1 Cor. 15:51-54 Behold, I show you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet: for the trumpet will sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, "Death is swallowed up in victory."
Earlier this week, we celebrated the Biblical festival of Yom Teruah (Feast of Trumpets) otherwise known as Rosh Ha Shana. What's interesting about Rosh Ha Shana (the Jewish celebration of the New Year), is that it doesn't fall on the first day of the first month. It actually falls on the first day of the seventh month! It's difficult for outsiders to understand this concept, but if we study how the Jewish year begins and how God is outlining this age according to the Jewish feasts it all makes sense.
The first month of the Jewish year begins with Passover. Two thousand years ago, the new age began with the crucifixion of Yeshua (Jesus) on the Cross on Passover! Next, Messiah rose from the dead precisely on day of the celebration of first fruits. Then, fifty days later, the Feast of Shavout (Pentecost) began the celebration of the harvest season. This day marked the outpouring of the Holy Spirit and the beginnings of the first harvest right here in Jerusalem as three thousand souls came into the kingdom!
Now, here we are, in the midst of the summer harvest -- the harvest of souls, awaiting the great sound of the trumpet! When the trumpet sounds -- it shall be the beginning of a new age when "this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality!"
So as we celebrate Rosh Ha Shana or Yom Teruah (Feast of Trumpets), it's a reminder that this age is soon coming to a close -- that the summer will soon end and there will be no more days to work. Let's take heed the sound of the shofar and rise to this awesome occasion!
We live this life only once, so let's do what we need to do while we still can! Let's not put off the good we are called to do! Don't put off forgiving others -- forgive now! Don't put off sharing with that neighbor with whom you've been wanting to share for years -- share now! Don't put off going forth and doing the great things God has called you to do -- do them now! These are the final days of the harvest -- let's get out into the field and finish the work that needs done so that we might all be able to rejoice together in the end!!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]The Hebrew phrase “z’roah moshel lo” paints the picture of an arm that governs with both strength and care. The same Z’roah that brought Israel out of Egypt in power now establishes righteous order and sustains His people in love. Deliverance without rulership is incomplete; the Redeemer becomes the King — and the King rules as a Shepherd. The Arm does not act independently but moves in perfect submission to the Head, carrying out the will of the Father.
I’ll be doing a series on the “Arm of God,” beginning with this first message — The Arm that Redeems. The Hebrew Z’roah (זְרוֹעַ) means “arm” or “strength,” and in ancient Hebrew culture, the arm symbolizes active power in motion — strength applied for a purpose. In the Exodus account, God tells Moses He will redeem Israel “with an outstretched arm” (bizroa netuyah). This was not poetic metaphor; it was God’s declaration of decisive intervention. The Z’roah is the covenant-keeping arm that moves history, enforces promises, and breaks oppression. Every Pesach (Passover), during the seder — the festive meal of remembrance — the roasted lamb shank bone, the Z’roah, rests on the plate as a silent yet powerful witness to God’s mighty deliverance.
These closing verses of Psalm 118 begin with an unshakable proclamation: “The LORD is God.” In Hebrew, it’s emphatic — YHVH, He is El — the declaration that all authority, holiness, and sovereignty belong to Him alone. Yet this is not just a statement of who He is — it’s a testimony of what He has done: “He has made His light to shine upon us.” This light is more than the glow of the sun — it is the revelation of His presence, the warmth of His favor, and the piercing truth that chases away every shadow. His light doesn’t simply illuminate — it transforms.
Psalm 118:24 is not merely about enjoying a new day — it is a prophetic declaration of a divinely appointed moment. “This is the day the LORD has made” speaks of a kairos moment in history when heaven and earth converge. It points to the day when Messiah would be revealed, salvation would walk into Jerusalem, and God’s covenant plan would take a dramatic step forward. This is not the casual celebration of a sunrise — it is the joyful response to God’s redemptive unfolding.
These verses capture one of the most profound Messianic truths in all of Scripture. What man cast aside, God exalted. What the builders saw as flawed and unfit, God chose as the foundation of His eternal plan. Yeshua (Jesus), the rejected One, is the very cornerstone upon which salvation, identity, and destiny are built. This is more than a theological concept — it’s a divine reversal that reveals the heart of redemption. Rejection by man does not disqualify–it often qualifies you for God’s greatest purposes.
These verses are far more than ancient lyrics — they are a spiritual invitation. The psalmist doesn’t just admire the gate — he pleads for it to open. “Open to me the gates of righteousness…” This is the cry of a heart that longs for access to God, not by merit, but by mercy. In Hebrew thought, gates represent transition points — thresholds between the common and the holy, the outside and the inner court, the temporal and the eternal. These are not man-made doors — they are divine entrances into the presence and promises of the LORD.
As we continue our study in Psalm 118, I want to take a deep dive into verses 17-18, where the psalmist makes one of the boldest declarations in all of Scripture: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD.” This isn’t the voice of someone untouched by pain — it’s the cry of someone who has been through the fire and come out declaring God’s faithfulness. This statement is not a denial of suffering; it’s a defiance of death. It’s the resolve of a heart that’s been chastened, refined, and pressed, yet remains confident in the God who preserves life — not just for survival, but for purpose.