Romans 13:11-14 And do this, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep; for now our salvation is nearer than when we first believed. 12 The night is far spent, the day is at hand. Therefore let us cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light. 13 Let us walk properly, as in the day, not in revelry and drunkenness, not in lewdness and lust, not in strife and envy. 14 But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to fulfill its lusts.
For nearly twenty years, Romans 13:12 has been my signature verse on every email I send. For me, it’s a constant reminder that the long, dark night of this world is almost over, and the Day of the Lord is just about to dawn.
Paul tells us to cast off the works of darkness. The Greek word he uses, apotithemi, means to throw something off yourself, to take it away and remove it completely.
Imagine this: you come to the realization that the clothes you’re wearing are filthy, soaked with disease, bacteria, and viruses—all designed to harm you and even destroy you. What do you do? You don’t keep them on! Of course not! You strip them off and throw them straight into the fire! That’s what Paul is saying here about the “works of darkness.” Those sinful habits, those weights, and distractions that drag us down—they’ve got to go.
But don’t stop there! Paul says to “put on the armor of light” (verse 12) and to put on Yeshua HaMashiach (Jesus Christ) (verse 14). In Paul’s time, this language would have been understood as putting on the Lord’s glory, His divine majesty, and His righteousness—like clothing fit for royalty. It’s a transformation, not just in how we live but in how we reflect His light and His holiness.
Let’s be challenged today … don’t make any provision for the flesh. Don’t give sin a foothold or a chance to creep back in. Instead, clothe yourself in the Lord’s majesty and glory and walk as His ambassador of light in this dark world.
Every time you cast off the dead things in your life and put on His glory, you’re not only living for Him—you’re helping to prepare the way for His soon return. What a privilege to be part of that! The night is almost over — let’s be ready for the dawn.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]As we continue our journey through the life of Elijah, let us take heart in this: Elijah was a man just like us. He was not born with heroic strength or unshakable resolve. He knew weakness, fear, and moments of failure—the same struggles we face. And yet, this one man, by faith, stood alone against a tide of sin and idolatry. By faith, he turned a nation back to God.
Over the past few years, some leaders who once inspired many have fallen into scandals that have brought harm and confusion to the body of Christ. In moments like these, it’s easy to feel disillusioned or lost, as if the work of God depends on human vessels who have failed us. But I’m reminded of how Elisha responded when Elijah was taken from him. His eyes were not on the departing servant but on the living God. “Where is the Lord God of Elijah?” he cried — not, “Where is Elijah?” That cry holds a lesson for us today: our hope and strength are not in human leaders, but in the God who works through them—and who remains faithful even when men falter.
The day before Israel launched Operation Rising Lion, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu stood before the ancient stones of the Western Wall and placed a prayer in its crevices. He chose Numbers 23:24—a verse that declares a timeless truth: God calls Israel and His people everywhere to rise with strength, purpose, and courage, no matter what challenges they face.
When we read the Beatitudes, we catch a glimpse of Yeshua’s heart and the values that define His Kingdom. His words unveil the kind of life that God calls blessed—marked by humility, mercy, purity of heart, a hunger for righteousness, peacemaking, and faithful endurance in the face of suffering.
We often celebrate beginnings—new chapters, breakthroughs, divine appointments. But in God’s economy, every true beginning requires a holy crossing. Before the Hebrews could enter the Promised Land, they had to leave Egypt. Before they entered the Promised Land, they had to cross over the Red Sea. And before Abraham could receive God’s promises, he had to obey a single command: “Leave.”
When the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years, they traversed a rugged, unpredictable landscape — mile after mile of mountains, valleys, rocks, and desert sands — as they journeyed from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land.
For many, God remains a theory—an idea borrowed from tradition, deduced from the cosmos, or tucked quietly into the corners of a creed. He is believed in from afar, but is rarely encountered. Even among believers, it’s not uncommon to live with a distant reverence for God while lacking a vibrant, personal communion with Him.