Hebrews 12:1-2 Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
Last night, we concluded the feast of Yom Kippur where Jews throughout the world “afflicted” their souls. However, most kids in Israel look at Yom Kippur as “ride your bikes in the streets day!” You see, Yom Kippur in Israel is the one day when TV and radio stations are completely shut down and the streets are almost completely void of vehicles of any kind. Ironically, some of the only fully operational locations in Israel on Yom Kippur are the hospital emergency rooms – since kids who finally have no restraints on their bikes, skateboards, and roller skates tend to take risks they wouldn’t normally take – it’s Yom Kippur – they have the streets to themselves!
These two “sides” of Yom Kippur in Israel reflect our experience as believers. Our identification with Yeshua (Jesus) promises a certain degree of affliction in our lives, that we share in the fellowship of His sufferings. Yet we are also like children who can revel in and enjoy the freedom that His sacrifice has brought us into. This is the paradox of our life of faith, and something we can embrace fully by the grace of God.
Knowing and following Yeshua is a life of suffering and great joy, even revelry. Which ever side of the “fence” you’re on at the moment, you can be thankful that, because your sins are forgiven, the end of the matter will be better than the beginning. So, count it all joy when you meet with trials….and rejoice in the Lord always…forgiveness of sins is your passport to Eternal Life.
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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!”