Psalms 118:14-16 The LORD is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation. 15 Glad songs of salvation are in the tents of the righteous: “The right hand of the LORD does valiantly, 16 the right hand of the LORD exalts, the right hand of the LORD does valiantly!”
Isaiah 12:2-3 “Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid; for the LORD GOD is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation.” 3 With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.
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.
Isaiah 12 picks up where Psalm 118 leaves off, repeating that same triumphant cry: “the LORD, is my strength and song; He also has become my salvation.” But then it adds something profoundly spiritual: “Therefore with joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.” These wells are not shallow. They were dug in eternity past and opened at the cross. And the joy we draw with is not emotional hype — it is the deep gladness of a soul that knows the Source. The same Yeshua who brings salvation now invites you to draw daily from His endless supply.
During Sukkot, the Feast of Tabernacles, the priests would pour water from the Pool of Siloam upon the altar with joy and dancing. Psalm 118:14 was sung aloud as crowds celebrated God’s provision. And on the final day of that feast — Hoshana Rabbah — Yeshua Himself stood in the Temple and declared, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink!” (John 7:37). It was more than a dramatic moment — it was a fulfillment. He is the salvation Isaiah had prophesied, and Psalm 118 had celebrated.
So now, the call is clear. You’re not just meant to survive in the wilderness — you’re meant to draw joyfully. You’re not called to wander parched — you’re called to drink deeply. The same strength that stood firm yesterday, the same song that rose from battle, is now calling you to a well that never runs dry. This is a lifestyle of praise and drawing. Rejoicing isn’t a response to circumstances — it’s a result of connection. And when you drink from Yeshua, living waters will flow not just into you but from you (John 7:38).
Now that the prophetic anthem has taken root—“The Lord is my strength and my song”—it’s time to go deeper. It’s time to come to the well. Don’t settle for yesterday’s echo—encounter the living source today. Let joy awaken as you draw from the depths of His salvation. Stir the waters of your spirit. Lift your voice and proclaim with courage: “Behold, God is my salvation!”
If you’re weary — draw. If you’re parched — draw. If you’re down and out –draw. Yeshua is not only the melody of your past victory — He is the fountain of your present power. Drink until rivers surge from within. Praise until walls tremble. Rejoice until the heavens break open over your home. Your Redeemer lives—and the ancient wells are open. Come thirsty… and leave overflowing.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.
In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.
Tonight we’ll participate in the Independence Day celebration in Israel — and what a party! — shows, fireworks, music, dancing, everything under the sun!
Yesterday, Israel observed Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Remembrance Day—honoring the memory of the six million Jews who perished. Tragically, a recent poll reveals that nearly half of Israelis fear the possibility of another Holocaust. In light of this sobering reality, I want to share a powerful story of one remarkable woman who rescued 2,500 Jewish children from the ghettos during World War II.
One night a house caught fire and a young boy was forced to flee flames by jumping to the ground from the roof. His father stood on the ground below with outstretched arms, calling to his son, “Jump! I’ll catch you.” But the boy was afraid — he couldn’t see his father — all he could see was flame, smoke, and blackness. He was afraid. Still, his father kept yelling: “Jump son! I will catch you!” But the boy refused, crying, “Daddy, I can’t see you!” His father replied, “It’s ok son — I can see you — and that’s all that matters!”
After forty years of wandering in the wilderness, Israel finally crossed into the Promised Land—on the 10th day of Nissan, the very day they had been commanded to choose their Passover lamb [Exodus 12:3 , Joshua 4:19]. They couldn’t enter into their inheritance until a lamb was chosen—a powerful foreshadowing of the more excellent Lamb to come, in preparation for the Passover [Joshua 5:10], they were about to observe at Gilgal.
In the days of Yeshua (Jesus), the cross was an instrument of death, and crucifixion, a horrible method of torture. Over the next 200 years, in light of the Lord’s resurrection, the cross became identified with Christian faith and was transformed into a symbol of life and hope. Yeshua was able to turn it upside down, transforming an instrument of death into a symbol of life.