James 5:17 Elijah was a man with a nature like ours, and he prayed earnestly that it would not rain; and it did not rain on the land for three years and six months.
As we continue our journey through the life of Elijah, let us take heart in this: Elijah was a man just like us. He was not born with heroic strength or unshakable resolve. He knew weakness, fear, and moments of failure—the same struggles we face. And yet, this one man, by faith, stood alone against a tide of sin and idolatry. By faith, he turned a nation back to God.
This is what makes Elijah’s story so captivating. He did not rely on some hidden, mystical power that is beyond our reach. Nor was he made of stronger stuff than the rest of us. If that were true, his story would discourage us — a model we could never follow, an ideal forever beyond our grasp. But no! Elijah was, in himself, a man just like us. It was faith in God that made him a pillar of strength, a torch that burned brightly for truth. And the same faith is available to you and me today.
All power belongs to God, and He longs to pour His Resurrection power in and through us. The Holy Spirit channels that power into our lives in proportion to our faith and our readiness to receive it. Oh, that we would have hearts as open as Elijah’s—willing to be filled, willing to believe, willing to act!
But know this: before Elijah stood in boldness on Mount Carmel, he first had to be shaped by God at Cherith and refined at Zarephath. So it will be for us. God invites us into His school of faith — a place where our trust is deepened, our self-reliance is broken, and His strength is made perfect in our weakness. Only then can we be ready to do great exploits for God and truth.
Let Elijah’s life remind us that God is not looking for heroes made of stronger clay — He is seeking men and women who simply believe. The same power that turned a nation back to God through Elijah is available to us today. We do not need greater strength; we need greater faith. We do not need more ability; we need more surrender. The God who worked through Elijah stands ready to work through you. Will you let Him? Let this be our prayer: “Lord, take my weakness and fill it with Your power. Shape me, teach me, and use me, that I may stand for You in this generation as Elijah did in his.”
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]When we read the promises of God, we must read them the way we ourselves want to be heard—in full context. Just as we expect others to understand our words in light of what we’ve said before, God expects us to interpret His promises in light of all He has revealed in His Word.
A few days ago, I shared a quote from B.J. Willhite, and today I want to delve deeper into his powerful insight. He wrote, “The law of prayer is the highest law of the universe—it can overcome the other laws by sanctioning God’s intervention. When implemented properly, the law of prayer permits God to exercise His sovereignty in a world under the dominion of a rebel with free will, in a universe governed by natural law.”
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!”