Est 4:14b who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?
This is a story relayed by Corrie Ten Boom, “It was Christmas, 1944. My sister, Betsie, had died. I was in a hospital barracks in Ravensbruck, a Nazi prison camp. Dark it was in my heart, and darkness was around me. There were Christmas trees in the street between the barracks. Dead bodies of prisoners had been thrown under the Christmas trees. I tried to talk to the people around me about Christmas, but they mocked and sneered. At last, I kept quiet.
In the middle of the night, I suddenly heard a child crying and calling, “Mommy! Come to Oelie. Oelie feels so alone.” I went to her and saw a child not so young, but feebleminded. “Oelie, Mommy cannot come, but do you know who is willing to come to you? Jesus will come.” Oelie was lying on a bed next to the window, not far from lack of food, she had a sweet face and beautiful eyes. A bandage of toilet paper covered an incision from surgery on her back. That night I told this poor child about Jesus. How He came into the world as a little baby how He came to save us from our sins. “The Lord Jesus loves Oelie and has borne her punishment on the cross…. Jesus is … [in heaven] right now. He is getting a little house ready for Oelie.” Later I asked her what she remembered of what I had told her. “What is the little house like?” I asked. “It is very beautiful. There are no wicked people as in Ravensbruck only good people and angels. And Oelie will see Jesus there.” The child added, “I will ask Jesus to make me brave when I have a pain. I will think of the pain that Jesus suffered to show Oelie the way to heaven.” Oelie folded her hands; together we gave thanks. Then I knew why I had to spend this Christmas in Ravensbruck.”
Often, we find ourselves in difficult situations or places, and we can’t for the life of us understand for what possible reason we’re here — but be encouraged! We may not understand but God does! And who knows whether you have come into the kingdom for such a time as this?
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]King David wrote these words generations before the empty tomb shook the foundations of death. At first glance, Psalm 16 reads like a personal prayer of trust — a yearning for security and closeness with God. But beneath the surface, the Spirit was revealing something deeper, something eternal: a promise not just for David, but for all of us.
The majestic Messianic prophecy of Isaiah 9 culminates in a powerful declaration: “The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this.” Not might. Not maybe. Not if we work hard enough. It will be done — because God Himself is passionate to see it through. The Hebrew word for “zeal” here is קִנְאָה (kin’ah), which also means jealousy or burning passion. This is not passive interest — it’s the fiery determination of the LORD of Hosts to establish His Kingdom. The same fiery zeal that struck Egypt with plagues—shattering the power of false gods, that parted the Red Sea and made a way where there was none, that birthed a nation from the womb of slavery, and that drove the Son of God to the cross at Calvary — is the very zeal that will fulfill every promise declared in Isaiah 9.
In a world weary from political upheaval, moral confusion, and fleeting peace, Isaiah offers us a vision of something profoundly different—an ever-increasing kingdom ruled by a King whose justice is not compromised, whose peace is not fleeting, and whose throne is eternally secure. The phrase “of the increase of His government and peace there will be no end” speaks not just of duration, but of expansion—a kingdom that doesn’t plateau, doesn’t weaken, and doesn’t shrink back in the face of darkness. Instead, it advances, multiplies, and transforms.
In the Hebraic understanding, a name isn’t just a label—it reveals essence, identity, and destiny. Isaiah doesn’t say these are merely descriptions of the Messiah; he says His Name shall be called — meaning this is who He is. When we declare these names, we are not offering poetic praise — we are calling upon real attributes of the living King. In just one verse, the prophet unveils the depth of Messiah’s personhood, showing us that this child is no ordinary child. He is the fulfillment of heaven’s promise and the revelation of God’s nature.
In a world wearied by the failures of men, Isaiah 9:6 offers a startling promise of hope and strength: “The government shall be upon His shoulder.” This is not the language of politics as we know it — it’s the language of divine dominion. The Hebrew word for “government” here is misrah (מִשְׂרָה), a word so unique it appears only in these two verses—Isaiah 9:6 and 9:7. Unlike more common Hebrew words for government — mamlachah or memshalah, misrah speaks of a rare and elevated rule—divinely ordained, gentle in character, and eternal in scope. This is a government not imposed, but carried. Not tyrannical, but righteous and restorative.
The prophet Isaiah begins with language so familiar that it’s often read too quickly. Yet within this brief phrase lies a depth of mystery and majesty that anchors the entire gospel. “For unto us a Child is born” speaks of an earthly event–Messiah’s humanity. He was born as all men are born, taking on flesh, entering a specific culture, time, and lineage. The Hebrew word for “born” (yalad) reinforces His full identification with us. This is the miracle of the incarnation: God wrapped in the vulnerability of a newborn child.
When the Lord called us to be His ambassadors, He didn’t merely give us a message — He gave us a lifestyle to embody it. An ambassador is not just a messenger, but a living representation of the Kingdom they serve. That means our behavior, words, and example all matter deeply.