1 Kings 17:2-6 And the word of the LORD came to him: 3 “Depart from here and turn eastward and hide yourself by the brook Cherith, which is east of the Jordan. 4 You shall drink from the brook, and I have commanded the ravens to feed you there.” 5 So he went and did according to the word of the LORD. He went and lived by the brook Cherith that is east of the Jordan. 6 And the ravens brought him bread and meat in the morning, and bread and meat in the evening, and he drank from the brook.
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.
So it is with us. We are often too eager, too confident in our own strength, too certain of our usefulness. But in His wisdom, God leads us to our own Cheriths–hidden places where we learn to trust Him afresh.
Shabbat is our Cherith, week after week–not just a pause from labor, but a posture of the soul that says, “I trust You.” It is God’s invitation: “Cease striving. Rest by the brook. Let Me supply your need.” Like Elijah, we cannot stand on Carmel in victory until we have first knelt at Cherith in surrender.
Even at Cherith, the brook dried up. Day after day, Elijah watched the stream diminish until the final drop was gone. But God had not forsaken him. The drying brook taught Elijah to trust–not in the gift, but in the Giver. It revealed a more profound truth: when one source runs dry, God opens another.
So it is with us. We, too, find ourselves beside drying brooks–when health fades, resources run low, friendships waver, or doors of opportunity close. In those moments, God invites us into deeper rest, into stillness of soul, into unwavering trust. “My soul, wait silently for God alone, for my hope is from Him” (Psalm 62:5). His living water never fails. His grace flows, undiminished by the thirst of generations, unwearied through the ages. The promises of Yeshua (Jesus) remain true, especially in our Cherith moments: “Whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst.” (John 4:14).
If you find yourself beside a drying brook—take heart! God has not forgotten you. This is not the end. Beyond Cherith lies Zarephath. Beyond this wilderness, fresh provision, new purpose, and greater power await. Hear His voice above the silence: Rest in Me. Trust in Me.
Shabbat is His gift—a holy invitation to be renewed, strengthened, and refreshed. Like Elijah at Cherith, hide yourself in Him. Trust His miraculous provision, even when it comes in ways you never expected—as when ravens fed the prophet in his secret refuge. The God who sustained Elijah will sustain you. His grace still flows. His living water has not run dry.
Now is the time to be refreshed and renewed—for Cherith and Zarephath were God’s training ground for triumph on Carmel, where the prophets of Baal were crushed and a nation was turned back to God. But it all began with Elijah first learning the lessons of surrender and trust at Cherith!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Psalm 98 is a victory psalm — a call to lift up a “new song” because the Z’roah, the holy arm of the LORD, has brought decisive triumph. In Hebrew thought, the arm is the active extension of the will, the power that brings intention into reality. To call it “holy” is to declare that it is set apart, dedicated fully to God’s purpose, incapable of corruption. The psalmist celebrates that salvation is not a hidden act, but an open demonstration — God’s righteousness revealed before the eyes of the nations.
This is one of the most intimate revelations of the Z’roah in Scripture. God looks for a human intercessor but finds none. No man can bridge the gap. So His own Arm accomplishes the work. In Hebrew, v’tosha lo zeroa — “His arm saved for Him” — reveals that salvation originates from within God Himself, not from any outside help. Isaiah adds that His own righteousness sustained Him — it upheld His resolve to save — and His fury upheld Him, a holy passion that would not rest until justice was accomplished.
To “bare” the arm means to roll up the sleeve and reveal the full readiness for action. In Isaiah’s prophecy, this is a global unveiling — no longer hidden, the Z’roah is on display for all nations to witness. This speaks directly of Yeshua’s (Jesus’) public ministry and, ultimately, His crucifixion.
The Hebrew phrase “z’roah moshel lo” paints the picture of an arm that governs with both strength and care. The same Z’roah that brought Israel out of Egypt in power now establishes righteous order and sustains His people in love. Deliverance without rulership is incomplete; the Redeemer becomes the King — and the King rules as a Shepherd. The Arm does not act independently but moves in perfect submission to the Head, carrying out the will of the Father.
I’ll be doing a series on the “Arm of God,” beginning with this first message — The Arm that Redeems. The Hebrew Z’roah (זְרוֹעַ) means “arm” or “strength,” and in ancient Hebrew culture, the arm symbolizes active power in motion — strength applied for a purpose. In the Exodus account, God tells Moses He will redeem Israel “with an outstretched arm” (bizroa netuyah). This was not poetic metaphor; it was God’s declaration of decisive intervention. The Z’roah is the covenant-keeping arm that moves history, enforces promises, and breaks oppression. Every Pesach (Passover), during the seder — the festive meal of remembrance — the roasted lamb shank bone, the Z’roah, rests on the plate as a silent yet powerful witness to God’s mighty deliverance.
These closing verses of Psalm 118 begin with an unshakable proclamation: “The LORD is God.” In Hebrew, it’s emphatic — YHVH, He is El — the declaration that all authority, holiness, and sovereignty belong to Him alone. Yet this is not just a statement of who He is — it’s a testimony of what He has done: “He has made His light to shine upon us.” This light is more than the glow of the sun — it is the revelation of His presence, the warmth of His favor, and the piercing truth that chases away every shadow. His light doesn’t simply illuminate — it transforms.
Psalm 118:24 is not merely about enjoying a new day — it is a prophetic declaration of a divinely appointed moment. “This is the day the LORD has made” speaks of a kairos moment in history when heaven and earth converge. It points to the day when Messiah would be revealed, salvation would walk into Jerusalem, and God’s covenant plan would take a dramatic step forward. This is not the casual celebration of a sunrise — it is the joyful response to God’s redemptive unfolding.