Isaiah 9:6c – “And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”
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.
Wonderful (פֶּלֶא / Peleh): This is the word used by the Angel of the LORD when He appeared to Samson’s parents in Judges 13. When Manoah asked His name, He replied, “Why do you ask My name, seeing it is wonderful (פֶּלִאי / pele’i)?” — a title linked to divinity and mystery. This wasn’t just any angel—it was a pre-incarnate appearance of Messiah. “Peleh” is used elsewhere in Scripture to describe the miraculous acts of God. Messiah isn’t just amazing—He is a supernatural wonder, beyond comprehension, worthy of awe and reverence.
Counselor (יוֹעֵץ / Yo’etz): In a world flooded with opinions and confusion, Yeshua (Jesus) is the eternal voice of wisdom. This is not human strategy, but divine counsel that flows from perfect understanding. He doesn’t merely advise—He leads with truth that pierces through every lie and brings clarity to chaos. Isaiah later says in 11:2 that “the Spirit of counsel and might” will rest upon Him. When you don’t know what to do, He is wisdom made manifest. (Colossians 2:2-3)
Mighty God (אֵל גִּבּוֹר / El Gibbor): This title leaves no room for ambiguity. “El Gibbor” appears again in Isaiah 10:21—used exclusively of YHWH Himself. It literally means “God the Warrior.” This child born to us is not a godly man, but God made flesh. He is the conquering King, the defender of Israel, and the One before whom every knee will bow. His name here directly affirms the deity of Messiah, silencing those who try to reduce Him to mere prophet or teacher.
Everlasting Father (אֲבִי עַד / Avi-Ad) is a title that does not blur the distinction between Messiah and God the Father within the Triune nature of God, but rather reveals Messiah’s eternal essence and fatherly role. In Hebrew thought, to be called the “father” of something means to be its source or originator. Thus, Avi-Ad identifies the Messiah as the Father of Eternity—the one from whom time itself proceeds. He is not merely one who lives forever; He is the source, author, and sustainer of eternity itself. His nature is unbound by time, and His care knows no expiration. As Avi-Ad, He nurtures, sustains, and never abandons. He is the One who was, who is, and who is to come—the eternal foundation behind all existence.
This title powerfully affirms Messiah’s deity. No mere human could ever be called the “Father of Eternity”—that is a designation belonging to God alone. Isaiah is proclaiming that the Child who is born is none other than the One through whom all things came into being. This truth is echoed across Scripture: Micah 5:2 declares that His goings forth are “from everlasting”; John 1:1–3 tells us, “In the beginning was the Word… all things were made through Him”; and Colossians 1:17 reveals, “He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.” Messiah is not a created being—He is the preexistent King, the One who steps into time yet exists beyond it, the eternal source of life who holds all things together by the power of His Word.
Prince of Peace (שַׂר שָׁלוֹם / Sar Shalom): “Shalom” is more than peace in the absence of war—it means wholeness, harmony, restoration, and right order. And Yeshua is not just a messenger of peace; He is the ruler who brings it. He is the One who speaks, and storms cease. He reconciles man to God, breaks down dividing walls, and makes the broken whole. His peace is active, reigning, and redemptive.
So when life feels fragmented—when your heart is restless, your path uncertain, or your world shaking—run to His Name. Call upon each title, not as a distant truth, but as a personal promise. He is your Wonder, your Counsel, your God, your Father, your Peace. Let these names become part of your prayer life. Invite Him to be all these things to you—personally, powerfully, daily.
Every one of His names shatters the limits of what you thought possible. In Him, the mystery of heaven meets the mess of earth. So lift up His Name in faith, not as ritual but as revelation. Declare it over your mind, your household, and your future. He is Wonderful when you’re overwhelmed. Counselor when you’re confused. Mighty God when you feel weak. Everlasting Father when you feel alone. Prince of Peace when the war won’t stop. His Name is not just what He’s called — it’s what He does. Call on Him. Trust in Him. For He is the One whose Name that is above all names! (Philippians 2:9-11)
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.