Joshua 1:2-3 “Moses my servant is dead. Now therefore arise, go over this Jordan, you and all this people, into the land that I am giving to them, to the people of Israel. 3 Every place that the sole of your foot will tread upon I have given to you, just as I promised to Moses.
After Moses’ death, God commissioned Joshua to lead Israel into Canaan—a real place that carried profound spiritual meaning. Canaan was not a picture of heaven, for it was filled with enemies, obstacles, and the ongoing need for faith and obedience. Instead, it symbolized the believer’s journey: a life marked by conflict and conquest, failure and faithfulness, struggle and surrender. Just as Joshua was told to rise and cross the Jordan, every follower of Christ is called to move beyond mere spiritual survival into a victorious, Spirit-empowered walk—a life that embraces the fullness of God’s promises with courage, rest, and purpose.
Joshua is the book of fulfillment—the moment the children of Israel realized that God’s promises were no longer just declared, but now had to be possessed. It reflects every believer’s journey: while some remain stuck in the wilderness of spiritual frustration and defeat, others move forward into the “Promised Land” of a Spirit-filled, surrendered life. The difference isn’t about salvation, but about how fully we yield to God’s call to go deeper.
Taking the land of Canaan first and foremost represents victory—not the absence of battle, but triumph in the midst of it. Yeshua (Jesus) offers more than just forgiveness; He promises authority over sin. “Sin shall not have dominion over you.” (Romans 6:10-14) By the power of the Holy Spirit, believers are empowered to live as overcomers. (1 John 5:4-5)
Taking the land also represents realization—when God’s promises move from abstract truth to lived experience. The Holy Spirit brings spiritual realities to life within the believer, making them deeply personal and powerfully real. Love, joy, strength, and intimate fellowship with God are not just concepts—they become felt, known, and tangible.
Entering and possessing the land symbolizes a life of power. Just as Jericho’s walls fell—not by human strength, but by God’s command—so the believer is given spiritual authority to walk in boldness, victory, and fruitfulness, it is not by might or by effort, but by the power of the Spirit (Zechariah 4:6; Luke 10:19; 2 Corinthians 10:4-5) that strongholds fall and the life of promise unfolds.
The call to enter the land is God’s invitation to every believer to move from wandering to walking, from surviving to thriving, from promise to possession. This is not a distant idea but a present reality for those willing to trust, surrender, and obey. The inheritance is before you—rich with victory, rest, power, and divine presence. But it must be seized by faith. Just as God told Joshua, He tells us: “Every place that the sole of your foot shall tread upon, that have I given unto you.” Step forward. Cross your Jordan. Claim your inheritance. The fullness of God’s promises awaits the fully surrendered heart.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
Over the past two devotionals, we heard the song of the redeemed and stood at the wells of salvation. We saw how strength, song, and salvation flow from Yeshua Himself — how the joy of drawing from His presence is not just a poetic promise but a lifeline for our day. Yet today, we stand at a prophetic threshold. Something has shifted. Something has broken open. We are not only being refreshed — we are being awakened and called.
Yesterday, we heard the anthem of the redeemed rise like a trumpet blast: “The LORD is my strength and song, and He has become my salvation.” We explored how this was more than personal — it was prophetic, Messianic, and generational. We saw Yeshua not only as our Deliverer but as the very embodiment of God’s strength, the melody of our praise, and the fulfillment of every promise. We stood in awe as tents of rejoicing rose in the midst of warfare, and households became sanctuaries of celebration. But today, we go deeper — we step to the well.
There’s a reason this verse resounds like a national anthem of the redeemed. It’s not just a personal declaration—it’s a generational cry that echoes back to Moses at the Red Sea (Exodus 15:2) and forward to the final deliverance of Israel. The Hebrew word for salvation—Yeshua—makes this verse unmistakably Messianic. It isn’t a vague deliverance. It is the revelation of Yeshua (Jesus), the Deliverer, who embodies strength, becomes our song, and stands as the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan.
The cry that shattered the stillness of Golgotha—“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46)—was not a random cry of despair, but the deliberate voice of Yeshua pointing to Scripture. As He hung on the tree, bearing the sin of the world, He invoked the ancient words of David—not only identifying Himself as the righteous sufferer, but signaling that Psalm 22 was unfolding before their very eyes. In that moment, heaven and earth bore witness to a divine mystery: the Holy One, seemingly abandoned, was fulfilling a prophecy written a millennium earlier. Yeshua did not merely suffer—He fulfilled every word, every shadow, every stroke of divine prophecy.