John 16:23-24 In that day you will ask nothing of me. Truly, truly, I say to you, whatever you ask of the Father in my name, he will give it to you. Until now you have asked nothing in my name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full.
As we ask in His name, and we see our prayers being answered, we realize how real and faithful our God is. But I want to focus on the life that is overflowing with JOY!
Have you ever met someone who just seemed radiant with joy? Joyful people always seem to be overflowing with life. No matter the obstacles the enemy throws their way, they always seem to live in victory. You’ll also find that they are spending time in the prayer closet…because the outflow of prayer is JOY!
When we commune with God at that intimate level, dwelling in His presence, as the Psalmist says, “In your presence is fullness of joy!” [Psalm 16:11]
Prayer is intimately connected to the joy in your life. If you’re struggling with anxiety about the future, or the present, or a deep concern that is robbing your joy … it’s time to enter your prayer closet, set the time apart, and determine to enter His presence. The Lord’s joy will strengthen you from that place. Try it and see.
Copyright 1999-2025 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
How to display the above article within the Worthy Suite WordPress Plugin.
[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]A few days ago, I shared a quote from B.J. Willhite, and today I want to delve deeper into his powerful insight. He wrote, “The law of prayer is the highest law of the universe—it can overcome the other laws by sanctioning God’s intervention. When implemented properly, the law of prayer permits God to exercise His sovereignty in a world under the dominion of a rebel with free will, in a universe governed by natural law.”
When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.
In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.
Tonight we’ll participate in the Independence Day celebration in Israel — and what a party! — shows, fireworks, music, dancing, everything under the sun!
Yesterday, Israel observed Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Remembrance Day—honoring the memory of the six million Jews who perished. Tragically, a recent poll reveals that nearly half of Israelis fear the possibility of another Holocaust. In light of this sobering reality, I want to share a powerful story of one remarkable woman who rescued 2,500 Jewish children from the ghettos during World War II.
One night a house caught fire and a young boy was forced to flee flames by jumping to the ground from the roof. His father stood on the ground below with outstretched arms, calling to his son, “Jump! I’ll catch you.” But the boy was afraid — he couldn’t see his father — all he could see was flame, smoke, and blackness. He was afraid. Still, his father kept yelling: “Jump son! I will catch you!” But the boy refused, crying, “Daddy, I can’t see you!” His father replied, “It’s ok son — I can see you — and that’s all that matters!”
After forty years of wandering in the wilderness, Israel finally crossed into the Promised Land—on the 10th day of Nissan, the very day they had been commanded to choose their Passover lamb [Exodus 12:3 , Joshua 4:19]. They couldn’t enter into their inheritance until a lamb was chosen—a powerful foreshadowing of the more excellent Lamb to come, in preparation for the Passover [Joshua 5:10], they were about to observe at Gilgal.