Isaiah 11:11-12 It shall come to pass in that day That the Lord shall set His hand again the second time to recover the remnant of His people who are left, From Assyria and Egypt, From Pathros and Cush, From Elam and Shinar, From Hamath and the islands of the sea. He will set up a banner for the nations, And will assemble the outcasts of Israel, And gather together the dispersed of Judah From the four corners of the earth.
Jeremiah 31:37 Thus saith the LORD; If heaven above can be measured, and the foundations of the earth searched out beneath, I will also cast off all the seed of Israel for all that they have done, saith the LORD.
Song of Solomon 2:4 He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.
In 70 AD Jerusalem finally fell to the mighty Roman army led by Titus after a long siege. To commemorate the Roman victory over the Jewish rebellion, an arch was erected in Rome known to this day as the Arch of Titus. This famous arch depicts the fall of the Temple and its artifacts paraded in a processional described by the historian Josephus’ in his account, “The Jewish War.”
The arch of Titus stands to this day, as a horrific monument to the defeat of the Jewish people. Yet history and God have a way of inverting such things since when the nation of Israel was reborn in 1948, the exact depiction of the Menorah on the arch of Titus was used as a symbol of Israel’s rebirth.
While the Roman empire has long been vanquished, the nation of Israel has remained and been resurrected despite utter defeat and decimation. How could this tiny nation survive 2,000 years of dispersion and persecution? A promise (Jeremiah 31) and a prophetic sign are indicated by this “banner to the nations” of Isaiah 11.
And just as the symbol of the menorah on the Roman victory arch has been resurrected to symbolize Israel’s rebirth, this little nation of Israel is also a banner and a sign for us. Israel is a monumental marker indicating our time in history (God’s story) and the absolute surety of God’s promises. Her resurrection signals the time of the end, the last of the Last Days, and the soon coming of Messiah for His Bride.
The Roman empire expressed terrible power and pretension with persecution and plunder, appearing victorious for a season. In these days of the final “Beast” system, the enemy of our souls is also marching, triumphantly corrupting culture and government and destroying righteous foundations. Persecution of God’s saints is increasing greatly, and we may need serious endurance. But we also have a “banner.” His banner over us is love, which endures all things and never fails.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
Just as a bird needs both wings to fly, a victorious life requires both faith and obedience. In Joshua, God calls Joshua to lead Israel into the Promised Land, not just with bold confidence but with complete dependence on His Word. Faith believes what God says; obedience acts upon it. One without the other stalls the journey. This moment wasn’t just about crossing into the promise land — it was about stepping into covenant reality, where trust in God’s promise was matched by surrender to God’s command.