John 15:5 I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing.
When we moved into this place five months ago, the bushes in front looked terrible. The yard hadn't been cared for in so long that the bushes had grown into the trees, pulling down the branches, creating a thick wall of dry, dusty and intertwined shrubbery and blocking out the sunlight. Almost everything in the front yard was dead from lack of sun and sometimes even rain.
A couple of months ago, we inquired as to how much it would cost to cut all that dirty mess down so that we and the yard could receive a little sunlight. We found a reasonable price and the next morning two men came to start the job. About half way through the day, we were starting to feel for those guys as by this point all of us were realizing that they had terribly underestimated the work it would take to tear this thing down. What was supposedly only going to take a couple of hours, took all day long. From morning till dark, they hacked at that wall, and still had to return the next day to collect all the branches and leaves as it had already become too dark.
When the sun came up that next morning we felt it, and we stepped outside to see results. It looked, well.... horrible! The bushes and trees looked even more homely and uninviting than before. And now that the light shined brightly into our yard, the dryness and ugliness of everything showed in a way we hadn't seen it before! We were so disappointed.
But only two months later, the bushes, the grass, the flowers, everything is nice and green and beautiful!
Here's what we learned. In order for the sun to come in, the dross has to be cut down. At first, a lot of ugly things will be exposed. But as the sun shines down with all its nutrients and the rain moistens and washes away what was once all dry and dirty, little sprouts of fresh life begin to sprout and with time, before you know it, everything becomes new and any evidence of the old disappears.
Hmmmm. So it is with our hardened and dry hearts. We need to clear away the dross and let the Son come in! We needn't be discouraged when we see the results at first -- just keep allowing His nutrients to nourish us and His rain to wash us. Soon you and all our neighbors will see a beautiful thing grow and they will probably want to know how they too can get their hearts looking so nice!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]These verses capture one of the most profound Messianic truths in all of Scripture. What man cast aside, God exalted. What the builders saw as flawed and unfit, God chose as the foundation of His eternal plan. Yeshua (Jesus), the rejected One, is the very cornerstone upon which salvation, identity, and destiny are built. This is more than a theological concept — it’s a divine reversal that reveals the heart of redemption. Rejection by man does not disqualify–it often qualifies you for God’s greatest purposes.
These verses are far more than ancient lyrics — they are a spiritual invitation. The psalmist doesn’t just admire the gate — he pleads for it to open. “Open to me the gates of righteousness…” This is the cry of a heart that longs for access to God, not by merit, but by mercy. In Hebrew thought, gates represent transition points — thresholds between the common and the holy, the outside and the inner court, the temporal and the eternal. These are not man-made doors — they are divine entrances into the presence and promises of the LORD.
As we continue our study in Psalm 118, I want to take a deep dive into verses 17-18, where the psalmist makes one of the boldest declarations in all of Scripture: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD.” This isn’t the voice of someone untouched by pain — it’s the cry of someone who has been through the fire and come out declaring God’s faithfulness. This statement is not a denial of suffering; it’s a defiance of death. It’s the resolve of a heart that’s been chastened, refined, and pressed, yet remains confident in the God who preserves life — not just for survival, but for purpose.
Over the past two devotionals, we heard the song of the redeemed and stood at the wells of salvation. We saw how strength, song, and salvation flow from Yeshua Himself — how the joy of drawing from His presence is not just a poetic promise but a lifeline for our day. Yet today, we stand at a prophetic threshold. Something has shifted. Something has broken open. We are not only being refreshed — we are being awakened and called.
Yesterday, we heard the anthem of the redeemed rise like a trumpet blast: “The LORD is my strength and song, and He has become my salvation.” We explored how this was more than personal — it was prophetic, Messianic, and generational. We saw Yeshua not only as our Deliverer but as the very embodiment of God’s strength, the melody of our praise, and the fulfillment of every promise. We stood in awe as tents of rejoicing rose in the midst of warfare, and households became sanctuaries of celebration. But today, we go deeper — we step to the well.
There’s a reason this verse resounds like a national anthem of the redeemed. It’s not just a personal declaration—it’s a generational cry that echoes back to Moses at the Red Sea (Exodus 15:2) and forward to the final deliverance of Israel. The Hebrew word for salvation—Yeshua—makes this verse unmistakably Messianic. It isn’t a vague deliverance. It is the revelation of Yeshua (Jesus), the Deliverer, who embodies strength, becomes our song, and stands as the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan.
The cry that shattered the stillness of Golgotha—“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46)—was not a random cry of despair, but the deliberate voice of Yeshua pointing to Scripture. As He hung on the tree, bearing the sin of the world, He invoked the ancient words of David—not only identifying Himself as the righteous sufferer, but signaling that Psalm 22 was unfolding before their very eyes. In that moment, heaven and earth bore witness to a divine mystery: the Holy One, seemingly abandoned, was fulfilling a prophecy written a millennium earlier. Yeshua did not merely suffer—He fulfilled every word, every shadow, every stroke of divine prophecy.