The book of Ruth reads, at first, like a beautiful and quiet family drama. There are no plagues, no parted seas, no walls falling down. There is only an old woman, her young daughter-in-law, a barley field, and a kind man at harvest time. And yet beneath the gentle surface of this story is something that leads us straight to the heart of the gospel — straight to Jesus Himself.

This lesson is built on Luke 24 — that quiet, world-changing seven-mile walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus, on the very day Christ rose from the dead. Two disciples, heads down, hearts heavy, did not yet recognize the risen Lord walking beside them.

The book of Joshua is a remarkable book in the Old Testament. At first glance it reads like history — the conquest of Canaan under Joshua's leadership, with all its battles and boundaries and tribal inheritances. But when we look closer, we discover something far greater. There is a profound revelation of Jesus Christ within these pages.

The whole letter to the Colossians grew out of a problem that troubled many first‑century Christians: the temptation to receive the gospel only in part, while quietly holding on to the old life they had always known.

Although Jesus Christ is not mentioned by name in Deuteronomy, the New Testament repeatedly shows that Deuteronomy points to Him. Deuteronomy shows humanity’s need for a faithful Saviour — and Jesus Christ is the perfect fulfilment of that need.

This is the key to reading the Old Testament rightly. The books of Moses are not merely ancient history, national records, laws, journeys, and rituals. They contain patterns, pictures, and shadows that point forward to Christ. The book of Numbers, the fourth book of the Old Testament, records Israel’s wilderness journey, their failures, their complaints, their unbelief, and also God’s continued mercy and provision. Yet within these events, Christ is seen.

The book of Leviticus contains 27 chapters and follows the events of Exodus, when the children of Israel were in the wilderness at the foot of Mount Sinai. At first glance, Leviticus may appear to be mainly about laws, priests, sacrifices, cleanliness, and ceremonies. Yet at its heart, the book is about something far deeper: how sinful people may approach a holy God.

How do you read the Old Testament? Do you read it as a collection of ancient stories — interesting, perhaps even inspiring, but distant from the Gospel? Or do you read it with the New Testament as your spectacles — putting them on first, and then looking at every story, every character, every law, every symbol, asking: what does this have to do with Jesus Christ?

Through repeated trials, Solomon figured out that the true meaning of life was not living “under the sun,” but living according to God's will or in the purpose of God. He knew that humanity's best choice was to enjoy life as much as possible and trust in God's goodness and ultimate plan.

This is the second lesson in our series on Christ in All the Scriptures — a journey through every book of the Bible to show that from the very first book to the very last, it is telling one story, building one portrait, pointing to one Person.  

The Old Testament and the New Testament must be read together — all 66 books, as a single, unified, God-breathed whole.  To read the 39 books of the Old Testament without the 27 books of the New is to look at half a jigsaw puzzle and conclude that the picture makes no sense.  Of course it is incomplete.  The pieces that bring it together are waiting in the New Testament — and once they are placed, the image that emerges is unmistakable.

In the closing verses of Matthew 23 — the final words of Jesus' great Sermon of Woes.  And these verses do not end quietly.  They end with a cry of grief from the heart of the Son of God.  To understand them well, we need to approach them honestly and carefully, because these words have been tragically misread and misused across the centuries in ways that have caused immense suffering. 

It is one of the oldest and most contested questions in human history.  Pilate asked it of Jesus standing before him, and walked away without waiting for the answer.  Philosophers have argued over it for millennia.  In our own age, people speak freely of "my truth" and "your truth", as though truth itself were a personal preference — something each individual gets to define for themselves.  

This final woe touches something that is deeply familiar — not just to the Pharisees of the first century, but to us today.  We all know what it is to look at the failures of others — past or present — and say, quietly or loudly: I would never have done that.  I would have known better.  And yet, the very sins we most confidently condemn in others are so often the ones silently at work in our own hearts.

This lesson continues the series through Matthew 23 — the Sermon of Woes — where Jesus confronts the Scribes and Pharisees with a directness that leaves no room for misunderstanding.  Jesus is calling out specific behaviours that His audience — the Jewish people and the religious leaders alike — would have recognised immediately.  They knew exactly what He was describing.

Few topics draw as much debate among Christians as the question of alcohol.  Some appeal to 1 Timothy 5:23, where Paul advises Timothy to use a little wine for his stomach's sake and frequent infirmities, to argue that moderate drinking in private is perfectly acceptable.  Others go further, suggesting that moderate social drinking in private causes no harm to anyone around them.   

Jesus paints a picture of someone working desperately to remove the tiniest insect from his cup while simultaneously consuming the largest unclean animal without even realising it.  The image is darkly comic — and deeply convicting.  Because we are all susceptible to this same trap.

This lesson centers on the powerful account in Mark 2:1–12, where four men carried a paralytic to Jesus. While the miracle itself is remarkable, the focus of the message is not only on the healed man, but on the four bed carriers — their faith, determination, compassion, teamwork, and willingness to pay the price.

In Matthew 23:16–22, Jesus continues His rebuke of the scribes and Pharisees, exposing a subtle but dangerous hypocrisy — people who appeared religious but used clever wording to avoid keeping their promises

This passage forces an uncomfortable but necessary question: Are we making God hard or impossible for others? Sometimes believers mean well, yet unknowingly create barriers instead of bridges.