Jeremiah 45:5 And do you seek great things for yourself? Do not seek them; for behold, I will bring adversity on all flesh," says the Lord. "But I will give your life to you as a prize in all places, wherever you go."
J. Oswald Sanders, a Godly man and former director of Overseas Missionary Fellowship, once wrote about a desired position. As he contemplated lobbying for the position, at one point, while walking through the city of Auckland, New Zealand, a verse of Scripture came to his mind, "Seekest thou great things for thyself? Seek them not!"
Sanders later said, "The words came just as though it was God speaking. There were crowds all around me, and no one else heard the voice, but I heard it all right!" He said, "I believe that was a real turning point in my service to the Lord." As a result, he never sought the position, but later it was opened for him, in God's timing.
The world's standards of greatness -- money, success, power, and fame -- mean nothing to God. We will learn from Jesus' example if we truly aspire to greatness. He didn't exemplify His greatness by conquest, riches, or worldly success – but rather by humility, gentleness, and servanthood.
If we truly want to be great in God's kingdom, we will decide to transform worldly "ambition" into "Godly ambition." We will not seek honor but humility. We won't desire power to rule but to become the greatest servant. Beyond everything, we will long to be great in His love…and through His love, influence and transform the world around us. These are "ambitions" worthy of our Lord and Savior, who, because of His great love and humility, was exalted above every other name and promised that He will humble the exalted...and exalt the humble.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]When the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years, they traversed a rugged, unpredictable landscape — mile after mile of mountains, valleys, rocks, and desert sands — as they journeyed from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land.
For many, God remains a theory—an idea borrowed from tradition, deduced from the cosmos, or tucked quietly into the corners of a creed. He is believed in from afar, but is rarely encountered. Even among believers, it’s not uncommon to live with a distant reverence for God while lacking a vibrant, personal communion with Him.
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.