1 Corinthians 15:55-58 “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.
Over the weekend, the ministry lost a dear brother who suddenly died of a heart attack. In times of mourning, the realization dawned (once again) that this life is utterly fleeting ... a vapor in the wind ... and these frail human bodies in which we dwell are mortal dust. We are living in the land of the dead and dying, and only those of us who truly know and are known by the Messiah, upon our death, will enter the land of the truly living!
Mourning is the only honest and human response to the death of loved ones, and it quickens the profound realization just how precious life is. Death, and the funerals which attend it, also inspire the opportunity for serious introspection and for taking account of how we are living our lives in this world. Values, priorities, and building upon the foundation of Christ ought to occupy our minds when we encounter the stark reality that someone else has just gone to his or her reward.
When I think of funerals, I'm reminded of D.L. Moody and his attempt to write his first funeral message as a young pastor. He searched and searched the Gospels and came to the realization that every funeral service Yeshua (Jesus) attended... He resurrected the dead body. Yeshua (Jesus) was the ultimate funeral party crasher! Praise God... He said, "I am the resurrection and the life ..." [John 11:25]
Death is the ultimate wake-up call to remind us of the great message we carry ... Messiah has come, He raises the dead, and we will give explicit account for our deeds, either when we pass to the next world or when He returns. If He dwells within us, and we allow His resurrection life to inspire our words and guide our actions, everyone we encounter will have the opportunity to know and experience that He truly is "the Resurrection and the Life"!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
Last night marked the beginning of Shavuot–a feast that many Christians recognize as Pentecost, the day the Holy Spirit was poured out in Acts 2. But the roots of Shavuot stretch back much further. Long before that upper room encounter–about 1,500 years earlier–Shavuot was the day God gave the law to Moses on Mount Sinai, writing His commandments on tablets of stone.
In a world trembling with uncertainty–political unrest, economic turmoil, natural disasters–God is speaking again. Not in whispers, but with the shaking that reorders lives, redefines kingdoms, and removes everything that cannot stand in the presence of His glory. He is preparing us for a kingdom that cannot be moved. But in the midst of the shaking, there is rest — a deep, unshakable rest reserved for the people of God. Not rest as the world gives — temporary relief or distraction — but the kind that anchors the soul in the storm, the kind that is rooted in Yeshua (Jesus), our rest.