Mark 9:33-35 Then He came to Capernaum. And when He was in the house He asked them, “What was it you disputed among yourselves on the road?” But they kept silent, for on the road they had disputed among themselves who would be the greatest. And He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “If anyone desires to be first, he shall be last of all and servant of all.”
Yet as believers, we often consider ambition to be a bad and worldly thing. But Yeshua (Jesus) said, “He who would be greatest among you must be the servant of all.” So think about it … did Yeshua say we shouldn’t desire greatness? No, to the contrary, He recognized desire and ambition for significance and accomplishment. He even affirmed them, and gave instruction how to direct these passions. But His perspective required an important reorientation.
C.S. Lewis had something illuminating to share about this subject:
“If we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” (Excerpt from “The Weight of Glory”).
Lewis agrees with the Lord that desire and ambition should be intense, in the right expression, toward the right objective. Some people have great and passionate worldly desires and ambitions for wealth, power, fame, etc, and even these desires reveal an aspect of God’s image which every man carries, because God is great, with great desires, so those whom He created reflect this characteristic.
The critical element then, is not to kill desire, as for example Buddhist religion demands, but to sanctify it… How? Simply by yoking it to love for God and love for others, expressed by becoming a servant. Being great in God’s eyes comes from being great like Him, and in Him, who was the most exemplary servant ever.
Yeshua said that true greatness is achieved in servanthood. In this light, ambition, passion, and desire, under the unction of the Holy Spirit do not serve pride or vainglory, but are expressed in humility, servanthood, and self-giving.
Yeshua came from glory and lowered Himself from the heights of heaven, and so He taught us how to be great. The awesome paradox that the Son of God, entirely equal with the Father as His express image, became a flesh and blood human in order to die, is the quintessential act of loving servanthood. This qualified Him to receive the greatest Name above every name.
Perhaps you have been seeking to beat down your ambition, squelch your desire, and quench your unquenchable passions. Apart from being nearly impossible, short of becoming a self-flagellating monk, these energies ought rather to be redirected. Consecrate your passion, dedicate your desire, submit your ambition, by offering your body as a living sacrifice to God [Romans 12:1-2]. His Holy Spirit will inspire your desire, fashion your passion, and condition your ambition, to bear the beautiful fruit of His Spirit for His Kingdom’s sake. The greatest in the Kingdom will be the servant of all! Be a servant of His love, His compassion, and His grace. Exemplify Godly ambition!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]These verses capture one of the most profound Messianic truths in all of Scripture. What man cast aside, God exalted. What the builders saw as flawed and unfit, God chose as the foundation of His eternal plan. Yeshua (Jesus), the rejected One, is the very cornerstone upon which salvation, identity, and destiny are built. This is more than a theological concept — it’s a divine reversal that reveals the heart of redemption. Rejection by man does not disqualify–it often qualifies you for God’s greatest purposes.
These verses are far more than ancient lyrics — they are a spiritual invitation. The psalmist doesn’t just admire the gate — he pleads for it to open. “Open to me the gates of righteousness…” This is the cry of a heart that longs for access to God, not by merit, but by mercy. In Hebrew thought, gates represent transition points — thresholds between the common and the holy, the outside and the inner court, the temporal and the eternal. These are not man-made doors — they are divine entrances into the presence and promises of the LORD.
As we continue our study in Psalm 118, I want to take a deep dive into verses 17-18, where the psalmist makes one of the boldest declarations in all of Scripture: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD.” This isn’t the voice of someone untouched by pain — it’s the cry of someone who has been through the fire and come out declaring God’s faithfulness. This statement is not a denial of suffering; it’s a defiance of death. It’s the resolve of a heart that’s been chastened, refined, and pressed, yet remains confident in the God who preserves life — not just for survival, but for purpose.
Over the past two devotionals, we heard the song of the redeemed and stood at the wells of salvation. We saw how strength, song, and salvation flow from Yeshua Himself — how the joy of drawing from His presence is not just a poetic promise but a lifeline for our day. Yet today, we stand at a prophetic threshold. Something has shifted. Something has broken open. We are not only being refreshed — we are being awakened and called.
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.