Genesis 22:1 Now it came to pass after these things that God tested (Hebrew word len-a-sot, to try) Abraham, and said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.”
John 6:5-6 Then Jesus lifted up [His] eyes, and seeing a great multitude coming toward Him, He said to Philip, “Where shall we buy bread, that these may eat?” But this He said to test (Hebrew word, lenasot, to try) him, for He Himself knew what He would do.
James 1:2-4 My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials (nisayon (noun form of lenasot)), knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have [its] perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.
The testing of Abraham’s faith was repeated by YHVH throughout the patriarch’s entire life. The tests grew greater as his life advanced, and through everyone, whether Abraham passed or not, YHVH proved Himself to be his friend over and over again. Every test or “trial” involved a serious challenge or threat in which Abraham had to trust that the LORD knew what He was doing, asking, or requiring, and that His goodness and faithfulness were unquestionably reliable.
This type of testing or trying of faith is displayed throughout the Scriptures. In an entirely different setting, Yeshua (Jesus) asked His disciple Philip a question, “Where shall we buy bread, that these may eat?” The purpose of the question was simply to try Philip’s faith. The Hebrew, “lenasot” “to try, or test”, in the Greek is “pi-ras-mos”, which carries an interesting connotation: “proving by experiment”.
James, the Lord’s brother, speaks of the “testing of our faith”, as well. Though we often think of this testing in negative terms, James exhorts us to “count it all joy”, never mind that it’s virtually certain there will be little pleasure in the experience of any trial. The fact is that trials function as experiments, and experiences, which serve to prove and improve our faith. In the Hebrew New Testament (Brit Chadasha) the word for “trial” is “ni-sa-yon”, which also happens to be the word for “experience” and “experiment”.
So the trials we experience are literally, experiments upon our faith. And while it is clear that God Himself does not tempt us, we also know that He allows our faith to be proven by experience, and experimentally verified. Faith is not based on experience; it is based on revelation from God. But it’s genuineness is tested by experience. And it ought to be growing through every trial, producing a deeper comprehension of God’s faithfulness.
Your faith is being proved to be genuine through testing and trial; experimentally and experientially, just as was the faith of Abraham, Philip, and every true saint of the Lord. For while faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen — it will be proven in, by, and through the very hard experiences and realities of your life. This is not accidental but very much in the plans and purposes of the Lord.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]These verses capture one of the most profound Messianic truths in all of Scripture. What man cast aside, God exalted. What the builders saw as flawed and unfit, God chose as the foundation of His eternal plan. Yeshua (Jesus), the rejected One, is the very cornerstone upon which salvation, identity, and destiny are built. This is more than a theological concept — it’s a divine reversal that reveals the heart of redemption. Rejection by man does not disqualify–it often qualifies you for God’s greatest purposes.
These verses are far more than ancient lyrics — they are a spiritual invitation. The psalmist doesn’t just admire the gate — he pleads for it to open. “Open to me the gates of righteousness…” This is the cry of a heart that longs for access to God, not by merit, but by mercy. In Hebrew thought, gates represent transition points — thresholds between the common and the holy, the outside and the inner court, the temporal and the eternal. These are not man-made doors — they are divine entrances into the presence and promises of the LORD.
As we continue our study in Psalm 118, I want to take a deep dive into verses 17-18, where the psalmist makes one of the boldest declarations in all of Scripture: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD.” This isn’t the voice of someone untouched by pain — it’s the cry of someone who has been through the fire and come out declaring God’s faithfulness. This statement is not a denial of suffering; it’s a defiance of death. It’s the resolve of a heart that’s been chastened, refined, and pressed, yet remains confident in the God who preserves life — not just for survival, but for purpose.
Over the past two devotionals, we heard the song of the redeemed and stood at the wells of salvation. We saw how strength, song, and salvation flow from Yeshua Himself — how the joy of drawing from His presence is not just a poetic promise but a lifeline for our day. Yet today, we stand at a prophetic threshold. Something has shifted. Something has broken open. We are not only being refreshed — we are being awakened and called.
Yesterday, we heard the anthem of the redeemed rise like a trumpet blast: “The LORD is my strength and song, and He has become my salvation.” We explored how this was more than personal — it was prophetic, Messianic, and generational. We saw Yeshua not only as our Deliverer but as the very embodiment of God’s strength, the melody of our praise, and the fulfillment of every promise. We stood in awe as tents of rejoicing rose in the midst of warfare, and households became sanctuaries of celebration. But today, we go deeper — we step to the well.
There’s a reason this verse resounds like a national anthem of the redeemed. It’s not just a personal declaration—it’s a generational cry that echoes back to Moses at the Red Sea (Exodus 15:2) and forward to the final deliverance of Israel. The Hebrew word for salvation—Yeshua—makes this verse unmistakably Messianic. It isn’t a vague deliverance. It is the revelation of Yeshua (Jesus), the Deliverer, who embodies strength, becomes our song, and stands as the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan.
The cry that shattered the stillness of Golgotha—“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46)—was not a random cry of despair, but the deliberate voice of Yeshua pointing to Scripture. As He hung on the tree, bearing the sin of the world, He invoked the ancient words of David—not only identifying Himself as the righteous sufferer, but signaling that Psalm 22 was unfolding before their very eyes. In that moment, heaven and earth bore witness to a divine mystery: the Holy One, seemingly abandoned, was fulfilling a prophecy written a millennium earlier. Yeshua did not merely suffer—He fulfilled every word, every shadow, every stroke of divine prophecy.