Genesis 6:14 “Make thee an ark of gopher wood; rooms shalt thou make in the ark, and shalt pitch it within and without with pitch.”
Genesis 6:17 “And, behold, I, even I, do bring a flood of waters upon the earth, to destroy all flesh,wherein is the breath of life, from under heaven; and every thing that is in the earth shall die.”
Continuing from yesterday concerning storms; not sure we can place Noah’s flood, a worldwide conflagration, in that category, but if there really is such a thing as a “Perfect Storm”, that was…and Noah and his family were, anyway, prepared. And it’s been said that we are in the recapitulated, “Days of Noah”; [Matthew 24:37].
“Make thee an ark of gopher (גפר) wood…”. There’s been much discussion about the identity of this “gopher wood”. Some scholars say Cedar, some, Cypress, while others suggest an alternative reading, which once again demonstrates how the Hebrew language is used by the Holy Spirit in a suggestive and layered, even poetic manner, to point to “types” and profound spiritual truths. Whatever the species of the “gopher” wood, the similarity between the term, ‘gopher’ (גפר), and the Hebrew for “pitch”, ‘kafar’ (כָּפַר), is noticeable and significant, to the point that some commentators suggest that the species of wood is not what’s indicated here, but only the fact that the wood was “covered”, “pitched”, or “laminated” with something sticky, inside and out, to protect it from the flood waters.
But now, the spiritual point: The word for “pitch”, (כָּפַר) also means, “to cover, to cancel, to atone”. The same root is used when speaking of the mercy seat on the Ark of the Covenant in the Holy of Holies, ‘kaporet’ (כפרת), where the blood was to be applied. The word for ‘atonement’ or ‘ransom’ is the word, ‘kapara’ (כפרה). It’s the same word that’s used for the Biblical feast of the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippurim. (יום הכפורים), the day when Israel’s sins were atoned by the scapegoat. So, whatever “gofer” or “kafar” were in the construction of the Ark, their similar sound and meaning point to a “covering,” a source of protection from the flood, which, of course, was the sole purpose of Noah’s Ark. But they also point to this other “covering,” the “atonement” which covers sins, a reference to the “Lamb of God”…
So, that vessel, Noah’s Ark, is a type, a prophetic reference to Yeshua, our “Ark of Salvation” and His atoning (covering) work on the cross. He was our ‘kapparah’, our atonement, the Lamb who covered our sins. There is no storm, no flood, no catastrophe that can nullify Yeshua’s salvation; if your faith in Him is genuine, your sins, you yourself, are “covered”…. through the “Perfect Storm”, in the days of “Days of Noah”, whatever.
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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.