On this day, pause and listen to the claim that stands above all opinions and options: Jesus does not offer you a map, a philosophy, or a spiritual strategy. He looks straight at confused, anxious disciples and says, “I am the way and the truth and the life.” In one sentence He answers the ache of every restless heart: How do I get to God? How do I know what’s real? How do I truly live? Whatever else you are sorting out today, this verse draws a clear, loving line: everything you need is found in a Person, not a system—and that Person is Jesus.

The Way: More Than Directions, a Person to Follow

When Jesus says He is “the way,” He is not describing a set of religious steps; He is declaring Himself to be the only road back to the Father. Scripture is unapologetically clear: “Salvation exists in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). The way to God is not “be spiritual,” “be sincere,” or “do your best.” The way is a blood-stained cross, an empty tomb, and a living Savior who calls you to turn from sin and trust Him alone. This is gloriously narrow in one sense—and wonderfully open in another, because anyone who comes to Him in repentance and faith is welcomed.

But “the way” is not just how you start; it’s how you walk every day. Jesus said, “If anyone wants to come after Me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me” (Matthew 16:24). The Christian life is a daily choosing of His way over your own—His path over your preferences, His will over your instincts. Whatever crossroads you face today, the question underneath every decision is simple: Which direction keeps me following Jesus more closely? The way is not always easy, but it is always sure, because it is held together by His faithful hand, not your flawless performance.

The Truth: Solid Ground in a Shifting World

We live in a time when people say, “live your truth,” as if reality bends around our desires. Into that fog, Jesus stands and announces not just that He teaches truth, but that He is truth. To belong to Him is to step out of confusion and into clarity about who God is, who you are, and what life is for. “Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). Lies enslave—lies about sin, about identity, about what satisfies. Christ, the Truth, shatters those chains with the light of His Word and the power of His Spirit.

This means God’s Word is not optional or decorative in your walk with Jesus; it is how you stay anchored in Him. Jesus prayed, “Sanctify them by the truth; Your word is truth” (John 17:17). The more you soak in Scripture, the less you are tossed around by headlines, trends, or feelings. Today, bring your questions, your doubts, and your assumptions to the feet of Christ and His Word. Ask, “Lord, where am I believing a lie? Show me, correct me, free me.” Truth might confront you, but it will never crush you when it comes from the One who was crushed in your place.

The Life: Not Just Existence, but Resurrection

Jesus doesn’t merely rescue you from death; He becomes your very life. “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I have come that they may have life, and have it in all its fullness” (John 10:10). Life in Christ is not a tired, gray existence of religious duty; it is the vibrant pulse of His resurrection power in your everyday routines. He doesn’t just give you a ticket to heaven someday; He brings the life of heaven into your heart right now—new desires, new strength to fight sin, new joy in pleasing God.

This is why Scripture can say, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20), and, “He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life” (1 John 5:12). Real life is not found in success, relationships, or pleasure, but in union with Jesus Himself. Today, instead of merely asking Him to fix your circumstances, ask Him to deepen your experience of His life within you. Where you feel spiritually numb, ask for fresh hunger. Where you feel weak, ask to know His strength. He is not asking you to “try harder”; He is inviting you to abide in the One who is your life (Colossians 3:4).

Lord Jesus, thank You for being my way, my truth, and my life; today, move me to trust You more deeply and follow You more boldly in every decision I make. Amen.

Men and women who read and study the Scriptures for their literary beauty alone have missed the whole purpose for which they were given. God's Word is not to be enjoyed as one might "enjoy" a Beethoven symphony or a poem by Wordsworth. The reason: the Bible demands immediate action, faith, surrender, committal. Until it has secured these, it has done nothing positive for the reader, but it has increased his responsibility and deepened the judgment that must follow. The Bible was called forth by the fall of man. It is the voice of God calling men home from the wilds of sin; it is a road map for returning prodigals. It is instruction in righteousness, light in darkness, information about God and man and life and death and heaven and hell. Further, the destiny of each individual depends upon the response to that Voice in the Word!

Comfort ye, comfort ye My people saith your God, - Isaiah 40:1

This magnificent chapter is the prelude or overture to the grand music of the second part of the prophecies of Isaiah. Its first words are its keynote: " Comfort ye. comfort ye My people." That purpose is kept steadily in view throughout; and in this introductory chapter the prophet points to the one foundation of hope and consolation for Babylonian exiles, or for modern Englishmen, to that grand vision of the enthroned God "sitting on the circle of the earth, before whom the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers."

"They build too low who build beneath the sky."

For nations and for individuals, in view of political disasters or of private sorrows, the only hold-fast to which cheerful hope may cling is the old conviction, " The Lord God Omnipotent reigneth."

Notice how, first, the prophet points to the unwearied God; and then his eyes drop from Heaven to the clouded, saddened earth, where there are the faint and the weak, and the strong becoming faint, and the youths fading and becoming weak with age. Then he binds together these two opposites - the unwearied God and the fainting man- in the grand thought that He is the Giving God, who bestows all His power on the weary. And see how, finally, he rises to the blessed conception of the wearied man becoming like the Unwearied God. " They shall run, and not be weary; they shall walk, and not faint."

And let me say, here is a lesson for us to learn of meditative reflection upon the veriest commonplaces of our religion. There is a tendency amongst us all to forget the indubitable, and to let our religious thought be occupied with the disputable and secondary parts of revelation rather than with the plain deep verities which form its heart and centre. The commonplaces of religion are the most important. Everybody needs air, light, bread, and water. Dainties are for the few; but the table which our religion sometimes spreads for them is like that at a rich man’s feast - plenty of rare dishes, but never a bit of bread; plenty of wine and wine-glasses, but not a tumblerful of spring water to be had. Every pebble that you kick with your foot, if thought about and treasured, contains the secret of the universe. The commonplaces of our faith are the food upon which our faith will most richly feed.

And so here, in the old, old Word, that we all take for granted as being so true that we do not need to think about it, lies the source of all consolation-the Hope for men, for churches, for the world. We all have times, depending on mood or circumstances, when things seem black and we are weary. This great truth will shine into our gloom like a star into a dungeon. Are our hearts to tremble for God’s truth to-day? Are we to share in the pessimist views of some faint-hearted and little-faith Christians? Surely as long as we can remember the name of the Lord, and His unwearied arm, we have nothing to do with fear or sadness for ourselves, or for His Church, or for His world.