Hebrews 10:19-22 Therefore, brothers, having boldness to enter into the Holy of Holies by the blood of Jesus, 20 by a new and living way which He has consecrated for us through the veil, that is to say, His flesh; 21 and having a High Priest over the house of God, 22 let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience and our bodies having been washed with pure water.
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.
But now, the veil has been torn.
When Yeshua (Jesus) died, the veil in the Temple that once separated the Holy Place from the Holy of Holies was ripped from top to bottom–heaven’s own declaration that the way into God’s intimate Presence had been opened. The blood of Yeshua didn’t merely forgive us; it opened a door. Not just to salvation, but to intimacy.
We are not invited to stand in the outer courts, content with distance and ritual. We are summoned into the very heart of the throne room. Into the Holiest. Into the place where God dwells in glory. Into a communion deeper than words, where His love fills every crevice of our being and His whisper becomes our life.
This is not a metaphor. It is a reality. The torn veil is not just a symbol–it is a passage. A blood-stained trail that leads into the very arms of the Father. And it calls for boldness. Not arrogance, but a confidence grounded in Yeshua’s finished work. His blood has made the way. There is nothing left to earn. Nothing left to prove. Only one thing is required: come.
Yet many remain outside–not because God holds us back, but because we have not yet surrendered our inner veils. Pride, fear, shame, self–these are type of veils that must be torn. But the Spirit is ready to do the tearing. He waits for our surrender. For the heart that says, “Whatever it takes, I want to know Him.” And when that veil is removed, the soul enters a realm not of theory but of encounter.
Intimacy with God is not a privilege for the spiritual elite—it is the birthright of every soul redeemed by the blood of Yeshua. To draw near is not striving for favor, but surrendering to love. The veil is no more. The way is open. And the Father waits — not with judgment, but with joy — to welcome you into the fullness of His embrace.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Elul is unlike any other month. As we mentioned yesterday, it is the 12th month on the civil calendar and the 6th on the prophetic calendar. This dual position gives Elul a unique character — it both closes a cycle and prepares for a new one. That is why the shofar sounds each day during Elul: it is a wake-up call, reminding us to reflect, repent, and return to the Lord before the great and awesome days of the Fall Feasts.
This begins a very special season on God’s calendar — the month of preparation before the Fall Feasts. The month of Elul is unique: it is the 12th month on the civil calendar and the 6th month on the prophetic/biblical calendar. Each day of Elul is marked by the blowing of the shofar, a trumpet call that awakens the soul. These daily blasts prepare our hearts for Yom Teruah (the Feast of Trumpets, Rosh Hashanah) and ultimately for Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement).
We have come to the final meditation in this journey through the Z’roah, the Arm of the LORD. From the Arm that redeemed Israel out of Egypt, to the Arm that pierced the dragon, to the Arm that is coming with reward — all of these revelations lead us here: the Arm that brings His people into rest.
Isaiah’s vision looks ahead — not only to the Arm of the LORD revealed in the Exodus or even in the cross, but to the day when that same Arm will come again in glory. This is not a picture of brute force but of purposeful arrival. The Z’roah — the Arm of the LORD — comes clothed with strength to establish His rule, and He does not come empty-handed. His reward is with Him, and His work is before Him. The promise is sure: He is coming, and He is rewarding.
Isaiah recalls the Exodus as the supreme display of God’s Z’roah, His Arm of glory. Though the people saw Moses raise his staff over the Red Sea, it was not Moses’ power that split the waters. Behind the prophet’s hand was the Arm of the LORD — majestic, glorious, and unstoppable. The sea parted not to honor Moses, but to exalt the Name of the God who sent him. The Red Sea became a stage for God to reveal His glory, so that His Name would echo through generations as the Deliverer of His people.
Jeremiah uttered these words when everything around him looked hopeless. Babylon’s armies surrounded Jerusalem, the city was on the brink of destruction, and yet God told Jeremiah to buy a field as a prophetic sign that restoration would come. The prophet responded in awe: the God who created the heavens and the earth by His outstretched arm (bizroa netuyah) is not bound by human circumstances. The same God who set galaxies in place and boundaries for the seas is the God who still moves to redeem His people. Truly, nothing is too hard for Him.
Isaiah’s words summon one of the most dramatic images of God’s saving power: the Z’roah — the Arm of the LORD — cutting Rahab in pieces and piercing the dragon.
Here, Rahab is not the woman of Jericho but a poetic name for Egypt (Psalm 87:4), often symbolizing arrogant nations and the dark spiritual powers behind them. In Hebrew poetry, Rahab also evokes the sea monster of chaos, a stand-in for the forces that oppose God’s order. To say the Arm “cut Rahab in pieces” is to recall how God shattered Egypt’s pride and broke the grip of the powers that enslaved His people.