In John 10:9-10, Jesus declares, “I am the door,” revealing a profound truth about His role as both the access point to salvation and the ongoing source of spiritual provision. In the shepherding culture of first-century Judea, sheepfolds had a single opening, and at night, the shepherd would often lie across that gap—literally becoming the door to guard and protect the flock. With this context, Jesus is not only inviting us in, but also pledging to personally protect, lead, and nourish those who belong to Him. “Go in and out and find pasture” was a Hebrew idiom for peace, security, and blessing—promises rooted in Old Testament passages like Psalm 121:8 and Deuteronomy 28:6, now fulfilled in the person of Christ.

Jesus contrasts His mission with that of “the thief” who comes to steal, kill, and destroy. In stark opposition, He comes to give life—life that is full, rich, and overflowing. This abundant life is not about material wealth or worldly comfort but about spiritual vitality, eternal purpose, and deep communion with God. It is peace that sustains in hardship, joy that strengthens in sorrow, and hope that endures through every trial. Jesus is offering more than rescue from danger; He offers restoration into wholeness and an enduring relationship with the Good Shepherd who never leaves nor forsakes His sheep.

To enter by Jesus is to embrace the only true path to God. It is to find pasture—not only future promise, but present provision. In Him, we are safe, we are known, and we are sustained. Every day becomes an invitation to trust the Shepherd who laid down His life for the sheep and now leads us in and out with watchful care. This is not shallow religion—it is abundant life in Christ, marked by freedom, nourishment, and the deep assurance that we are always in the care of the One who is both the Door and the Shepherd.

We have just launched a new series. 10:10 with Jesus: A Deeper Look.

The Gospel of John is a tremendous gift – offering us profound insights into Jesus' identity, mission, teachings, character, and ongoing work in the world.

We need to get deeper with Jesus because a surface-level relationship will never satisfy the depth of our need or the depth of His love. Life is complex, painful, and filled with challenges that simple answers and shallow faith can’t address. A deeper relationship with Jesus gives us spiritual roots: roots that anchor us in truth when emotions waver, when trials shake us, and when the world pulls us in a hundred different directions.

Understanding that Jesus is the vine and the bread of life helps us get deep by revealing that He is not just a guide or example but our very source of life and sustenance. As the vine, He is the one through whom we receive strength, growth, and the ability to bear fruit; apart from Him, we wither. As the bread of life, He nourishes our souls in a way nothing else can: He fills the hunger we carry for meaning, belonging, and peace. Together, these metaphors teach us that going deeper with Jesus isn’t about achieving more, but about staying connected, abiding, and depending on Him moment by moment for everything we truly need.

In calling Himself the Good Shepherd, Jesus declares that His leadership is not driven by control but by sacrificial love. This identity is more than a title; it is a lifeline for a weary, wandering people.

When Jesus declares, “I am the good shepherd,” He draws from rich biblical tradition and personal compassion to reveal His deep, sacrificial love for His people. Unlike hired hands who flee at danger, Jesus presents Himself as the one who protects, knows, and lays down His life for the sheep. His statement echoes themes from earlier teachings where He described people as “sheep without a shepherd” and shared stories like the parable of the lost sheep to express God’s relentless pursuit of the wayward. Spoken during a heated exchange with the Pharisees, Jesus uses this imagery to contrast His faithful, self-giving leadership with the neglect of corrupt religious authorities. His message was both a fulfillment of prophecy and a present invitation to trust His intimate, protective care.

Understanding Jesus as the good shepherd calls us to acknowledge our vulnerability and embrace His trustworthy guidance. Sheep are beloved but dependent—they need a shepherd’s voice, presence, and protection. Jesus promises that kind of attentive, enduring care. His leadership is personal, His pursuit unrelenting, His presence constant, and His sacrifice unmatched. To go deeper with Him means surrendering our illusion of control, quieting the noise of self-reliance, and learning to recognize and follow His voice. Jesus doesn’t just want to be admired from afar—He wants to be known, trusted, and followed. And in a world full of hired hands and false guides, only the Good Shepherd is worthy of our whole-hearted devotion.

When Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life,” He wasn’t simply using a poetic image. He was pointing to the most essential need of every human heart—spiritual sustenance found in Him alone. For people who lived on bread as their main source of nutrition, this metaphor would have felt immediate and tangible. It connected their daily hunger to their deeper longing for eternal life.

