Revelation 7:9-10 After this I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands; And cried with a loud voice, saying, Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb.
Have you ever heard how the Karen people of Burma were prepared for the gospel? This unique people’s history reveals how the Lord had sovereignly preserved, in their traditions, their yearning for the one true God.
For centuries, the Karen people rejected the teachings of Buddhism and spiritism and clung to their ancient understanding of the true God, whom they called “Y’wa”, suggesting the influence of the Hebrew, “Yahweh”. Karen traditions also point to Adam and Eve and their fall, in the garden of Eden. According to the tradition, because of transgressions, they fell from grace. An ancient poem powerfully expresses their hope and expectation of redemption:
“O children and grandchildren! If we repent of our sins, and cease to do evil–restraining our passions–and pray to Y’wa, he will have mercy on us again. If Y’wa does not have mercy on us, there is no other one who can. He who saves us is the only one – Y’wa.”
Their stories relate how they negligently lost the ancient books of Y’wa, and were now anxiously awaiting the “white men”, who would restore the ancient books to them.
Another Karen poem is virtually “prophetic”:
“The sons of Y’wa, the white foreigners, obtained the words of Y’wa. The white foreigners, the children of Y’wa, obtained the words of Y’wa anciently.”
In the late 1800’s Christian missionaries arrived in Burma bringing the gospel of Jesus. Their message was overwhelmingly received! Today a majority of the Karen people are believers, because God had prepared their hearts to receive the message over hundreds of years. The Karen waited expectantly for the “white man’s” message of redemption from “Y’wa”, and “Y’wa” proved faithful to reach and redeem these Burmese tribes, in His time.
As we continue to share the good news, let’s remember that the Lord initiates the work of redemption — and that we need to stay focused on the job at hand, and continue to labor in the harvest fields. The seed we’ve planted in patience, will soon bear fruit; so let us not grow weary in well doing, for we shall reap if we faint not!
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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.