1 Kings 18:36-39 And at the time of the offering of the oblation, Elijah the prophet came near and said, “O LORD, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, let it be known this day that you are God in Israel, and that I am your servant, and that I have done all these things at your word. 37 Answer me, O LORD, answer me, that this people may know that you, O LORD, are God, and that you have turned their hearts back.” 38 Then the fire of the LORD fell and consumed the burnt offering and the wood and the stones and the dust, and licked up the water that was in the trench. 39 And when all the people saw it, they fell on their faces and said, “The LORD, he is God; the LORD, he is God.”
Every true move of revival begins where few look for it—at the hidden brook, in the quiet place of God’s pruning. Cherith (נַחַל כְּרִית) means to cut off, to separate, to covenant. Before Elijah could stand on Mount Carmel and call down fire, he had to be separated, set apart for God’s purposes.
Cherith was the place where God stripped away distractions, where Elijah learned to depend not on crowds or acclaim, but on the Lord’s daily provision. Like Elijah, God brings us to Cherith to prepare our hearts, to cut away what hinders His power, and to renew our covenant loyalty. Revival begins when God’s people allow Him to do this hidden work making us ready for His fire.
But Cherith is not the end of the journey. God calls His servants from the brook to Mount Carmel (הַר הַכַּרְמֶל)—the mount of decision, where revival breaks forth. Carmel, once a fruitful place, had become barren through compromise and Baal worship. Yet God chose that very place to send His fire. On Carmel, Elijah called for the fire — and God answered. The fire fell, not just for spectacle, but to burn away idolatry, to awaken a nation, and to turn hearts back to Himself: “Answer me, O Lord, answer me, so these people will know that You, O Lord, are God, and that You have turned their hearts back again.” (1 Kings 18:37). The fire of revival always falls where hearts are ready to return to God.
And the fire was not the end. Revival fire makes way for the rain. After the fire came the Geshem (גֶּשֶׁם)—the rain of restoration, the outpouring that brings life to dry ground. Elijah’s prayer brought the rain that broke the drought and healed the land. This is God’s pattern: first He sends the fire to purify; then comes the rain to restore. It is the same pattern we see in Yeshua (Jesus) — the judgment for sin at the Cross, then the outpouring of the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:16-19; Joel 2:28) to bring life, power, and true fruitfulness. Revival is the fire that prepares the way for God’s rain of blessing on a thirsty world.
So rise up, beloved! Don’t shrink back from Cherith’s pruning, don’t hesitate on Carmel’s heights, and don’t stop watching the skies for God’s rain. Now is the time to yield your heart fully—to be the one through whom His fire can fall and His rain can pour. Let your life be the spark that ignites a generation, the vessel God uses to awaken the dry bones of a nation. The God who answered Elijah with fire and rain is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He is ready to move again—are you ready to be part of His revival? Surrender now. Cry out now. The hour is at hand!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]How often, in all the issues we have to deal with talking with people, we know or we feel we are right; our idea, our position, our interpretation is it, and we’re ready to fight for it…
Life wears us down. We live in a world of relentless motion, pressure, and performance. Yeshua (Jesus) doesn’t deny this. Instead, He speaks directly to those who are “weary and heavy-laden.” The Greek for “weary” (kopiao) means utterly worn out—soul-tired, not just physically fatigued. The burdens He mentions aren’t only external tasks but inward baggage: guilt, shame, expectations, and hidden wounds. Yeshua’s call isn’t merely an invitation to stop—it’s a call to come. He offers what no one else can: rest that restores.
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!