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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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
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.