Psalms 3:1-8 A Psalm of David, when he fled from Absalom his son. O LORD, how many are my foes! Many are rising against me; 2 many are saying of my soul, “There is no salvation for him in God.” Selah 3 But you, O LORD, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head. 4 I cried aloud to the LORD, and he answered me from his holy hill. Selah 5 I lay down and slept; I woke again, for the LORD sustained me. 6 I will not be afraid of many thousands of people who have set themselves against me all around. 7 Arise, O LORD! Save me, O my God! For you strike all my enemies on the cheek; you break the teeth of the wicked. 8 Salvation belongs to the LORD; your blessing be on your people! Selah
David wrote Psalm 3 while running for his life — betrayed, heartbroken, and hunted by his own son, Absalom. The weight of rebellion wasn’t just political; it was personal. His household had turned against him. Friends became foes. Loyal hearts grew cold. The throne he once held was now surrounded by enemies, and the whispers grew louder: “There is no salvation for him in God.” (Psalm 3:2)
But David didn’t answer his enemies — he answered with worship.
“But You, O LORD, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.” (Psalm 3:3) In the midst of collapse, David turned his eyes upward. When everything else was falling apart, he clung to the truth that God had not. The Lord was his shield — not just ahead of him, but around him, covering the blind spots, the unseen threats. When others stripped away his dignity, God became his glory. When grief bowed his head low, God lifted it again.
David didn’t just endure—he rested. “I lay down and slept; I woke again, for the LORD sustained me.” (Psalm 3:5) That single verse speaks volumes. David didn’t sleep because the danger was gone—he slept because his trust was anchored in the God who never sleeps. Surrounded by betrayal and hunted in the dark, he laid his head down in faith, not fear. And when morning came, breath still in his lungs, it was proof: God was still writing his story.
And because of that, he faced the day unshaken. “I will not be afraid of many thousands of people who have set themselves against me all around.” (Psalms 3:6) The odds didn’t matter anymore. God was with him. The same voice that silenced storms now steadied his heart.
“Arise, O LORD! Save me, O my God!” (Psalm 3:7) David called out — not in panic, but in confidence. He had seen what God could do. He knew the One who breaks the power of the wicked and silences every mocking mouth. And then he makes a bold declaration that echoes across generations: “Salvation belongs to the LORD; Your blessing be on Your people.” (Psalm 3:8)
This isn’t just David’s testimony — it’s the battle cry of every believer who’s ever stood in the fire and refused to bow. When betrayal breaks your heart, when fear grips your chest, when the enemy hisses, “You’re finished” — lift your eyes. The same God who shielded David surrounds you now. He is your defender. He is your honor when shame tries to stain you. He is the hand that lifts your head when the weight of life pulls it down.
Your rescue doesn’t come from strategy or strength, from plans or performance. Salvation is God’s alone — and He’s never lost a battle. His blessing isn’t fragile. It doesn’t vanish in the storm. It rests still — on those who trust Him. Selah. Let that truth thunder through your soul while the battle rages on!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Life wears us down. We live in a world of relentless motion, pressure, and performance. Yeshua (Jesus) doesn’t deny this. Instead, He speaks directly to those who are “weary and heavy-laden.” The Greek for “weary” (kopiao) means utterly worn out—soul-tired, not just physically fatigued. The burdens He mentions aren’t only external tasks but inward baggage: guilt, shame, expectations, and hidden wounds. Yeshua’s call isn’t merely an invitation to stop—it’s a call to come. He offers what no one else can: rest that restores.
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.