James 2:20-23 Do you want to be shown, you foolish person, that faith apart from works is useless? Was not Abraham our father justified by works when he offered up his son Isaac on the altar? You see that faith was active along with his works, and faith was completed by his works; and the Scripture was fulfilled that says, “Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness”—and he was called a friend of God.
Looking at the relationship between “love and affection” (“chiba” in Hebrew) and “obligation” (“chova” in Hebrew), we find another closely related word, “chaver”, one of the Hebrew words for “friend”. Friends are people with whom we share love and affection and also a sense of obligation. Our God and Father wants us to be His friends, to share love and affection with Him and to carry the sense of responsibility and obligation which friendship requires.
Abraham was a friend to God. He believed and trusted His Friend, but he also came to share the awesome responsibility of that friendship. Abraham’s Friend, the Lord Himself, asked Abraham to become a living picture of His relationship with His own Son, Yeshua, (Jesus), by offering his own beloved son Isaac on an altar at Mount Moriah. Abraham’s response to his Friend’s request expressed a level of commitment to the friendship which was probably unprecedented in all human history since the time of Adam.
As we consider these Hebrew words and their common roots, we begin to see that Biblical language expresses profound realities, and carries meanings which resound through history. And we find that the God of all creation desires an intimate friendship with human beings He created and loves. But that friendship involves degrees of commitment which test the very frontiers of relationship. If you are on one of those frontiers, you may count yourself blessed. Not everyone is called “a friend of God.”
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]This piercing question opens Psalm 11 like a cry from the heart in troubled times. It’s a question we ask when law and order collapse, when truth is ridiculed, and when those who do evil seem to triumph. The foundations — the principles of righteousness, justice, and truth that uphold society — are under siege. And it begs the question: What can God’s people do when everything righteous seems to be crumbling?
After one of the greatest spiritual victories in all of Scripture–calling down fire from heaven on Mount Carmel and turning the hearts of Israel back to God–Elijah finds himself blindsided by fear.
Elijah heard what no one else did — a storm was coming. Though the sky was still blue and the ground still cracked from years of drought, Elijah discerned the sound of abundance. It was a prophetic knowing, a spiritual sensitivity that saw past what was visible into what God was about to do.
When Elijah cast his cloak over Elisha in the field, it wasn’t just a symbolic act — it was a divine call. Elisha understood this and responded not with delay or excuse, but with decisive action. After asking to say goodbye to his parents, he returned, slaughtered his oxen, and used the wooden yokes as fuel for the sacrifice. Then he gave the meal to the people and walked away from everything familiar to follow the prophet Elijah.
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.