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]In the age of social media, where hot takes go viral, outrage spreads in seconds, and comment sections become battlegrounds, James offers a divine pattern that stands in stark contrast to the digital frenzy. His instruction is timeless but urgently needed today: be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger. These three commands — revolutionary yet straightforward — cut through the noise of our reaction-driven culture and call us to a Spirit-led posture in a screen-lit world.
In Matthew 21, Yeshua (Jesus) approached a fig tree full of leaves but found no fruit. He cursed it, and it withered. This dramatic act was not about the tree—it was about Israel. The fig tree had the appearance of life, but it lacked the substance of transformation. It was a warning to a nation full of religion but void of repentance. The tree became a symbol of spiritual barrenness, of form without fruit.
The parable of the fig tree is not just a message to observers — it’s a summons to the faithful. The fig tree puts out its leaves first, then comes the fruit. Spiritually, that’s a call to live in readiness even before the final harvest arrives. Yeshua (Jesus) tells His disciples, “Be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect” (Matthew 24:44).
Among all fruit-bearing trees, the fig tree is uniquely prophetic–because it is one of the few that produces two harvests in a single growing season. First comes the early crop in spring, known in Scripture as the “first ripe fig” (Isaiah 28:4), and then a second, more abundant harvest in late summer or early fall. This uncommon pattern is a living picture of prophecy woven into the fabric of creation.
Yeshua (Jesus) didn’t merely offer a suggestion–He issued a command: “Learn the parable.” In Greek, the word manthano (μανθάνω) implies disciplined learning, not casual observation. In Hebraic thought, to “learn” a parable means to press into its hidden meaning until it transforms how you live. The fig tree is not just a poetic image–it’s a prophetic mandate. And Yeshua expected His disciples, including us, to understand it deeply.
Yeshua (Jesus) used the fig tree—a familiar symbol in Israel’s botanical and prophetic world—as a teaching tool to awaken spiritual discernment. The fig tree, known for losing all its leaves in winter and budding again in spring, became a natural signpost to mark the changing seasons. In the same way, Jesus gave His disciples prophetic markers to discern a coming shift: wars, famines, false messiahs, persecution, lawlessness, and the global preaching of the gospel (Matthew 24:4–14).
On July 4th, America remembers a bold declaration — a break from tyranny, a longing for a better government, and the birth of a nation built on liberty. The Founders risked everything to establish a new way of life, one where freedom could flourish. Their cry was clear: “We will no longer be ruled by kings who oppress–we will be governed by laws that reflect liberty and justice.”