Jonah 2:2 And he said: “I cried out to the Lord because of my affliction, And He answered me. “Out of the belly of Sheol I cried, And You heard my voice.
3 For You cast me into the deep, Into the heart of the seas, And the floods surrounded me; All Your billows and Your waves passed over me.
7 “When my soul fainted within me, I remembered the Lord; And my prayer went up to You, Into Your holy temple.
9 But I will sacrifice to You With the voice of thanksgiving; I will pay what I have vowed. Salvation is of the Lord.”
Jonah now acknowledges that God put him where he is, and he accepts His discipline. “Sheol” is the “grave”, the “pit” or the “abode of the dead”. Did Jonah die, or was he only nearly dead from three days of fish stomach acid, and little or no air? The text doesn’t say; only that if he didn’t actually leave his body, he came as close as a man can get to it; three days worth. In this nebulous and miserable place Jonah cried out, probably from the deepest depths of his agonized soul…he cried out to the Lord.
First, he gave thanks; quite amazing, but very plausible for a true man of God who has come to his senses. Anyone who truly loves the Lord is grateful for His discipline, painful as it may be. And finally, Jonah repented and consented to “pay what he had vowed”. What this vow was we can only speculate. It may have something to do with a promise of devoted service in connection with his calling as a prophet of the Most High; or it may have been a promise he decided to make right there in the fish’s belly. In any case, he was coming into agreement with the will of God once again. It must have been a great relief.
Jonah then prophesied once again; “Salvation is of the Lord!” Hallelujah! Jonah knew this now in a way and depth unprecedented until this moment of “resurrection”. His near-death experience gave him a depth of revelation of God’s power to save that few of us will ever experience. It will prove to be tremendously effective for the prophet’s future ministry.
“Salvation is of the Lord.” It starts and ends with God. How well do we know this? How often do we relearn it? Jonah’s experience in the belly of a great fish cleared and focused his mind toward what matters most in all this world. In the terrifying darkness, he realized the folly of resisting God’s reality and will. What might we need to sacrifice or endure to reach that level of conviction? Can we honestly pray that the Lord would have His way with us in the midst of all the little ways we “run away” from Him? Jonah’s “quiet place” was forced upon him. But up to now, for most of us, drawing near to the Lord for deeper revelation is still a choice we can make.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Life wears us down. We live in a world of relentless motion, pressure, and performance. Yeshua (Jesus) doesn’t deny this. Instead, He speaks directly to those who are “weary and heavy-laden.” The Greek for “weary” (kopiao) means utterly worn out—soul-tired, not just physically fatigued. The burdens He mentions aren’t only external tasks but inward baggage: guilt, shame, expectations, and hidden wounds. Yeshua’s call isn’t merely an invitation to stop—it’s a call to come. He offers what no one else can: rest that restores.
When we read the promises of God, we must read them the way we ourselves want to be heard—in full context. Just as we expect others to understand our words in light of what we’ve said before, God expects us to interpret His promises in light of all He has revealed in His Word.
A few days ago, I shared a quote from B.J. Willhite, and today I want to delve deeper into his powerful insight. He wrote, “The law of prayer is the highest law of the universe—it can overcome the other laws by sanctioning God’s intervention. When implemented properly, the law of prayer permits God to exercise His sovereignty in a world under the dominion of a rebel with free will, in a universe governed by natural law.”
When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.
In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.
Tonight we’ll participate in the Independence Day celebration in Israel — and what a party! — shows, fireworks, music, dancing, everything under the sun!
Yesterday, Israel observed Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Remembrance Day—honoring the memory of the six million Jews who perished. Tragically, a recent poll reveals that nearly half of Israelis fear the possibility of another Holocaust. In light of this sobering reality, I want to share a powerful story of one remarkable woman who rescued 2,500 Jewish children from the ghettos during World War II.