Psalms 42:1-2 As the deer pants for the water brooks, So pants my soul for You, O God. 2 My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God?
Deuteronomy 10:20 You shall fear the LORD your God; you shall serve Him, and to Him you shall cling, and swear by His name.
Following Yeshua (Jesus) isn’t just about believing the right things or checking boxes. It’s about wanting to truly know God — to experience Him personally. And here’s the amazing part: even that desire starts with Him. God is the one who stirs our hearts and awakens our longing. If you find yourself hungry for more of Him, it’s because He’s already working in you.
Yeshua said, “No one can come to Me unless the Father draws him” (John 6:44). Even as we run after God, we’re being held by His hand (Psalm 63:8). It’s a mystery — but a beautiful one. He moves first, and we respond.
But we must respond. Faith isn’t passive. Like Moses, who dared to pray, “Show me Your glory” (Exodus 33:18), or Paul, who cried out, “That I may know Him” (Philippians 3:10), we are called to pursue God with a burning desire. Salvation isn’t the finish line — it’s the starting point of a lifelong pursuit.
In Hebraic thought, this pursuit is deeply connected to the Hebrew concept of דְּבֵקוּת (Devekut), which means clinging or cleaving to God.
Devekut isn’t just about obeying God; it’s about being near Him, staying close to His presence. It’s the soul’s longing to walk in daily communion with the living God. As it says in Deuteronomy 10:20, “You shall fear the LORD your God; you shall serve Him and cling to Him (וּבוֹ תִדְבָּק).”
Our pursuit of God is made possible through Yeshua the Messiah, who declared, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). He is the living path into the Father’s presence, and through Him, the longing for devekut — deep, abiding closeness with God — is not fulfilled in a single moment, but in a lifelong, growing relationship.
Let’s never be satisfied with where we are. The saints of old weren’t content with surface-level faith — David cried out for God, and Paul gave up everything to know Him more. Why should our experience be any different? It’s time to strip away the clutter, silence the distractions, and abandon the “God and…” mentality. Let’s return to the simplicity of seeking Him alone. Even a single, honest word — “God” or “Love” — whispered from a longing heart can open the door to His presence.
This is the kingdom’s paradox of love: to have found God and still long for more of Him. Let that holy hunger define your faith. Let it drive you deeper, pull you closer, and draw you into the joy of knowing not just about Him, but knowing Him. In the end, you won’t just find peace — you’ll cling to the One your soul was made to love.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Yeshua (Jesus) didn’t merely offer a suggestion–He issued a command: “Learn the parable.” In Greek, the word manthano (μανθάνω) implies disciplined learning, not casual observation. In Hebraic thought, to “learn” a parable means to press into its hidden meaning until it transforms how you live. The fig tree is not just a poetic image–it’s a prophetic mandate. And Yeshua expected His disciples, including us, to understand it deeply.
On July 4th, America remembers a bold declaration — a break from tyranny, a longing for a better government, and the birth of a nation built on liberty. The Founders risked everything to establish a new way of life, one where freedom could flourish. Their cry was clear: “We will no longer be ruled by kings who oppress–we will be governed by laws that reflect liberty and justice.”
In a world full of uncertainty, this verse from Romans stands like a lighthouse in the storm: “The God of hope…” Not just the God who gives hope, but the very source of it. When everything around us seems shaken — economies falter, nations rage, relationships strain — it is the God of hope who remains unshaken and unchanging.
When Yeshua (Jesus) spoke these words not only to the seventy He sent ahead of Him, but to every disciple who follows Him into the world, it’s a striking picture: fields overflowing with a harvest, ready to be gathered. The problem isn’t the readiness of the harvest — it’s the shortage of workers willing to go.
This piercing question opens Psalm 11 like a cry from the heart in troubled times. It’s a question we ask when law and order collapse, when truth is ridiculed, and when those who do evil seem to triumph. The foundations — the principles of righteousness, justice, and truth that uphold society — are under siege. And it begs the question: What can God’s people do when everything righteous seems to be crumbling?
After one of the greatest spiritual victories in all of Scripture–calling down fire from heaven on Mount Carmel and turning the hearts of Israel back to God–Elijah finds himself blindsided by fear.
Elijah heard what no one else did — a storm was coming. Though the sky was still blue and the ground still cracked from years of drought, Elijah discerned the sound of abundance. It was a prophetic knowing, a spiritual sensitivity that saw past what was visible into what God was about to do.