2 Timothy 1:7 For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
A major earthquake struck Taiwan over the weekend, which triggered a tsunami warning as far away as Japan.
This reminded me of when we first moved to Israel in 2003.
I was in my Hebrew class downtown, and my wife and one-month-old baby were alone in our Jerusalem apartment. My wife called me immediately, and this is what she told me; I'll never forget it.
She was sitting in our bedroom with our 1-month-old in her arms when out of nowhere came a sudden loud roaring sound, followed by a shaking of all four walls and all the contents within banging back and forth against them rapidly and with great force. So many things were going through her mind at that moment as she tried to remember what you're supposed to do in a scenario like this. Are you supposed to get under the bed? Or maybe get outside? Yeah, outside! But it would be three flights of steps to get outside, and with a newborn baby in her arms -- how?! She just froze in fright, thinking about what could happen next. But in the midst of it all, Riv looked down at Elianna in her arms. Would you believe she was perfectly content -- happy, smiling, even drifting off to sleep as the whole earth shook all around her. Wow.
Each of us can take a lesson from Elianna. Even in the midst of all the chaos, distress, or crises beyond our control, we must rest, trusting that we're safe in the loving arms of the Father. We shouldn't have a care in the world.
Is your world being shaken right now? Know that God is holding you today. No matter what you're facing, you can trust Him to cover you. Just lay back and enjoy the ride!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.