1 Samuel 17:28-30 Now Eliab his eldest brother heard when he spoke to the men. And Eliab's anger was kindled against David, and he said, “Why have you come down? And with whom have you left those few sheep in the wilderness? I know your presumption and the evil of your heart, for you have come down to see the battle.” And David said, “What have I done now? Was it not but a word?” And he turned away from him toward another, and spoke in the same way, and the people answered him again as before.
Traveling across America in this climate of national stress, I’ve been repeatedly shocked to witness violent atrocities against the United States government. While many of the protests have been peaceful demonstrations, numerous others have been characterized by a level of violent and seemingly vengeful anger, involving intentional destruction of property with losses in the millions of dollars.
So far, I’ve witnessed significant destruction in Minneapolis, Seattle, Portland, and Denver. Unbridled vandalism in these cities, on government buildings and local businesses, was perpetrated on an unprecedented scale, beyond anything I have ever seen in this country. Anti-government messages, pentagrams, and fascist symbols have been spray-painted in widespread acts of vitriol. All told, and only up to this point, tens of millions of dollars in physical damage must be added to the incalculable pain, suffering, and shock of these local communities.
Visiting these cities where massive protests have taken place, and going to the sites of protests to inquire of the local citizens, I've been asking the same question … “Did you know it was this bad?” Over and over again, the response is invariably, “No!” Those who have shown up when I happened to be there are amazed at the amount of destruction that took place, and they form a company of dismayed witnesses to the clear and revolting reality, that at least in this city, these were not peaceful protests in any way shape or form. The inevitable next question: “How on Earth was this permitted to go on!?”
The question resounds in my own spirit now, and I'm remembering David. I suggest that he faced something similar as Goliath stood in all his height and strength, defying the armies of Israel, appearing utterly invincible. David simply looked over at the Philistine, and back at the Israelite army, and said, “How can you allow this to go on?”
Apart from the response of Eliab, his older brother, and all the others, whose mixture of perplexity, pride, fear, jealousy, and contempt confronted David, the young shepherd's simplicity was anything but naive. David himself was perplexed at the paralysis of his people. And his simple question filled them with the conviction of cowardice and lack of faith.
My simple observation is that America is facing a violent army of invading "Philistines" bent on nothing less than the destruction of the nation. And somehow, Americans have been paralyzed by the enemy's sheer bravado and terrifying violence. A massive silent majority may well be wondering if there might be a "David" anywhere in the camp.
A strategy for battle begins with a will to fight. A young shepherd was not about to sit by and watch this humiliating travesty. This was a defining characteristic of Israel's greatest King. In those days it involved physical battle, and David's weapons were a sling and a stone. What strategy might our God provide against these modern Philistine giants? We will certainly never know if we sit back in fear or complacency and watch the destruction go on. Some of us are pacifists, others believe in "just war", yet we should all be on the same page about one thing: our battle is primarily spiritual and requires the use of spiritual weapons, and strategy from God Himself. This violence cannot be tolerated, and I don't expect it to just go away. Lord give us the courage and will to fight, in YOUR way with your weapons, and be glorified in the victory you accomplish.
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Psalm 98 is a victory psalm — a call to lift up a “new song” because the Z’roah, the holy arm of the LORD, has brought decisive triumph. In Hebrew thought, the arm is the active extension of the will, the power that brings intention into reality. To call it “holy” is to declare that it is set apart, dedicated fully to God’s purpose, incapable of corruption. The psalmist celebrates that salvation is not a hidden act, but an open demonstration — God’s righteousness revealed before the eyes of the nations.
This is one of the most intimate revelations of the Z’roah in Scripture. God looks for a human intercessor but finds none. No man can bridge the gap. So His own Arm accomplishes the work. In Hebrew, v’tosha lo zeroa — “His arm saved for Him” — reveals that salvation originates from within God Himself, not from any outside help. Isaiah adds that His own righteousness sustained Him — it upheld His resolve to save — and His fury upheld Him, a holy passion that would not rest until justice was accomplished.
To “bare” the arm means to roll up the sleeve and reveal the full readiness for action. In Isaiah’s prophecy, this is a global unveiling — no longer hidden, the Z’roah is on display for all nations to witness. This speaks directly of Yeshua’s (Jesus’) public ministry and, ultimately, His crucifixion.
The Hebrew phrase “z’roah moshel lo” paints the picture of an arm that governs with both strength and care. The same Z’roah that brought Israel out of Egypt in power now establishes righteous order and sustains His people in love. Deliverance without rulership is incomplete; the Redeemer becomes the King — and the King rules as a Shepherd. The Arm does not act independently but moves in perfect submission to the Head, carrying out the will of the Father.
I’ll be doing a series on the “Arm of God,” beginning with this first message — The Arm that Redeems. The Hebrew Z’roah (זְרוֹעַ) means “arm” or “strength,” and in ancient Hebrew culture, the arm symbolizes active power in motion — strength applied for a purpose. In the Exodus account, God tells Moses He will redeem Israel “with an outstretched arm” (bizroa netuyah). This was not poetic metaphor; it was God’s declaration of decisive intervention. The Z’roah is the covenant-keeping arm that moves history, enforces promises, and breaks oppression. Every Pesach (Passover), during the seder — the festive meal of remembrance — the roasted lamb shank bone, the Z’roah, rests on the plate as a silent yet powerful witness to God’s mighty deliverance.
These closing verses of Psalm 118 begin with an unshakable proclamation: “The LORD is God.” In Hebrew, it’s emphatic — YHVH, He is El — the declaration that all authority, holiness, and sovereignty belong to Him alone. Yet this is not just a statement of who He is — it’s a testimony of what He has done: “He has made His light to shine upon us.” This light is more than the glow of the sun — it is the revelation of His presence, the warmth of His favor, and the piercing truth that chases away every shadow. His light doesn’t simply illuminate — it transforms.
Psalm 118:24 is not merely about enjoying a new day — it is a prophetic declaration of a divinely appointed moment. “This is the day the LORD has made” speaks of a kairos moment in history when heaven and earth converge. It points to the day when Messiah would be revealed, salvation would walk into Jerusalem, and God’s covenant plan would take a dramatic step forward. This is not the casual celebration of a sunrise — it is the joyful response to God’s redemptive unfolding.