Hebrews 5:13-14 For every one that useth milk is unskilful in the word of righteousness: for he is a babe. But strong meat belongeth to them that are of full age, even those who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern both good and evil.
For those of you who don't know, Merv Griffin died on Sunday. Interestingly enough, today's devotion has to do with a show of his from way back when.
The guest was a body builder. During the interview, Merv asked "Why do you develop those particular muscles"? The body builder simply stepped forward and flexed a series of well-defined muscles from chest to calf. The audience went wild. "What do you use all those muscles for"? Merv asked. Again, the muscular specimen flexed, and biceps and triceps sprouted to impressive proportions. "But what do you USE those muscles for"? Merv persisted. The body builder was bewildered. He didn't have an answer other than to display his well-developed frame.
Hmm. Made me think about our spiritual muscles. Are they only for show? Have we even developed any? I ask that because it has occurred to me that many of us are no more Christ-like today, than we were ten or twenty years ago. We're content with our new church buildings, our outstanding worship bands, our well-organized church programs and all the good friends we've made. But what about our spiritual development? What about our growth in the Lord? What about just us and Him?
With each year that passes, we should be able to say that we've grown in our faith. We should be able to say that we love God and others more today than we ever have before. If we can't say that, we're not growing in the Lord. It's hard to hear but it's so true.
I know my heart is convicted. How about yours? Let's start devoting ourselves to some spiritual body building today! There's so much work to be done!
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When the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years, they traversed a rugged, unpredictable landscape — mile after mile of mountains, valleys, rocks, and desert sands — as they journeyed from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land.
For many, God remains a theory—an idea borrowed from tradition, deduced from the cosmos, or tucked quietly into the corners of a creed. He is believed in from afar, but is rarely encountered. Even among believers, it’s not uncommon to live with a distant reverence for God while lacking a vibrant, personal communion with Him.
God has always longed for intimacy with us. He formed us for Himself–to walk with Him, to know Him, to delight in His Presence. This is the very heartbeat of creation: relationship, not religion. Yet sin drove a wedge between us. A veil was drawn, shutting out the light of His face and placing distance where there was once communion.
A beachhead is the first critical objective in a military invasion–the spot where a force lands on enemy territory and secures a position for greater advancement. It’s the place of breakthrough. And it’s also the place of fiercest resistance.
David wrote Psalm 3 while running for his life — betrayed, heartbroken, and hunted by his own son, Absalom. The weight of rebellion wasn’t just political; it was personal. His household had turned against him. Friends became foes. Loyal hearts grew cold. The throne he once held was now surrounded by enemies, and the whispers grew louder: “There is no salvation for him in God.”
Psalm 2 is a divine announcement — a heavenly decree that demands the world’s attention. It begins with a question: “Why do the nations rage, and the peoples plot in vain?” (Ps. 2:1). The nations rise up, not against injustice or tyranny, but against the rule of God’s Meshiach (Messiah). That Anointed is Yeshua — the Son whom the Father has set on His holy hill in Zion (Ps. 2:6). The psalm strips away all pretense and exposes the heart of human rebellion: it is a refusal to be ruled by His Messiah.
Psalm 1 opens with a sobering warning about the quiet, deadly slide into sin. The man without God doesn’t become a scorner overnight — he drifts there gradually. First, he walks in ungodly counsel, entertaining worldly thoughts. Then, he stands in the path of sinners, embracing their way of life. Finally, he sits in the seat of the scornful, hardened in heart and mocking what is sacred. This progression — from a man without God to scorner — reveals how small compromises grow into full rebellion, dulling the conscience and deadening the soul.