Revelation 2:7 “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes I will give to eat from the tree of life, which is in the midst of the Paradise of God.”
The place we call home in Israel is in the rebuilt city of Arad, an ancient city rebuilt in 1962 near the historic site of Tel Arad. It was the first planned city in Israel.
Tel Arad was an ancient fortress that, according to archaeologists, has been destroyed and rebuilt at least ten times. The citadel was thought to have originally been built during the times of King David and Solomon. The Negev desert’s arid conditions have remarkably preserved the fortress’s archaeological layers, providing a continuous record of its history for hundreds of years.
One of the most significant discoveries within the ruins of Tel Arad is the only Israelite temple ever found in an archaeological dig. Inside the site, you can see an Israelite altar and two limestone incense altars, which once stood at the entrance of the Holy of Holies.
This Israelite temple (high place) remained perfectly preserved, and archaeologists attribute its destruction to King Hezekiah’s reforms.
During his reign, Hezekiah removed the idolatrous cults and destroyed the high places throughout Judah (2 Chronicles 32:11-12; 2 Kings 18:4; 2 Kings 18:22; Isaiah 36:7).
The high place at Tel Arad was buried beneath a layer of dirt, and great respect was shown during the process. Both incense altars were laid on their sides before the entire structure was covered, effectively erasing the memory of the temple from history until excavations began on the Tel in the 1960s.
Some believe this final burial may have occurred during the reign of King Josiah (2 Kings 23:1-37). Regardless of the exact timing, worship at the high place came to an end.
Fast forward to today, and recent scientific techniques have shed new light on this ancient site.
In 2021, as Israel’s Knesset debated the decriminalization of cannabis, researchers revealed that the incense altars at the Tel Arad temple contained traces of cannabis, frankincense, and dung.
Astonishingly, the very place God commanded to be destroyed for its idolatry—what Hezekiah referred to as a “high place”—was indeed a literal “high place.”
Just months before the Israeli government debated the cannabis question, God provided the answer through archaeology: “Bury the habit!” The cannabis used in the ancient temple produced a counterfeit high, unlike the true euphoria that comes from being in the presence of God and worshipping Him.
While many argue that the Bible doesn’t address modern issues, we are constantly surrounded by evidence that God continues to answer even the most challenging questions of our time—because God is still speaking to us today! The real question is … “Are we attentively listening?”
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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.