John 15:5 I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.
Living in Israel all these years, I often encounter amazing stories of God’s deliverance and grow increasingly fond of listening to the fascinating ways He shows His power. During our tour in England a few years ago, we met a man whose family experienced a great miracle during WW1. He tells this incredible story…
That era evinced a dramatic and historic change in the tactics of warfare. Battle lines were formed by trenches and widespread use of chemical weapons often determined the outcome, since chemical warfare had not yet been banned by the Geneva convention.
During one such battle, the British faced a German attack with mustard gas. The British regiment, insufficiently equipped with gas masks, was addressed by commander Lt. Colonel Ernest Vaux (our friend’s great-great grandfather). He stood up and said to his battalion, “Friends, there is no use running… come up here and let us sing a hymn”. In that dark and desperate moment, with poison filling the air and all hope evaporating, the soldiers rose out from the trenches and began to sing the powerful lyrics of “Abide with Me” in one accord.
“Abide with me, fast falls the eventide
The darkness deepens Lord, with me abide
When other helpers fail and comforts flee
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me
Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day
Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away
Change and decay in all around I see
O Thou who changest not, abide with me
I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness
Where is death’s sting?
Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me
Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me
Abide with me, abide with me
As they sang, awaiting their undeniable fate, the wind suddenly began to blow the mustard gas in the other direction. Not a single one of those soldiers died that day. When the war was over Captain Wade (then Private Wade) recalled the miracle of that day and made a painting of the men who rose up singing “Abide with Me.” The painting entitled, “The Miracle of Ypres” features a silhouette of the Lord watching over the soldiers in that darkest hour; rescued by Him to fight again another day.
Often when it seems that all hope is lost, God will miraculously intervene for those who abide in Him. We are told in Psalm 11 that He “tests the righteous”. Though it may seem to you that His eyes are closed, be assured that He neither slumbers nor sleeps, and that abiding in Him is the securest place on Earth; so that whether He intervenes miraculously or not, you will be safe in Him, who will never leave nor forsake you.
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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.