Psalm 85:6-7 Will You not revive us again, That Your people may rejoice in You? Show us Your mercy, Lord, And grant us Your salvation.
The revivalist D.L. Moody was on vacation in England from his ministry in Chicago. At one point during his sabbatical there, a local pastor prevailed upon Moody to speak at his parish church. So D.L. went to preach the next Sunday morning. That afternoon he recorded in his journal that it was the deadest crowd he had ever seen and the only thing worse than preaching to those people was that he had promised to speak again the same night.
But that night, midway through his sermon something happened. The people started to come to life, and Moody felt compelled to ask if anyone would like to become a Christian. Many people stood up. He was taken aback, “Maybe you don’t understand what I am asking. So when we are dismissed if you want to become a Christian come over to this little room and meet with me.” When the service was over, D.L went to the room and it was packed, and many became believers.
Now he was on vacation, and so next day, Moody boarded a train for Ireland…but the Lord had other plans. Disembarking in Ireland he found a message awaiting him, “Come back. Revival has broken out.” So Moody returned to the church and preached for 10 straight nights and over 400 people came to the Lord. Moody was perplexed. How could he have known that an 80-year-old widow named Mary Ann Adeland had read one of his sermons in the newspaper and begun praying every day that God would bring D.L. Moody to her church?
We might well wonder what this thing is about prayer…especially prayer in the secret place. How does it work? Why does it work? A little old widow’s love and concern for her spiritually dead neighbors inspires her to pray relentlessly and specifically, and the vacation plans of a great revivalist are adjusted for a local harvest, a God-orchestrated vacation revival for D.L. Moody, right in her hometown! Believers pray because they love, and little passionate souls like Mary Ann Adeland are hidden gems in the Lord’s crown. How many spiritually dead neighbors do you have? If you see them with spiritual eyes, and you truly love them, consider your sister Mary Ann, her deep concern… and how the Lord channeled one of His trusted servants right into her neighborhood for a local revival.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]The Hebrew phrase “z’roah moshel lo” paints the picture of an arm that governs with both strength and care. The same Z’roah that brought Israel out of Egypt in power now establishes righteous order and sustains His people in love. Deliverance without rulership is incomplete; the Redeemer becomes the King — and the King rules as a Shepherd. The Arm does not act independently but moves in perfect submission to the Head, carrying out the will of the Father.
I’ll be doing a series on the “Arm of God,” beginning with this first message — The Arm that Redeems. The Hebrew Z’roah (זְרוֹעַ) means “arm” or “strength,” and in ancient Hebrew culture, the arm symbolizes active power in motion — strength applied for a purpose. In the Exodus account, God tells Moses He will redeem Israel “with an outstretched arm” (bizroa netuyah). This was not poetic metaphor; it was God’s declaration of decisive intervention. The Z’roah is the covenant-keeping arm that moves history, enforces promises, and breaks oppression. Every Pesach (Passover), during the seder — the festive meal of remembrance — the roasted lamb shank bone, the Z’roah, rests on the plate as a silent yet powerful witness to God’s mighty deliverance.
These closing verses of Psalm 118 begin with an unshakable proclamation: “The LORD is God.” In Hebrew, it’s emphatic — YHVH, He is El — the declaration that all authority, holiness, and sovereignty belong to Him alone. Yet this is not just a statement of who He is — it’s a testimony of what He has done: “He has made His light to shine upon us.” This light is more than the glow of the sun — it is the revelation of His presence, the warmth of His favor, and the piercing truth that chases away every shadow. His light doesn’t simply illuminate — it transforms.
Psalm 118:24 is not merely about enjoying a new day — it is a prophetic declaration of a divinely appointed moment. “This is the day the LORD has made” speaks of a kairos moment in history when heaven and earth converge. It points to the day when Messiah would be revealed, salvation would walk into Jerusalem, and God’s covenant plan would take a dramatic step forward. This is not the casual celebration of a sunrise — it is the joyful response to God’s redemptive unfolding.
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.