Php 1:21 For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.
I happened (on rare occasion) the other day to see a CNN headline, “Health Officials Brace for Three Major Viruses this Fall”. Immediately, I thought, “Not again!” Yet, scouring the headlines, it now appears that several colleges are instituting mask mandates even though there isn’t a case of illness yet. While the world is being prepared for an “outbreak” of disease, I’m hoping we may learn a lesson from history so that, perhaps, we’ll see an “outbreak” of revival!
Church history reveals that God used pandemics to test the saints, demonstrate their faith, courage, and love, and dramatically advance the gospel. The Antonine Plague in the 2nd century lasted over 10 years, resulting in at least 5 million deaths. The Plague of Cyprian in the 3rd century devastated the population of Alexandria, dropping it from 500,000 to 190,000.
While pagan priests were fleeing the plague and leaving the sick to die, it was the steadfast faith of the saints that cared for the sick in the face of death. This rarely acknowledged Christian heroism radically transformed the Roman Empire, leading to the eradication of the pagan gods and eventually to a massive social transformation.
Cyprian, the bishop of Carthage, witnessed and described the atmosphere of the time:
“There is nothing remarkable in cherishing merely our own people with the due attentions of love, but that one might become perfect, he who should do something more than heathen men or publicans; overcoming evil with good, and practicing a merciful kindness like that of God, he should love his enemies as well…Thus the good was done to all men, not merely to the household of faith.”
“By the terrors of mortality and of the times, lukewarm men are heartened, the listless nerved, the sluggish awakened; deserters are compelled to return; heathens brought to believe; the congregation of established believers is called to rest; fresh and numerous champions are banded in heartier strength for the conflict, and having come into warfare in the season of death, will fight without fear of death, when the battle comes.”
Historians noted that the Christians’ compassion and devotion to tending the sick during the pandemics caused the pagan world to collapse and saw an explosive growth of Christianity with many coming to faith.
Our brother Paul wrote, “For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” [Philippians 1:21] Death threats, which came to him in many forms, did not deter him at all from his divine purpose in the Gospel; they simply became part of his amazing testimony, bringing innumerable souls to the revelation of the Messiah. Cyprian’s marvelous account of fearless and faith-filled saints exemplifies the power and love of Christ. If the above headline is true, let’s seize the opportunity.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]King David wrote these words generations before the empty tomb shook the foundations of death. At first glance, Psalm 16 reads like a personal prayer of trust — a yearning for security and closeness with God. But beneath the surface, the Spirit was revealing something deeper, something eternal: a promise not just for David, but for all of us.
The majestic Messianic prophecy of Isaiah 9 culminates in a powerful declaration: “The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this.” Not might. Not maybe. Not if we work hard enough. It will be done — because God Himself is passionate to see it through. The Hebrew word for “zeal” here is קִנְאָה (kin’ah), which also means jealousy or burning passion. This is not passive interest — it’s the fiery determination of the LORD of Hosts to establish His Kingdom. The same fiery zeal that struck Egypt with plagues—shattering the power of false gods, that parted the Red Sea and made a way where there was none, that birthed a nation from the womb of slavery, and that drove the Son of God to the cross at Calvary — is the very zeal that will fulfill every promise declared in Isaiah 9.
In a world weary from political upheaval, moral confusion, and fleeting peace, Isaiah offers us a vision of something profoundly different—an ever-increasing kingdom ruled by a King whose justice is not compromised, whose peace is not fleeting, and whose throne is eternally secure. The phrase “of the increase of His government and peace there will be no end” speaks not just of duration, but of expansion—a kingdom that doesn’t plateau, doesn’t weaken, and doesn’t shrink back in the face of darkness. Instead, it advances, multiplies, and transforms.
In the Hebraic understanding, a name isn’t just a label—it reveals essence, identity, and destiny. Isaiah doesn’t say these are merely descriptions of the Messiah; he says His Name shall be called — meaning this is who He is. When we declare these names, we are not offering poetic praise — we are calling upon real attributes of the living King. In just one verse, the prophet unveils the depth of Messiah’s personhood, showing us that this child is no ordinary child. He is the fulfillment of heaven’s promise and the revelation of God’s nature.
In a world wearied by the failures of men, Isaiah 9:6 offers a startling promise of hope and strength: “The government shall be upon His shoulder.” This is not the language of politics as we know it — it’s the language of divine dominion. The Hebrew word for “government” here is misrah (מִשְׂרָה), a word so unique it appears only in these two verses—Isaiah 9:6 and 9:7. Unlike more common Hebrew words for government — mamlachah or memshalah, misrah speaks of a rare and elevated rule—divinely ordained, gentle in character, and eternal in scope. This is a government not imposed, but carried. Not tyrannical, but righteous and restorative.
The prophet Isaiah begins with language so familiar that it’s often read too quickly. Yet within this brief phrase lies a depth of mystery and majesty that anchors the entire gospel. “For unto us a Child is born” speaks of an earthly event–Messiah’s humanity. He was born as all men are born, taking on flesh, entering a specific culture, time, and lineage. The Hebrew word for “born” (yalad) reinforces His full identification with us. This is the miracle of the incarnation: God wrapped in the vulnerability of a newborn child.
When the Lord called us to be His ambassadors, He didn’t merely give us a message — He gave us a lifestyle to embody it. An ambassador is not just a messenger, but a living representation of the Kingdom they serve. That means our behavior, words, and example all matter deeply.