Jesus contrasted the temporary provision of physical bread with the eternal satisfaction found in Him. Just as the Israelites received manna from heaven in the wilderness, now a new kind of bread—true, lasting, heavenly bread—was present in the person of Christ. He is not just a gift from God, but God Himself, offering His very body and blood to nourish and redeem us.

To abide in Jesus is to trust Him for more than help—it is to rely on Him for life itself. Our hearts are restless until they feast on His presence, truth, and love. In a world of quick fixes and fleeting pleasures, Jesus remains our daily bread, our eternal hope, and the only One who satisfies completely.

In John 15, Jesus offers one of His most intimate and powerful teachings: “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser… you are the branches.” Spoken on the eve of His crucifixion, these words were more than a metaphor—they were a lifeline for His disciples and for us. Abiding in Jesus is not a passive act or religious formality; it is the very heartbeat of discipleship. It means to remain, to dwell, to stay connected—not just in moments of worship or crisis, but in the everyday choices and rhythms of life.

This image would have resonated deeply with the disciples. In the Hebrew Scriptures, Israel was often described as a vine—planted, tended, but often fruitless. By calling Himself the “true vine,” Jesus was declaring that He alone fulfills what Israel could not: a faithful, fruitful life fully rooted in the Father’s will. To abide in Him is to let His life flow into every part of our being. And in that process, the Father lovingly prunes us—not to punish, but to prepare us for greater fruit. Painful seasons can become the soil of growth when we trust the Gardener’s hand.

Ultimately, this passage reminds us that apart from Jesus, we can do nothing—not some things, not a few things, but nothing that truly matters. The spiritual fruit we long to see—love, joy, peace, patience, purpose—grows only from intimacy with Christ. The call to abide is both a challenge and a comfort: a challenge to stay rooted even when pruning hurts, and a comfort that we are never alone, never disconnected, never without source or strength. Jesus does not just want to visit our lives; He wants to inhabit them. And in Him, we bear much fruit.

Today, we share one final devotional drawn from our original musical, “The Disciple Whom Jesus Loves.” This episode is rooted in grace, restoration, and hope—for two disciples (Peter and Thomas), and for us.

Peter was bold, passionate, and deeply loyal. He walked on water, declared Jesus as the Christ, and stood by Him with a sword in Gethsemane. Yet, in his most vulnerable moment, by a charcoal fire, Peter denied even knowing Jesus—not once, but three times.

Still, Peter’s story didn’t end there.

By another fire—this one after the resurrection—Jesus called Peter back. No condemnation. No list of wrongs. Just three simple but soul-piercing questions: “Do you love Me?” And with each answer, Jesus rewrote Peter’s failure with purpose: “Feed my sheep.”

This tender exchange inspired today’s featured song: “He Still Calls My Name.”

Thomas, too, had a journey. His famous doubt wasn’t cynicism—it was heartbreak. He had hoped. And then he had watched hope die on a cross.

But Jesus came back for him, too.

He met Thomas right where he was—in his grief, his confusion, his need for proof. “Put your finger here. See my hands,” Jesus said. And in that moment, doubt turned to declaration:
“My Lord and my God.”

Like Peter, Thomas wasn’t shamed for his weakness. He was met with love.

• You are never too far gone. Peter denied. Thomas doubted. Jesus restored both. He still restores us.
• He still calls your name. Not as a reminder of your past, but as a promise of your future.
• Failure is not final. If we return to the fire where Jesus waits, grace is always greater.
• Doubt can be a doorway. When brought honestly to God, it can lead to deeper faith.

Today we continue our post-musical devotionals by reflecting on one of the most sacred and emotionally powerful moments in the life of Jesus—the Garden of Gethsemane—through the song “Not My Will.”

Throughout the Gospels, we see Jesus deeply moved—He weeps at Lazarus’ tomb, mourns over Jerusalem, burns with righteous anger in the temple, and extends compassion to the sick and outcast. These glimpses into His heart remind us that Jesus didn’t float above human pain—He entered into it fully.

But in Gethsemane, we find Jesus most vulnerable. His sorrow is deep. His sweat, like drops of blood. His prayer, raw and trembling:
“Abba, Father… take this cup from me. Yet not my will, but Yours be done.”

