Isaiah 9:6-7 For unto us a Child is born, Unto us a Son is given; And the government will be upon His shoulder. And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 7 Of the increase of His government and peace There will be no end, Upon the throne of David and over His kingdom, To order it and establish it with judgment and justice From that time forward, even forever. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this.
The Hebrew letter mem, equivalent to our English letter “M,” has a fascinating characteristic: it has two forms. The “open mem” appears at the beginning or middle of a word, with a small opening in its design. The “closed mem,” however, is used exclusively as the final letter in a word, fully sealed in its appearance. This distinction is consistent throughout the Hebrew language—except for one extraordinary exception found in the Bible.
In Isaiah 9:6-7, we find this exception within the word l’marbeh, which means “to the increase.” Normally, the word would have with an open mem, but here, a closed mem is used instead. This unique occurrence appears in Isaiah’s prophecy about the Messiah: “Of the increase of His government and peace there will be no end…” The closed mem is a deliberate anomaly, drawing attention to this passage and pointing to a deeper truth about the Messiah.
Rabbinic tradition connects the letter mem to the womb. An open mem symbolizes a womb that is ready to give birth, while a closed mem represents a sealed womb. This detail in Isaiah’s prophecy aligns perfectly with the earlier prophecy in Isaiah 7:14: “Behold, a virgin will be with child and bear a son, and she will call His name Immanuel [God with us].” The closed mem in l’marbeh hints at the miraculous virgin birth of the Messiah, whose arrival would defy natural understanding.
This small, yet profound detail in the Hebrew text reminds us that God’s Word is intricately woven with meaning. The Messiah’s birth was no ordinary event; it was a miraculous act of God’s divine plan to bring salvation to the world. As we reflect on this, let’s marvel at the richness of God’s Word and His perfect design, which points us to the glory and majesty of Yeshua (Jesus), the promised Savior.
No matter how impossible your situation may seem, remember this: Yeshua, the Messiah, is the ultimate Breaker. He broke forth from the closed womb to fulfill God’s plan, and He broke free from the tomb to give us victory over sin and death. He tore down every barrier that once separated us from God and from one another. If you’re feeling stuck, trapped, or in need of a breakthrough, take heart! The same Messiah who opened the way for all of humanity can bring freedom and hope to your life. Trust Him to make a way where there seems to be no way—He’s the God of breakthroughs!
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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.