1 John 5:4 For whatever is born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world — our faith.
In 2nd Samuel chapter 9, we read the story of King David and Mephibosheth. Mephibosheth was the son of Jonathan and the grandson of the first king of Israel, King Saul. After Jonathan’s death, David went forth to show kindness to Saul’s house. Mephibosheth had become lame at the young age of five — he had lived his entire life as a cripple. When David calls him forth, Mephibosheth replies “What is thy servant, that thou shouldest look upon such a dead dog as I am?” His identity was completely based on his disability when in fact, he was the grandson of a king! He had forgotten his royal lineage and was wallowing in self-pity. Yet David looked beyond his disability and recognizing who he was, offered him a place at the King’s table.
How much time do we spend wallowing in our own self-pity, groaning about things with which we struggle daily…so much so that it becomes who we are! The enemy would love nothing more than to keep us focused on our disabilities so that we are distracted from the calling of God on our lives. He wants us to have a “victim mentality”.
But beloved, let us be reminded today: in Yeshua (Jesus), we are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, sons and daughters of the Most High. The King of Glory has not only redeemed us—He has invited us to dine at His table. We are not castaways; we are co-heirs with Christ!
So let us rise with a victor’s mindset. Let us walk in the fullness of our calling, shake off the labels of the past, and take our rightful seat at the King’s table—confident in who we are in Him.
Copyright 1999-2025 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
How to display the above article within the Worthy Suite WordPress Plugin.
[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]
In a world full of uncertainty, this verse from Romans stands like a lighthouse in the storm: “The God of hope…” Not just the God who gives hope, but the very source of it. When everything around us seems shaken — economies falter, nations rage, relationships strain — it is the God of hope who remains unshaken and unchanging.
When Yeshua (Jesus) spoke these words not only to the seventy He sent ahead of Him, but to every disciple who follows Him into the world, it’s a striking picture: fields overflowing with a harvest, ready to be gathered. The problem isn’t the readiness of the harvest — it’s the shortage of workers willing to go.
This piercing question opens Psalm 11 like a cry from the heart in troubled times. It’s a question we ask when law and order collapse, when truth is ridiculed, and when those who do evil seem to triumph. The foundations — the principles of righteousness, justice, and truth that uphold society — are under siege. And it begs the question: What can God’s people do when everything righteous seems to be crumbling?
After one of the greatest spiritual victories in all of Scripture–calling down fire from heaven on Mount Carmel and turning the hearts of Israel back to God–Elijah finds himself blindsided by fear.
Elijah heard what no one else did — a storm was coming. Though the sky was still blue and the ground still cracked from years of drought, Elijah discerned the sound of abundance. It was a prophetic knowing, a spiritual sensitivity that saw past what was visible into what God was about to do.
When Elijah cast his cloak over Elisha in the field, it wasn’t just a symbolic act — it was a divine call. Elisha understood this and responded not with delay or excuse, but with decisive action. After asking to say goodbye to his parents, he returned, slaughtered his oxen, and used the wooden yokes as fuel for the sacrifice. Then he gave the meal to the people and walked away from everything familiar to follow the prophet Elijah.
Elijah had just come through one of the most intense seasons of his life. He had called down fire from heaven on Mount Carmel, seen the prophets of Baal defeated, and yet found himself running in fear from Jezebel, exhausted and discouraged. In the cave at Horeb, he cried out, believing he was alone and that all was lost. But it was there—in the still small voice—that God revealed His presence and His plan.