Matthew 18:3 and said, "Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven.
Hebrew is the only language in the world that was completely dead as an everyday tongue and then resurrected to become a living language after thousands of years. The "Father" of modern Hebrew, Eliezer Ben-Yehuda, was devoted to restoring Hebrew for the Jewish people of our time when for centuries it was strictly a written language.
Ben-Yehuda knew that language fluency is best acquired in childhood, and thus raised his first-born son exclusively speaking Hebrew, convinced that he would become a living sign for its future revival as a living language. He believed by raising his child exclusively in Hebrew, that a national linguistic revival was possible! Ben-Yehuda's conviction and hard work inspired the usage and training of Israeli children in Hebrew at schools throughout Israel.
So it was that the children who were born in Israel and went to school, learned Hebrew first -- and since, of course, the adults didn't know Hebrew, it was the children who taught their parents.
There is a profound example in Ben-Yehuda's inspiring act of faith -- for as Yeshua said, "Unless you are changed and become like little children you cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven." If you want to speak the language of Heaven, you must learn it as a child would learn! Little children are open, receptive, hungry to learn, believing, humble, and lighthearted. According to Yeshua (Jesus), these qualities are necessary for entry into our Lord's realm.
They are also the qualities of mature saints, who, even as they grow in Him, never lose a childlike relationship with their Heavenly Father.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.”
In a world full of uncertainty, this verse from Romans stands like a lighthouse in the storm: “The God of hope…” Not just the God who gives hope, but the very source of it. When everything around us seems shaken — economies falter, nations rage, relationships strain — it is the God of hope who remains unshaken and unchanging.
When Yeshua (Jesus) spoke these words not only to the seventy He sent ahead of Him, but to every disciple who follows Him into the world, it’s a striking picture: fields overflowing with a harvest, ready to be gathered. The problem isn’t the readiness of the harvest — it’s the shortage of workers willing to go.
This piercing question opens Psalm 11 like a cry from the heart in troubled times. It’s a question we ask when law and order collapse, when truth is ridiculed, and when those who do evil seem to triumph. The foundations — the principles of righteousness, justice, and truth that uphold society — are under siege. And it begs the question: What can God’s people do when everything righteous seems to be crumbling?