Ephesians 3:20 – Today’s Verse for April 30, 2025 Wednesday

“Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us.“
— Ephesians 3:20 KJV

Reflection on Today's Verse

God doesn’t just meet our expectations—He blows them out of the water. It says He can do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine. That means even when we pray our biggest prayers, He’s still thinking bigger. While we try to manage life with logic and plans, God works with power—His power, not ours.

It’s wild how we limit Him sometimes, like He’s boxed in by our fears or timelines. But this verse tells us He’s operating on a whole other level. Not based on what we deserve, but on His grace working in us.

So today, trust that the God who sees the end from the beginning isn’t done surprising you. He’s still writing a story fuller, richer, and more beautiful than you ever dared to hope.

Personal Prayer

Lord, You see the things I barely dare to dream about—the hopes I’ve shelved, the prayers I’ve whispered in the dark. And yet, You promise to do more. Not just a little more—immeasurably more. That humbles me.

Forgive me for the times I’ve put limits on You, trying to shrink Your power to fit my comfort zone. Help me trust Your plans, even when they stretch me. Let Your power work through my weakness, and fill me with bold faith to ask, believe, and expect what only You can do.

Thank You for being the God of more. Not more stuff, but more purpose, more joy, more grace. I surrender the small version of my life and open my hands to Your greater one. Amen.

Author

Alona
Alona Smith writes like she sketches—quick strokes, bold colors, no eraser. She ran a small-town art studio before VerseForTheDay invited her to swap charcoal for chapters, yet paint still flecks her keyboard. Dawn finds her barefoot on the porch, swirling watercolors across a travel Bible, letting sunrise seep into the margins. Neighbors wave as she bikes to the farmers’ market, basket rattling with sunflowers and Psalms scribbled on kraft-paper price tags.Alona trusts that Scripture behaves like clay: press your palms in, and a vessel appears where empty air once lived. Afternoon workshops with foster teens prove the point; they mold hope into coffee mugs, then watch steam carry it forward.Diplomas? Only framed sketches of hands lifted in worship. Awards? A dog-eared gratitude list taped to her fridge. Open her reflections when cynicism scratches—she’ll slide a brush into your grip and show you light hiding in the smear of everyday color.