Mark 4:23-25 If any man has ears to hear, let him hear. 24 And He said to them, Take heed what you hear. With that measure which you measure, it shall be measured to you. And to you who hear, more shall be given. 25 For he who has, more shall be given to him; and he who has not, from him shall be taken even that which he has.
The Shema is recited every Shabbat in Israel and throughout the world: “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.” The emphasis is on hearing—not just with our ears but our hearts. That same emphasis runs through the Gospels, where Yeshua (Jesus) repeatedly says, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” This isn’t just a phrase; it’s a life-changing command.
In Mark 4:23-25, Yeshua challenges us to heed how we hear. He’s teaching that how we listen to His voice determines how much we receive from Him. When we truly hear what the Spirit is saying, not just with our ears but with faith and obedience, the Word comes alive. And here’s the promise: the more we listen and respond, the more He’ll pour into our lives.
That’s why I always begin my messages with a prayer for listening ears—because hearing isn’t automatic. It takes an open heart and a willingness to let the Spirit work. When we hear His Word with that kind of readiness, the message doesn’t just land—it multiplies! It bears fruit in ways we can’t even imagine.
But here’s the warning: if we ignore His voice or fail to act on it, even what we think we have can slip away. It’s not enough to hear; we must also do. Faithful hearing leads to faithful action, and that’s where the blessing is. When we heed what we hear, we’re not just enriched—we’re transformed. We go from spiritually rich to spiritually richer.
So today, let’s ask ourselves: Are we truly hearing Him? Are we listening with hearts ready to obey? Because when we do, His blessings don’t just add up—they multiply!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
Last night marked the beginning of Shavuot–a feast that many Christians recognize as Pentecost, the day the Holy Spirit was poured out in Acts 2. But the roots of Shavuot stretch back much further. Long before that upper room encounter–about 1,500 years earlier–Shavuot was the day God gave the law to Moses on Mount Sinai, writing His commandments on tablets of stone.
In a world trembling with uncertainty–political unrest, economic turmoil, natural disasters–God is speaking again. Not in whispers, but with the shaking that reorders lives, redefines kingdoms, and removes everything that cannot stand in the presence of His glory. He is preparing us for a kingdom that cannot be moved. But in the midst of the shaking, there is rest — a deep, unshakable rest reserved for the people of God. Not rest as the world gives — temporary relief or distraction — but the kind that anchors the soul in the storm, the kind that is rooted in Yeshua (Jesus), our rest.