Genesis 6:13 And God said to Noah, “I have determined to make an end of all flesh, for the earth is filled with violence [Hamas] through them. Behold, I will destroy them with the earth.
Psalms 11:5 The LORD tests the righteous, but his soul hates the wicked and the one who loves violence [Hamas].
2 Peter 2:5 if he did not spare the ancient world, but preserved Noah, a herald of righteousness, with seven others, when he brought a flood upon the world of the ungodly;
If these really are the “Days of Noah,” we would expect to see a world filled with increasing violence. The Hebrew for “violence” is “Hamas”(חָמָס), by coincidence, the name of the terrorist organization Israel has been fighting for decades. And simply perusing my news briefs in recent years gives abundant evidence for the conclusion that this terrible season is well underway. Noah’s day was filled with violence and also false witness, which is a second meaning for the word “Hamas” [e.g., Deut. 19:16; Psalm 35:11]; violence and lies, then and now…
What greater test for individuals and communities of righteousness could there be but days like these? “The LORD tests the righteous, but his soul hates the wicked and the one who loves violence, (and false witness)”; [hamas]. How often do we need to hear it, “your faith is being, will be, tested”? [1 Peter 4:12] Yeshua (Jesus) was tested in the wilderness, for 40 days, and by the devil himself, and we read that there was no violence (Hamas) found in Him, nor any deceit in his mouth [Isaiah 53:9]. If it was necessary for the Messiah Himself to be tested, should it be strange for us to be so subjected?
Noah was also tested while he built and preached during those dark days. There must have been plenty of mocking and false witnesses circulating throughout the violent community surrounding him. It is the same today, with Hamas– the media portraying any report given by terrorists as fact. Indeed, we too, are surrounded by false witnesses seeking to provoke and fill the world with violence.
Noah was called a “preacher of righteousness” in a violent world. Yeshua was surrounded by false witnesses, and yet “Hamas” was not found in Him. It can be done. God doesn’t test us to prove we will fail and succumb to this wicked generation. He tests us to build faith and transform our character [James 1:2-4]. We can prove the authenticity of Yeshua in this violent and deceitful age, if we stand the testing intended to transform us. And then, both our lives and our words will be the message in the present Days of Noah.
Copyright 1999-2026 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
How to display the above article within the Worthy Suite WordPress Plugin.
[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Yesterday, we heard the anthem of the redeemed rise like a trumpet blast: “The LORD is my strength and song, and He has become my salvation.” We explored how this was more than personal — it was prophetic, Messianic, and generational. We saw Yeshua not only as our Deliverer but as the very embodiment of God’s strength, the melody of our praise, and the fulfillment of every promise. We stood in awe as tents of rejoicing rose in the midst of warfare, and households became sanctuaries of celebration. But today, we go deeper — we step to the well.
There’s a reason this verse resounds like a national anthem of the redeemed. It’s not just a personal declaration—it’s a generational cry that echoes back to Moses at the Red Sea (Exodus 15:2) and forward to the final deliverance of Israel. The Hebrew word for salvation—Yeshua—makes this verse unmistakably Messianic. It isn’t a vague deliverance. It is the revelation of Yeshua (Jesus), the Deliverer, who embodies strength, becomes our song, and stands as the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan.
The cry that shattered the stillness of Golgotha—“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46)—was not a random cry of despair, but the deliberate voice of Yeshua pointing to Scripture. As He hung on the tree, bearing the sin of the world, He invoked the ancient words of David—not only identifying Himself as the righteous sufferer, but signaling that Psalm 22 was unfolding before their very eyes. In that moment, heaven and earth bore witness to a divine mystery: the Holy One, seemingly abandoned, was fulfilling a prophecy written a millennium earlier. Yeshua did not merely suffer—He fulfilled every word, every shadow, every stroke of divine prophecy.
King David wrote these words generations before the empty tomb shook the foundations of death. At first glance, Psalm 16 reads like a personal prayer of trust — a yearning for security and closeness with God. But beneath the surface, the Spirit was revealing something deeper, something eternal: a promise not just for David, but for all of us.
The majestic Messianic prophecy of Isaiah 9 culminates in a powerful declaration: “The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this.” Not might. Not maybe. Not if we work hard enough. It will be done — because God Himself is passionate to see it through. The Hebrew word for “zeal” here is קִנְאָה (kin’ah), which also means jealousy or burning passion. This is not passive interest — it’s the fiery determination of the LORD of Hosts to establish His Kingdom. The same fiery zeal that struck Egypt with plagues—shattering the power of false gods, that parted the Red Sea and made a way where there was none, that birthed a nation from the womb of slavery, and that drove the Son of God to the cross at Calvary — is the very zeal that will fulfill every promise declared in Isaiah 9.
In a world weary from political upheaval, moral confusion, and fleeting peace, Isaiah offers us a vision of something profoundly different—an ever-increasing kingdom ruled by a King whose justice is not compromised, whose peace is not fleeting, and whose throne is eternally secure. The phrase “of the increase of His government and peace there will be no end” speaks not just of duration, but of expansion—a kingdom that doesn’t plateau, doesn’t weaken, and doesn’t shrink back in the face of darkness. Instead, it advances, multiplies, and transforms.
In the Hebraic understanding, a name isn’t just a label—it reveals essence, identity, and destiny. Isaiah doesn’t say these are merely descriptions of the Messiah; he says His Name shall be called — meaning this is who He is. When we declare these names, we are not offering poetic praise — we are calling upon real attributes of the living King. In just one verse, the prophet unveils the depth of Messiah’s personhood, showing us that this child is no ordinary child. He is the fulfillment of heaven’s promise and the revelation of God’s nature.