Matthew 24:33 So you also, when you see all these things, know that it is near—at the doors!
The parable of the fig tree is not just a message to observers — it’s a summons to the faithful. The fig tree puts out its leaves first, then comes the fruit. Spiritually, that’s a call to live in readiness even before the final harvest arrives. Yeshua (Jesus) tells His disciples, “Be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect” (Matthew 24:44).
In Hebraic thought, readiness is active, not passive. The Hebrew word for “wait” (קוָה – kaw-vah) carries the meaning of hopeful tension, like a watchman on the wall (Isaiah 40:31). It’s not merely waiting — it’s preparing, expecting, anticipating with purposeful action. As the fig tree moves from dormant to fruitful, we too are called to shift into alignment with the coming Kingdom.
Botanically, a fig tree must be pruned and cultivated to yield good fruit. Without care, it can overgrow and produce inedible figs. This mirrors the parable Yeshua told in Luke 13:6–9, where a fig tree had no fruit for three years. The vinedresser asked for one more year to dig and fertilize. Yeshua is the vinedresser, calling for repentance and fruit-bearing readiness in His people.
The wise virgins in Matthew 25 kept oil in their lamps as they waited for the bridegroom. This oil is a picture of the Holy Spirit and ongoing intimacy with God. Readiness is not about storing canned goods—it’s about keeping your heart in a state of holiness, filled with the Spirit, and aligned with God’s Word.
Let the fig tree awaken your spirit. These signs are not meant to debate — it’s a call to action. Stop watching the clock and start preparing your heart. Live as if the King could step through the door at any moment. Be clothed in righteousness. Keep your lamp full. Stay on watch. The hour is late, and the King is not far–He is at the door.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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?
After one of the greatest spiritual victories in all of Scripture–calling down fire from heaven on Mount Carmel and turning the hearts of Israel back to God–Elijah finds himself blindsided by fear.
Elijah heard what no one else did — a storm was coming. Though the sky was still blue and the ground still cracked from years of drought, Elijah discerned the sound of abundance. It was a prophetic knowing, a spiritual sensitivity that saw past what was visible into what God was about to do.
When Elijah cast his cloak over Elisha in the field, it wasn’t just a symbolic act — it was a divine call. Elisha understood this and responded not with delay or excuse, but with decisive action. After asking to say goodbye to his parents, he returned, slaughtered his oxen, and used the wooden yokes as fuel for the sacrifice. Then he gave the meal to the people and walked away from everything familiar to follow the prophet Elijah.