom are Phygelus and Hermogenes” (2 Timothy 1:15). These individuals receive one mention in the Bible, and it is to record the fact that they deserted a man in need. Paul also warns Timothy to be on his guard concerning people like Hymenaeus and Philetus, whose “talk … spread like gangrene” and who “swerved from the truth,” or like Alexander the coppersmith, who, Paul says, “did me great harm” (2:17-18; 4:14). When we look at the portraits these individuals left behind, we see a legacy of desertion, false teaching, and opposition to the gospel.

But Paul’s letter is also replete with mention of those who left helpful, beneficial legacies. For example, Lois and Eunice demonstrated sincere faith, which Paul is certain now dwells in the young pastor Timothy (2 Timothy 1:5). Likewise, Paul exhorts his protégé to remember Onesiphorus, who “often refreshed me and was not ashamed of my chains, but when he arrived in Rome he searched for me earnestly and found me” (v 16-17). Onesiphorus left behind a legacy of faith, courage, and conviction. If he said he’d be somewhere, he was there. He was a man on whom Paul could fully rely.

We are all leaving a legacy. When we walk out of a room, either we leave behind the aroma of Christ that spreads the knowledge of Him everywhere (2 Corinthians 2:15-16), or we are leaving the less pleasant smell of self-promotion or the vacuum of saying and being nothing much at all. A legacy of faithfulness, godliness, kindness, gentleness, honesty, integrity, love, and peace is a legacy that will be remembered with affection. But most importantly, it will point people to the one whose life matters most—the Lord Jesus.

A legacy is the accretion of daily decisions to make a difference for Christ: to love Him and love our neighbor, to pursue peace and speak of Him. Today, you will build a small—or perhaps major—part of your own legacy. So do the work God has prepared for you to do and make a difference for Him. After all, we never know when we’ve just made our final deposit in the legacy we’re leaving.

Going Deeper: Titus 2:2–14

Will He Find Fruit?

Alistair Begg — Tue, 02 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“Seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to see if he could find anything on it. When he came to it, he found nothing but leaves, for it was not the season for figs. And he said to it, “May no one ever eat fruit from you again.” And his disciples heard it.”

Mark 11:13–14

Here is a narrative which “bristles with difficulties.”[1]

What’s staggering about Jesus cursing a fig tree here is that this is a miracle of destruction. Everything else that we see Jesus doing up to this point in Mark’s Gospel has been a miracle of transformation or of restoration. Since this is a complete aberration in contrast with Jesus’ other actions, we need to dig deeper into its significance.

In the Old Testament, both the vine and the fig tree are routinely used as metaphors to describe the Israelites’ status before God. When good fruit is growing from the vine or the tree, all is well; when bad fruit or no fruit is growing, God’s people have gone astray.

As Jesus observed the utter emptiness that was represented in the religious activities at that time, these words of the prophet Micah may have come to His mind: “Woe is me! For I have become as when the summer fruit has been gathered, as when the grapes have been gleaned: there is no cluster to eat, no first-ripe fig that my soul desires” (Micah 7:1).

Jesus’ cursing of a fig tree, then, was far from arbitrary. This scene was an acted parable of prophetic symbolism. He used the fig tree to demonstrate the judgment that was about to fall on Jerusalem. Jesus had come to the center of religious life looking for prayerfulness and fruitfulness and had discovered neither. The barren fig tree was emblematic of a ceremonial, religious legalism that claimed to satisfy the hungry heart and to please God, but when the people committed themselves to such religion, there was nothing there to satisfy—and this act of the divine Son shows that God was far from pleased.

Does this prophetic warning hold any significance for us, who live so far away from fig trees and temples? Yes! The challenge to bear good fruit is for us as well. Yet we must also beware confusing religious observances or rule-keeping self-righteousness with true fruit. God’s people are always in danger of an empty legalism replacing a vibrant relationship. What is the way to heed the warning of the withered fig tree? Elsewhere, Jesus tells us, “Every branch in me that does not bear fruit [the Father] takes away … I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:2, 5). In other words, we must look not to do better but to know Jesus more.

Is any aspect of what this fig tree represents true of your life? When Jesus comes and searches us, will He find fruit on our branches? Will He find faith? Remain humbly connected to Jesus, our Vine, and His Spirit will grow in you the very fruit for which He is looking.

Going Deeper: John 15:1–11

Footnotes:

[1] C. E. B. Cranfield, The Gospel According to Mark,Cambridge Greek Testament Commentary, ed. C.F.D. Moule (1959; reprinted Cambridge University Press, 2000), p 354.

The Prophet’s Burden

Alistair Begg — Mon, 01 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0400

“The oracle that Habakkuk the prophet saw.”

Habakkuk 1:1

The significance of true prophets was never found in who they were but in the message they proclaimed. It should be the same for us, too.

Take Habakkuk, for example. Biographical content about him is virtually nonexistent. All that we know of him is derived from the book of prophecy that bears his name, and that tells us very little; you can’t find him anywhere else in the Old Testament. However, this silence is significant. Habakkuk’s credentials were to be found entirely in his call.

We encounter this same perspective throughout biblical prophecy. We know more about some prophets than others—but even the things we know are not profound or compelling. Amos, for example, was simply “a herdsman and a dresser of sycamore figs” before God laid His hand upon him (Amos 7:14). Similarly, when John the Baptist was pressed for information about who he was, he testified, I’m a voice crying in the wilderness. I’m a light that is shining for a little while, but Jesus is the Light of the World. I am a finger pointing to Christ; He must increase, and I must decrease (see John 1:23; 5:35; 3:30).

In this opening verse of Habakkuk, the word for “oracle” is sometimes translated “burden.” What was the burden? It was the burden the prophet felt in seeing things according to the insight God had given, of looking at circumstances that others had seen but didn’t understand, and of bringing God’s wisdom and designs to bear upon those who listened.

Despite our modern preoccupations with personalities and credentials, in gospel preaching, teaching, and sharing it is the message that should always be the main focus. Every sermon preached and lesson taught and gospel conversation held eventually withers like grass. Its only worth is found insofar as the unerring truth and reliability of God’s word anchors itself in the listener’s soul. As David Wells writes, preaching—and any form of communication of God’s truth, based on God’s word, for that matter—“is not a conversation, a chat about some interesting ideas … No! This is God speaking! He speaks through the stammering lips of the preacher where that preacher’s mind is on the text of Scripture and his heart is in the presence of God.”[1]

Whether we are called to preach, teach, or share God’s word with a neighbor, there is an important lesson here: in our very core, there should be a genuine humility that comes from understanding the compelling nature of God’s call upon our lives. There should also be an excitement about it, though, for what would we rather give our lives to than this message that is so much bigger than ourselves, whose effects in the lives of others will last for eternity? Today, do not be too concerned with the messenger’s aptitudes and abilities; rather, make your concern the sharing of the message, however and with whomever you have been called to do it.

Going Deeper: Romans 10:11–17

Footnotes:

[1] The Courage to Be Protestant: Truth-Lovers, Marketers and Emergents in the Postmodern World (IVP, 2008), p 230.