Psalms 56:3 Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You.
We came across this story in the book, Steel in His Soul, The Dick Hillis Story and it really ministered to us so we thought we'd pass it along.
Missionaries Dick and Margaret Hillis found themselves caught in China during the Japanese invasion. The couple lived with their two children in the inland town of Shenkiu. The village was tense with fear, for every day brought terrifying reports of the Japanese advance. At the worst possible time, Dick developed appendicitis, and he knew his life depended on making the long journey to the hospital. On January 15, 1941, with deep foreboding, Margaret watched him leave.
Soon the Chinese colonel came with the news. The enemy was near and townspeople must evacuate. Margaret shivered, knowing that one-year-old Johnny and two-month-old Margaret Anne would never survive as refugees. So she stayed put. Early next morning she tore the page from the wall calendar and read the new day's Scripture. It was Psalm 56:3 -- What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.
The town emptied during the day, and the next morning Margaret arose, feeling abandoned. The new verse on the calendar was Psalm 9:10 -- Thou, Lord, has not forsaken them that seek thee.
The next morning she arose to distant sounds of gunfire and worried about food and her children. The calendar verse was Genesis 50:21 -- I will nourish you and your little ones. An old woman suddenly popped in with a pail of steaming goat's milk, and another straggler arrived with a basket of eggs.
Through the day, sounds of warfare grew louder, and during the night Margaret prayed for deliverance. The next morning she tore the page from the calendar to read Psalm 56:9 -- When I cry unto Thee, then shall my enemies turn back. The battle was looming closer, and Margaret didn't go to bed that night. Invasion seemed imminent. But the next morning, all was quiet. Suddenly, villagers began returning to their homes, and the colonel knocked on her door. For some reason, he told her, the Japanese had withdrawn their troops. No one could understand it, but the danger had passed. They were safe.
Margaret glanced at her wall calendar and felt she had been reading the handwriting of God.
God's handwriting is all around us but so often in the midst of the wars we face, we neglect to take notice. Let's make an effort to see His merciful hand at work in our lives today. He cares for us more than we can imagine!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Psalm 98 is a victory psalm — a call to lift up a “new song” because the Z’roah, the holy arm of the LORD, has brought decisive triumph. In Hebrew thought, the arm is the active extension of the will, the power that brings intention into reality. To call it “holy” is to declare that it is set apart, dedicated fully to God’s purpose, incapable of corruption. The psalmist celebrates that salvation is not a hidden act, but an open demonstration — God’s righteousness revealed before the eyes of the nations.
This is one of the most intimate revelations of the Z’roah in Scripture. God looks for a human intercessor but finds none. No man can bridge the gap. So His own Arm accomplishes the work. In Hebrew, v’tosha lo zeroa — “His arm saved for Him” — reveals that salvation originates from within God Himself, not from any outside help. Isaiah adds that His own righteousness sustained Him — it upheld His resolve to save — and His fury upheld Him, a holy passion that would not rest until justice was accomplished.
To “bare” the arm means to roll up the sleeve and reveal the full readiness for action. In Isaiah’s prophecy, this is a global unveiling — no longer hidden, the Z’roah is on display for all nations to witness. This speaks directly of Yeshua’s (Jesus’) public ministry and, ultimately, His crucifixion.
The Hebrew phrase “z’roah moshel lo” paints the picture of an arm that governs with both strength and care. The same Z’roah that brought Israel out of Egypt in power now establishes righteous order and sustains His people in love. Deliverance without rulership is incomplete; the Redeemer becomes the King — and the King rules as a Shepherd. The Arm does not act independently but moves in perfect submission to the Head, carrying out the will of the Father.
I’ll be doing a series on the “Arm of God,” beginning with this first message — The Arm that Redeems. The Hebrew Z’roah (זְרוֹעַ) means “arm” or “strength,” and in ancient Hebrew culture, the arm symbolizes active power in motion — strength applied for a purpose. In the Exodus account, God tells Moses He will redeem Israel “with an outstretched arm” (bizroa netuyah). This was not poetic metaphor; it was God’s declaration of decisive intervention. The Z’roah is the covenant-keeping arm that moves history, enforces promises, and breaks oppression. Every Pesach (Passover), during the seder — the festive meal of remembrance — the roasted lamb shank bone, the Z’roah, rests on the plate as a silent yet powerful witness to God’s mighty deliverance.
These closing verses of Psalm 118 begin with an unshakable proclamation: “The LORD is God.” In Hebrew, it’s emphatic — YHVH, He is El — the declaration that all authority, holiness, and sovereignty belong to Him alone. Yet this is not just a statement of who He is — it’s a testimony of what He has done: “He has made His light to shine upon us.” This light is more than the glow of the sun — it is the revelation of His presence, the warmth of His favor, and the piercing truth that chases away every shadow. His light doesn’t simply illuminate — it transforms.
Psalm 118:24 is not merely about enjoying a new day — it is a prophetic declaration of a divinely appointed moment. “This is the day the LORD has made” speaks of a kairos moment in history when heaven and earth converge. It points to the day when Messiah would be revealed, salvation would walk into Jerusalem, and God’s covenant plan would take a dramatic step forward. This is not the casual celebration of a sunrise — it is the joyful response to God’s redemptive unfolding.