Matthew 21:9 And the multitudes that went before, and that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna to the Son of David: Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord; Hosanna in the highest.
As thousands of believers around the world will celebrate Palm Sunday, I thought I’d offer some additional historical insight into the day Yeshua (Jesus) entered Jerusalem. Most people associate Palm Sunday with the fulfillment of Zechariah 9:9, “Behold, thy King cometh unto thee: he is just, and having salvation; lowly, and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass”. But there is another significant detail associated with this beautiful fulfillment…
…it is that Yeshua entered Jerusalem on precisely the same day that the Jews would have been choosing their Passover lambs in preparation for the Pesach (Passover) Seder a few days later. Unbeknownst to them, the Lord had chosen their “Passover Lamb” who would deliver them, and the entire world from their sins [John 1:29].
As Yeshua entered into Jerusalem, the people cried “Hosanna, Son of David– which means, “Save Now, Son of David!”- quoting the cry of the psalmist for the salvation of YHVH to come to Israel; [Psalm 118:25-26]. This psalm was associated with the coming of Messiah, and the title, “Son of David” was a common reference to Him, the one who would bring YHVH’s salvation. It also contains the words, “Blessed is He that comes in the name of the Lord!” So many of the people knew who He was, yet…
…this same Psalm also contains an amazing prediction: “The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone!” [Psalm 118:22]. Right there, in the same scripture, only a few verses apart, the astounding irony of Yeshua’s first advent is perfectly expressed. Received and hailed as Israel’s Messiah, He was shortly to be scorned, rejected and crucified.
This is a week to remember the humility of Yeshua, the most humble King who ever lived or died. Our love for Him grows deeper as we reflect on this gentle Shepherd’s submission, even though He was and is a King. His rejection was our acceptance. His death was our life. May we receive the grace to follow His example and so reveal His glory.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
King David wrote these words generations before the empty tomb shook the foundations of death. At first glance, Psalm 16 reads like a personal prayer of trust — a yearning for security and closeness with God. But beneath the surface, the Spirit was revealing something deeper, something eternal: a promise not just for David, but for all of us.