Philippians 3:8-11 Yet indeed I also count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having my own righteousness, which is from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is from God by faith; that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death, if, by any means, I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.
In today’s world of Smart Phones, tablets and instant Internet access, there are many things that we can “know.” “How long is the Golden Gate Bridge?” Pop out your iPhone, ask “Siri”, the golden-voiced digital encyclopedic genius, and you’ll have the factual answer in seconds.
But there’s more to the Golden Gate than just length; truly another “dimension” of knowledge and understanding of the bridge over San Francisco Bay, which might be acquired from the 95-year-old retired construction worker who spent 2 years of his life building it. The knowledge you’ll glean from his salt-parched lips will hold you spellbound as he describes wrestling with massive cables in stormy bay weather, or nearly losing his balance leaning over to paint an inaccessible bolt.
There are facts — head knowledge, and there is the knowing of and from experience. We all know this, and it’s why we prefer the mechanic who has been fixing cars for 35 years over the novice who just graduated from vocational training school.
The apostle Paul wanted experiential knowledge of the Lord Jesus. He wanted fellowship with His sufferings, experiential resurrection power, even, if it were possible, the absolute death of his sin nature. Paul wanted the actual reality of the living Messiah manifested in his life, and he knew and believed this to be his inheritance in the death and resurrection of the Lord. Paul wanted to know Yeshua intimately and personally and share in the Lord’s own experiences. This Passover Resurrection Day season as we celebrate and meditate on the factual reality of what happened in Jerusalem 2000 years ago, we might also join the apostle Paul in his own sincere passion; “that I may know 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]When we read the promises of God, we must read them the way we ourselves want to be heard—in full context. Just as we expect others to understand our words in light of what we’ve said before, God expects us to interpret His promises in light of all He has revealed in His Word.
A few days ago, I shared a quote from B.J. Willhite, and today I want to delve deeper into his powerful insight. He wrote, “The law of prayer is the highest law of the universe—it can overcome the other laws by sanctioning God’s intervention. When implemented properly, the law of prayer permits God to exercise His sovereignty in a world under the dominion of a rebel with free will, in a universe governed by natural law.”
When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.
In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.
Tonight we’ll participate in the Independence Day celebration in Israel — and what a party! — shows, fireworks, music, dancing, everything under the sun!
Yesterday, Israel observed Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Remembrance Day—honoring the memory of the six million Jews who perished. Tragically, a recent poll reveals that nearly half of Israelis fear the possibility of another Holocaust. In light of this sobering reality, I want to share a powerful story of one remarkable woman who rescued 2,500 Jewish children from the ghettos during World War II.
One night a house caught fire and a young boy was forced to flee flames by jumping to the ground from the roof. His father stood on the ground below with outstretched arms, calling to his son, “Jump! I’ll catch you.” But the boy was afraid — he couldn’t see his father — all he could see was flame, smoke, and blackness. He was afraid. Still, his father kept yelling: “Jump son! I will catch you!” But the boy refused, crying, “Daddy, I can’t see you!” His father replied, “It’s ok son — I can see you — and that’s all that matters!”