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]When the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years, they traversed a rugged, unpredictable landscape — mile after mile of mountains, valleys, rocks, and desert sands — as they journeyed from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land.
For many, God remains a theory—an idea borrowed from tradition, deduced from the cosmos, or tucked quietly into the corners of a creed. He is believed in from afar, but is rarely encountered. Even among believers, it’s not uncommon to live with a distant reverence for God while lacking a vibrant, personal communion with Him.
God has always longed for intimacy with us. He formed us for Himself–to walk with Him, to know Him, to delight in His Presence. This is the very heartbeat of creation: relationship, not religion. Yet sin drove a wedge between us. A veil was drawn, shutting out the light of His face and placing distance where there was once communion.
A beachhead is the first critical objective in a military invasion–the spot where a force lands on enemy territory and secures a position for greater advancement. It’s the place of breakthrough. And it’s also the place of fiercest resistance.
David wrote Psalm 3 while running for his life — betrayed, heartbroken, and hunted by his own son, Absalom. The weight of rebellion wasn’t just political; it was personal. His household had turned against him. Friends became foes. Loyal hearts grew cold. The throne he once held was now surrounded by enemies, and the whispers grew louder: “There is no salvation for him in God.”
Psalm 2 is a divine announcement — a heavenly decree that demands the world’s attention. It begins with a question: “Why do the nations rage, and the peoples plot in vain?” (Ps. 2:1). The nations rise up, not against injustice or tyranny, but against the rule of God’s Meshiach (Messiah). That Anointed is Yeshua — the Son whom the Father has set on His holy hill in Zion (Ps. 2:6). The psalm strips away all pretense and exposes the heart of human rebellion: it is a refusal to be ruled by His Messiah.
Psalm 1 opens with a sobering warning about the quiet, deadly slide into sin. The man without God doesn’t become a scorner overnight — he drifts there gradually. First, he walks in ungodly counsel, entertaining worldly thoughts. Then, he stands in the path of sinners, embracing their way of life. Finally, he sits in the seat of the scornful, hardened in heart and mocking what is sacred. This progression — from a man without God to scorner — reveals how small compromises grow into full rebellion, dulling the conscience and deadening the soul.