2 Cor 5:18-21 All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; 19 that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. 20 Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. 21 For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.
“All this is from God…” These words usher us into the breathtaking reality that salvation is not born of human effort, wisdom, or willpower — it is entirely the work of God. From beginning to end, it is His plan, His initiative, His unrelenting grace. Through Yeshua (Jesus), God stepped into our brokenness and reconciled us to Himself, repairing the relationship that sin had shattered. Reconciliation is not merely a theological concept — it is the restoration of intimacy with the Father. We did not ascend to Him in holiness; He descended to us in mercy. The Creator did not wait for us to find our way back. No, He came down through Yeshua, arms stretched wide in love, calling us home.
“…and gave us the ministry of reconciliation.” These words shift the focus from what God has done for us to what He now desires to do through us. Reconciliation is not the end of the story—it is the beginning of a new calling. Those whom the love of God has restored are now commissioned to carry that same love to others. We are not passive recipients of grace; we are active participants in God’s redemptive mission. The healing we’ve received becomes the message we proclaim. Every believer, regardless of title or platform, is entrusted with this ministry—to be a bridge, a voice of hope, a vessel of truth and mercy to a world aching for peace. Reconciled people become reconcilers — it is both our identity and our sacred responsibility.
“…God was reconciling the world to Himself in Messiah, not counting their trespasses against them…” What staggering mercy this is—that the holy and righteous God, who has every right to judge, instead chooses to forgive. Through Yeshua, our debt has not just been reduced—it has been completely erased. The weight of guilt, the record of wrongs, the shame of our past—wiped clean by the blood of the Lamb. This is not a theory; it’s a liberating reality. And now, we carry this message like fire in our bones: your sins are no longer counted against you. This is the heartbeat of the gospel—a glorious invitation to come home to a God who has already made the way.
“… We are ambassadors for Messiah.” You are not just a believer—you are an ambassador. An official representative of the King of Kings. God makes His appeal through us. When we speak the message of reconciliation, it is as if Messiah Himself is calling out through our voice: “Be reconciled to God!” Let this truth humble and embolden you. You are not alone in your witness—God speaks through your life.
“He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us…” This is the heart of the gospel. Yeshua, utterly without sin, took on the entire weight and curse of our sin, not a fraction, but all of it. In exchange, we are given not merely forgiveness, but the righteousness of God Himself. This is not something we strive to earn—it is a new identity, received by faith. In Messiah, we are declared righteous.
So now, as one whose blood Yeshua has reconciled, rise and take up your calling. The world is desperate for peace, for truth, for the hope that only comes through the Messiah. You are His voice, His hands, His ambassador. Don’t remain silent—plead with the lost, shine with His righteousness, and carry the message of reconciliation everywhere you go. Be bold. Be faithful. Be His Ambassador of Reconciliation!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Elijah had just come through one of the most intense seasons of his life. He had called down fire from heaven on Mount Carmel, seen the prophets of Baal defeated, and yet found himself running in fear from Jezebel, exhausted and discouraged. In the cave at Horeb, he cried out, believing he was alone and that all was lost. But it was there—in the still small voice—that God revealed His presence and His plan.
Over the weekend, the United States launched a bold operation aimed at ending Iran’s nuclear program. In the quiet of the night, unseen by human eyes, B-2 Spirit bombers initiated Operation Midnight Hammer—a precision strike designed to eliminate hidden threats before they could bring harm. With unmatched stealth, they cut through the darkness, delivering a decisive blow against danger.
Every true move of revival begins where few look for it—at the hidden brook, in the quiet place of God’s pruning. Cherith (נַחַל כְּרִית) means to cut off, to separate, to covenant. Before Elijah could stand on Mount Carmel and call down fire, he had to be separated, set apart for God’s purposes.
Before God’s servants can stand in high places before men, they must first bow low before Him. Elijah, fresh from proclaiming God’s judgment to Ahab, might have felt indispensable to God’s plan. Yet the following command was unexpected: “Hide yourself.” The brook Cherith became Elijah’s place of humbling, where pride was stripped away, self-reliance was broken, and his soul learned the sweetness of depending on God alone.
God’s servants must learn to walk by faith–one step at a time. This is a simple lesson, yet one that challenges even the most faithful. Consider Elijah: before he left his quiet home in Thisbe to stand before King Ahab with the word of the Lord, how many questions must have stirred his heart!
As we continue our journey through the life of Elijah, let us take heart in this: Elijah was a man just like us. He was not born with heroic strength or unshakable resolve. He knew weakness, fear, and moments of failure—the same struggles we face. And yet, this one man, by faith, stood alone against a tide of sin and idolatry. By faith, he turned a nation back to God.
Over the past few years, some leaders who once inspired many have fallen into scandals that have brought harm and confusion to the body of Christ. In moments like these, it’s easy to feel disillusioned or lost, as if the work of God depends on human vessels who have failed us. But I’m reminded of how Elisha responded when Elijah was taken from him. His eyes were not on the departing servant but on the living God. “Where is the Lord God of Elijah?” he cried — not, “Where is Elijah?” That cry holds a lesson for us today: our hope and strength are not in human leaders, but in the God who works through them—and who remains faithful even when men falter.