Genesis 22:2 He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you.”
When Abraham is told by YHVH to offer up his son, Issac, the word “love” is spoken for the first time in the Bible. The Hebrew word for love is “ahavah”. This first mention of “ahavah”, which is the very nature of God [1 John 4:8] occurs in direct connection with sacrifice, the sacrifice of a most precious and beloved son. Abraham could not have known at that time that his obedient offering would foreshadow and typify the love of our Heavenly Father who offered up Yeshua, His only begotten Son 2000 years ago.
Notice that in both cases love is directly connected to sacrifice — and that the greatest love comes from God’s sacrifice for our sin. The greatest love involves sacrifice; perfect love is costly.
There are times when loving someone is hard — almost impossible it seems. Yet we have this precedent, Abraham, the Father of faith, and we have Yeshua the Messiah who consummated and perfected “ahavah” in the loving sacrifice of His own life.
So while it’s easy to love when it feels good, loving when it doesn’t — expresses the love of God and His faithful servants. The Holy Spirit, our companion and comforter empowers us to love even when it carries a heavy cost.
Love, even at the most difficult times — realizing that sacrificial love is the very nature of God!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]When the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years, they traversed a rugged, unpredictable landscape — mile after mile of mountains, valleys, rocks, and desert sands — as they journeyed from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land.
For many, God remains a theory—an idea borrowed from tradition, deduced from the cosmos, or tucked quietly into the corners of a creed. He is believed in from afar, but is rarely encountered. Even among believers, it’s not uncommon to live with a distant reverence for God while lacking a vibrant, personal communion with Him.
God has always longed for intimacy with us. He formed us for Himself–to walk with Him, to know Him, to delight in His Presence. This is the very heartbeat of creation: relationship, not religion. Yet sin drove a wedge between us. A veil was drawn, shutting out the light of His face and placing distance where there was once communion.
A beachhead is the first critical objective in a military invasion–the spot where a force lands on enemy territory and secures a position for greater advancement. It’s the place of breakthrough. And it’s also the place of fiercest resistance.
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 2 is a divine announcement — a heavenly decree that demands the world’s attention. It begins with a question: “Why do the nations rage, and the peoples plot in vain?” (Ps. 2:1). The nations rise up, not against injustice or tyranny, but against the rule of God’s Meshiach (Messiah). That Anointed is Yeshua — the Son whom the Father has set on His holy hill in Zion (Ps. 2:6). The psalm strips away all pretense and exposes the heart of human rebellion: it is a refusal to be ruled by His Messiah.
Psalm 1 opens with a sobering warning about the quiet, deadly slide into sin. The man without God doesn’t become a scorner overnight — he drifts there gradually. First, he walks in ungodly counsel, entertaining worldly thoughts. Then, he stands in the path of sinners, embracing their way of life. Finally, he sits in the seat of the scornful, hardened in heart and mocking what is sacred. This progression — from a man without God to scorner — reveals how small compromises grow into full rebellion, dulling the conscience and deadening the soul.