1 Peter 2:5,9 You also, as living stones, are built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God’s own possession, that you may show forth the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.
Believers in Messiah Yeshua (Jesus) have all been inducted into a priesthood by the new birth, a New Covenant priesthood established by the Lord Himself, in the order of Melchizidek [Psalm 110:4; Hebrews 7:11]. While the Old Testament Levitical priesthood was limited exclusively to the sons of Aaron, all New Testament believers in Messiah are called a “Royal priesthood” [1 Peter 2:5; 2:9].
Exodus 28 describes the exquisite beauty of the holy clothing to be worn by Aaron and his sons. Anyone beholding these men in full priestly dress would be struck with wonder and admiration at the beauty and significance of this majestic, bejeweled array of garments. The impression created by the Levitical priests and their sacred adornment could be likened to the New Covenant believer’s outward appearance, which should also be obvious to others; the beauty of good works, tenderheartedness, joyful countenance, etc.
Yet there is another parallel, perhaps even more important: when dressing himself for his priestly ministry, the Levitical High Priest actually begins by donning his linen undergarments. These, of course, are invisible to others, yet are the garments closest to his body, and could be likened to his invisible inner life.
Yeshua’s Sermon on the Mount speaks to this invisible area of human nature and its propensity to sin. We may appear quite religious and lovely outwardly, impressing others with cultivated behavior, and good deeds, while our “undergarments” are soiled and anything but holy. But, of course, the undergarments of the High Priest were also required to be holy, even though no one would ever see them.
Your outer life and behavior will reveal a great deal about you, as your face and actions reflect your heart, character, and values. But the source of all that is visible in your life must correspond to that which is hidden…your “spiritual undergarments”; i.e. your inner life with the Lord. The holiness of God should permeate every facet of our lives, so what we walk out in public flows from our private communion with Him.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
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.