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]Among all fruit-bearing trees, the fig tree is uniquely prophetic–because it is one of the few that produces two harvests in a single growing season. First comes the early crop in spring, known in Scripture as the “first ripe fig” (Isaiah 28:4), and then a second, more abundant harvest in late summer or early fall. This uncommon pattern is a living picture of prophecy woven into the fabric of creation.
Yeshua (Jesus) didn’t merely offer a suggestion–He issued a command: “Learn the parable.” In Greek, the word manthano (μανθάνω) implies disciplined learning, not casual observation. In Hebraic thought, to “learn” a parable means to press into its hidden meaning until it transforms how you live. The fig tree is not just a poetic image–it’s a prophetic mandate. And Yeshua expected His disciples, including us, to understand it deeply.
Yeshua (Jesus) used the fig tree—a familiar symbol in Israel’s botanical and prophetic world—as a teaching tool to awaken spiritual discernment. The fig tree, known for losing all its leaves in winter and budding again in spring, became a natural signpost to mark the changing seasons. In the same way, Jesus gave His disciples prophetic markers to discern a coming shift: wars, famines, false messiahs, persecution, lawlessness, and the global preaching of the gospel (Matthew 24:4–14).
On July 4th, America remembers a bold declaration — a break from tyranny, a longing for a better government, and the birth of a nation built on liberty. The Founders risked everything to establish a new way of life, one where freedom could flourish. Their cry was clear: “We will no longer be ruled by kings who oppress–we will be governed by laws that reflect liberty and justice.”
In a world full of uncertainty, this verse from Romans stands like a lighthouse in the storm: “The God of hope…” Not just the God who gives hope, but the very source of it. When everything around us seems shaken — economies falter, nations rage, relationships strain — it is the God of hope who remains unshaken and unchanging.
When Yeshua (Jesus) spoke these words not only to the seventy He sent ahead of Him, but to every disciple who follows Him into the world, it’s a striking picture: fields overflowing with a harvest, ready to be gathered. The problem isn’t the readiness of the harvest — it’s the shortage of workers willing to go.
This piercing question opens Psalm 11 like a cry from the heart in troubled times. It’s a question we ask when law and order collapse, when truth is ridiculed, and when those who do evil seem to triumph. The foundations — the principles of righteousness, justice, and truth that uphold society — are under siege. And it begs the question: What can God’s people do when everything righteous seems to be crumbling?