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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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.
Last night marked the beginning of Shavuot–a feast that many Christians recognize as Pentecost, the day the Holy Spirit was poured out in Acts 2. But the roots of Shavuot stretch back much further. Long before that upper room encounter–about 1,500 years earlier–Shavuot was the day God gave the law to Moses on Mount Sinai, writing His commandments on tablets of stone.
In a world trembling with uncertainty–political unrest, economic turmoil, natural disasters–God is speaking again. Not in whispers, but with the shaking that reorders lives, redefines kingdoms, and removes everything that cannot stand in the presence of His glory. He is preparing us for a kingdom that cannot be moved. But in the midst of the shaking, there is rest — a deep, unshakable rest reserved for the people of God. Not rest as the world gives — temporary relief or distraction — but the kind that anchors the soul in the storm, the kind that is rooted in Yeshua (Jesus), our rest.