Luke 8:43-47 And a woman having a flow of blood twelve years, who had spent all her livelihood on physicians, and could not be healed by anyone, Came up behind Him, and touched the border of His garment: and immediately her flow of blood stopped. And Yeshua (Jesus) said, “Who touched Me? When all denied it, Peter and those that were with Him said, “Master, the multitude are crowding and pressing on You, and You say, ‘Who touched Me?'” And Yeshua (Jesus) said, “Somebody touched Me: for I perceive that power had gone out of Me.” And when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling, and fell down before Him, she declared unto Him before all the people the reason she had touched Him, and how she had been immediately healed.
Isn’t it interesting that of the multitudes thronging and pressing toward Yeshua (Jesus), only one really touched Him? What made Yeshua notice her among all the rest?
This woman was desperate. She had reached the end of her rope. She had probably spent all her money visiting every doctor she could find and done all she could do to help herself in the natural realm. I think she finally realized that what she truly needed was a touch from the Lord. The word “power” in this passage, in Greek, is “dunamis”. Dunamis is the word from which the word dynamite is derived. As she reached for Him, dynamite power flowed out of the Lord and radically healed and changed her!
Somehow, the world has us convinced that the solution to all our problems come from it! We tend to look to people and material things to satisfy our earthly desires instead of looking to the Lord!
Do you need a touch from the Lord today? How much are you longing for Him? Let’s abandon the ways we’ve been reaching out to the world for strength — and determine to reach out to the Lord in faith and believe!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
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.