Colossians 3:13-14 Bear with each other, and forgiving each other, if any man has a complaint against anyone: even as Christ forgave you, so you also must do. But above all these things put on love (agape), which is the bond of perfection.
After the Civil War, Robert E. Lee visited a Kentucky lady who took him to the remains of a once beautiful old tree in front of her house. There she bitterly cried that its limbs and trunk had been destroyed by Federal artillery fire. She looked to Lee for a word condemning the North or at least sympathizing with her loss. After a brief silence, Lee said, "Cut it down, my dear Madam, and forget it."
The enemy is constantly attacking the body of Messiah. Some of his most effective tactics are anger, bitterness, and unforgiveness, which are often based on real, sometimes deep, wounds we have received from others in the faith. Paul wrote that we should not be ignorant of the enemy's schemes (2 Cor. 2:11), that bitterness, resentment, and unforgiveness give him an opportunity to quench the Holy Spirit and destroy our fellowship with God and one another. So the apostle urged forbearance, forgiveness, and above all else, the kind of love which Yeshua (Jesus) showed to us; a love which covered our sins against Him, forgiving and restoring relationship. This is not a love which is natural to us. Our nature is to hold on to offenses, to desire justice, recompense, or even revenge. Do we realize that the love we need to truly forgive is from another Source?
The beautiful old tree in the woman's front yard might symbolize something very dear, beloved and precious in your life....something which was terribly damaged by an enemy you feel justified to hate.
Whatever is left of that "tree" in your life or in your memory is a constant temptation to nurture hate and unforgiveness. Is this how you want to live? Will this "tree" become a memorial unto hatred and revenge, or hardness of heart and a never-ending cry for "justice"? If so, you will find yourself bound to that tree, as if you were chained to it. General Lee's words apply here: "Cut it down, my dear Madam, and forget it." "Vengeance is Mine, says the Lord, I will repay." So, not only can you afford to forgive and leave justice in His hands, but the freedom and joy of loving the way God loves, will also be yours.
Yeshua (Jesus) has forgiven us. We should forgive others as we've been forgiven. Let's cut down the battered trees in our lives, choose forgiveness, in the Spirit of Jesus, and put on (agape) love.
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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.