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!
Copyright 1999-2025 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
How to display the above article within the Worthy Suite WordPress Plugin.
[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]In the Hebraic understanding, a name isn’t just a label—it reveals essence, identity, and destiny. Isaiah doesn’t say these are merely descriptions of the Messiah; he says His Name shall be called — meaning this is who He is. When we declare these names, we are not offering poetic praise — we are calling upon real attributes of the living King. In just one verse, the prophet unveils the depth of Messiah’s personhood, showing us that this child is no ordinary child. He is the fulfillment of heaven’s promise and the revelation of God’s nature.
In a world wearied by the failures of men, Isaiah 9:6 offers a startling promise of hope and strength: “The government shall be upon His shoulder.” This is not the language of politics as we know it — it’s the language of divine dominion. The Hebrew word for “government” here is misrah (מִשְׂרָה), a word so unique it appears only in these two verses—Isaiah 9:6 and 9:7. Unlike more common Hebrew words for government — mamlachah or memshalah, misrah speaks of a rare and elevated rule—divinely ordained, gentle in character, and eternal in scope. This is a government not imposed, but carried. Not tyrannical, but righteous and restorative.
The prophet Isaiah begins with language so familiar that it’s often read too quickly. Yet within this brief phrase lies a depth of mystery and majesty that anchors the entire gospel. “For unto us a Child is born” speaks of an earthly event–Messiah’s humanity. He was born as all men are born, taking on flesh, entering a specific culture, time, and lineage. The Hebrew word for “born” (yalad) reinforces His full identification with us. This is the miracle of the incarnation: God wrapped in the vulnerability of a newborn child.
When the Lord called us to be His ambassadors, He didn’t merely give us a message — He gave us a lifestyle to embody it. An ambassador is not just a messenger, but a living representation of the Kingdom they serve. That means our behavior, words, and example all matter deeply.
As ambassadors of Christ, we don’t just represent His Kingdom–we reflect His heart. Paul’s words in Colossians 4:5-6 are not just good advice; they’re a commissioning. We are called to walk wisely among those who do not yet know Christ, recognizing that every interaction is a divine opportunity.
“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 in Yeshua, arms stretched wide in love, calling us home.
In the age of social media, where hot takes go viral, outrage spreads in seconds, and comment sections become battlegrounds, James offers a divine pattern that stands in stark contrast to the digital frenzy. His instruction is timeless but urgently needed today: be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger. These three commands — revolutionary yet straightforward — cut through the noise of our reaction-driven culture and call us to a Spirit-led posture in a screen-lit world.