Psalms 112:6-7 Surely he shall not be moved for ever: the righteous shall be in everlasting remembrance. He shall not be afraid of evil tidings: his heart is fixed, trusting in the LORD.
This weekend, the Jewish people will celebrate the festival of Purim. This holiday commemorates Israel’s amazing reversal in Persia during the reign of King Xerxes (Ahasuerus) when Queen Esther and her uncle Mordecai gained victory for the Jews and protected them from annihilation at the hands of the evil Haman.
The irony is the news this week carries a certain irony with Iran, once the ancient kingdom of Persia, is presiding over the UN’s Disarmament Conference. Given the historical and ongoing tensions, it raises the question: might this development compel the Jewish community to take measures to ensure their own defense?
Let me share a story that took place during Purim in 2010.
In 2010, just as the festival of Purim was getting underway, a lightning bolt struck outside our house, destroying the neighborhood’s transformer and cutting off our electric power. Then, later that day, as I was driving to the Dead Sea region to pick up a package, a ferocious river torrent from the desert came out of nowhere, sideswiped my car, and nearly washed me into the Dead Sea. The river’s immense force was so powerful that it lifted the rear end of my car off the road, ripping off most of the bumper, while the front wheels struggled to maintain traction as I maneuvered the car to safety. For the next 7 hours, I was stuck between two rivers as the rains that came down over Israel. Later that night, I spoke with a police officer who informed me that a few weeks earlier a driver in similar circumstances was carried into the Dead Sea and drowned!
The lesson I learned that day was I do NOT actually see these experiences as “coincidences” but as signs and portents of things to come. We will soon be facing severe unexpected storms, which will shock and possibly dislodge us from the roads we are traveling on. But we are under Divine protection as we focus on the Lord, and our devotion rests in Him. We may be badly shaken — but He will rescue and restore us!
The message in these days of earthquakes and tsunamis is clear: “Do not fear, for I am with you, even unto the end of the age.”
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When we read the Beatitudes, we catch a glimpse of Yeshua’s heart and the values that define His Kingdom. His words unveil the kind of life that God calls blessed—marked by humility, mercy, purity of heart, a hunger for righteousness, peacemaking, and faithful endurance in the face of suffering.
We often celebrate beginnings—new chapters, breakthroughs, divine appointments. But in God’s economy, every true beginning requires a holy crossing. Before the Hebrews could enter the Promised Land, they had to leave Egypt. Before they entered the Promised Land, they had to cross over the Red Sea. And before Abraham could receive God’s promises, he had to obey a single command: “Leave.”
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.”