This is not the cry of despair—it’s the cry of surrender. Love’s highest moment isn’t found on the mountaintop but in the garden, beneath olive trees, in the still of the night, where Jesus says yes to the will of the Father, even when it leads to suffering.

Through poetic verses and haunting refrains, the featured song brings Gethsemane to life:

• “Must it be blood that redeems?”
  This echoes the weight of the cross pressing in—not just the physical agony, but the spiritual burden of sin.
• “Yet not my will, but Yours be done.”
  This is the heartbeat of our Savior’s obedience—and the invitation extended to every believer.

• The Garden is a Mirror
  We, too, face moments of anguish. Seasons of uncertainty. Questions without answers. And yet, in Jesus’ surrender, we find a path to peace—not through avoidance, but through trust.
• He Chose the Cross Freely
  As the lyrics say, “No one takes it from me… I lay it down.” Jesus wasn’t trapped. He was determined. He bore the cup for our redemption.
• Heaven Sent Strength
  Luke 22:43 reminds us: “An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him.” The cup wasn’t taken away, but strength was given. This is often how God meets us: not by removing the suffering, but by walking with us through it.

Today’s episode continues our devotionals drawn from The Disciple Whom Jesus Loves, our musical journey through the Gospel of John.

As Jesus gathered His disciples for their final meal together, He didn’t just offer farewell words. He delivered something deeper: a sacred commission that would become the foundation of Christian identity. It wasn’t a strategy for church growth or a list of religious rituals—it was a simple but revolutionary mandate:

“A new commandment I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” (John 13:34)

This is the heartbeat of today’s featured song: “A New Commandment.”

It weaves together Jesus’ words in the upper room—the call to love, the promise of comfort, the revelation of eternal hope. Its lyrics remind us:

• That love is the mark of true discipleship.
• That this new commandment isn’t merely about loving well—but about loving like Jesus.
• That sacrificial love is our witness to the world.

Highlights:

• A New Measure of Love:
  Jesus doesn’t just tell us to love—He tells us how: as I have loved you. This is love that kneels to serve, that forgives betrayal, that endures the cross. It’s humble, holy, and hard.
• A Love That Prepares:
  Even as He prepared to leave, Jesus offered comfort: “Do not let your hearts be troubled… I go to prepare a place for you.” Love was not only His command; it was His promise.
• A Love That Identifies:
  “By this all will know that you are my disciples…”
  The world knows we are His—not by our theology or church attendance—but by our love. Not just affection or agreement, but love in action: forgiving, serving, sacrificing.

In today’s episode, we continue our series of devotionals based on the songs from our musical The Disciple Whom Jesus Loves. We turn our focus to one of the most intimate and powerful moments of worship recorded in the Gospels—the anointing of Jesus’ feet by a woman whose act of love was misunderstood by many, but honored by the Savior Himself.

In Luke 7, an unnamed woman, known as a sinner, breaks social norms and religious expectations to express repentance and adoration. In John 12, Mary of Bethany anoints Jesus’ feet with costly perfume. Though their identities differ, their posture is the same: brokenness yielding to love, and love overflowing in worship.

For centuries, Christian tradition often merged Mary Magdalene, Mary of Bethany, and the sinful woman of Luke into a single figure. But modern scholarship—particularly in Eastern Christianity—separates them, giving each woman her rightful story. Mary Magdalene: a healed follower and first witness of the resurrection. Mary of Bethany: a disciple of deep spiritual insight. The unnamed woman in Luke: a portrait of transformation.

Each story is unique. Each testimony vital. And each reveals how Jesus receives those who give everything out of love.

“Love and Honor,” a tender ballad, drawn from the perspective of Mary of Bethany, invites us into her heart:

“They see a waste, but I see a King—
I pour it all out, I give everything.”

Her offering was more than perfume—it was her trust, her dignity, her story. Others saw extravagance. Jesus saw worship.

Reflections:

• Worship is Costly. True worship is not measured in convenience, but in sacrifice. Like Mary, we are invited to pour out what matters most—not because God needs it, but because He’s worthy of it.
• Honor Requires Courage. When Mary anointed Jesus, she was judged. Ridiculed. Dismissed. But love compelled her. Sometimes, the greatest acts of honor come when we choose faith over public approval.
• Let the Fragrance Rise. Every act of obedience, every quiet prayer, every costly decision done in love becomes a fragrance before God. Your worship isn’t just heard—it’s remembered.