Revelation 5:8-10 And when He had taken the book, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb, each one having harps and golden vials full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints. And they sang a new song, saying, You are worthy to take the book and to open its seals, for You were slain and have redeemed us to God by Your blood out of every kindred and tongue and people and nation. And You made us kings and priests to our God, and we will reign over the earth.
From the beginning of Genesis (Genesis 4:4) to the end of the Bible (Revelation 22:3), there is a common theme — the Lamb! In Revelation 6 we read about the Lamb who sits in the midst of the throne — worshiped by all of heaven because the Lamb was worthy to take the book and open the seals therein. The most harmless of creatures — the object of sacrifice, becomes the authority of heaven. Isn’t it interesting that the focal point of heaven is a Lamb?
The world seeks power, fame and glory… The world’s mentality is “survival of the fittest”… This is the way “nature works”. And yet, how would a lamb fare in this competitive environment? It appears to be the weakest of all the animals, and yet, is the symbol of power and authority in the Kingdom of God! An amazing paradox. Authority in the Kingdom of God is marked and even defined by gentleness and sacrifice, in total opposition to the world’s definition.
When Yeshua died as the lamb of God — He revealed the greatness of sacrifice. Likewise, Revelation 12:11 declares of the martyrs, “They conquered by the blood of the lamb and by the word of their testimony; for they loved not their lives even unto death.” Several of Yeshua’s paradoxical statements illustrate His Kingdom priorities. “He that loses His life for my sake — shall find it”. [Matthew 10:39]. “He that seeks to be greatest in the Kingdom shall become a servant to all”. [Matthew 23:11]. Victory through death? Gain through total loss? Great stature through abject servanthood? Such are the beautiful ways of our Lord.
Meditate on the Lamb, and you will discover the greatness in humility, the authority in harmlessness, the responsibility in servanthood, the victory in surrender, and the majesty in submission to the great God of creation. In His world, servants become kings; surrender becomes victory; death turns to resurrected life. Take hold of the paradox of the Lamb — take hold of the Kingdom of Heaven!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Life wears us down. We live in a world of relentless motion, pressure, and performance. Yeshua (Jesus) doesn’t deny this. Instead, He speaks directly to those who are “weary and heavy-laden.” The Greek for “weary” (kopiao) means utterly worn out—soul-tired, not just physically fatigued. The burdens He mentions aren’t only external tasks but inward baggage: guilt, shame, expectations, and hidden wounds. Yeshua’s call isn’t merely an invitation to stop—it’s a call to come. He offers what no one else can: rest that restores.
When we read the promises of God, we must read them the way we ourselves want to be heard—in full context. Just as we expect others to understand our words in light of what we’ve said before, God expects us to interpret His promises in light of all He has revealed in His Word.
A few days ago, I shared a quote from B.J. Willhite, and today I want to delve deeper into his powerful insight. He wrote, “The law of prayer is the highest law of the universe—it can overcome the other laws by sanctioning God’s intervention. When implemented properly, the law of prayer permits God to exercise His sovereignty in a world under the dominion of a rebel with free will, in a universe governed by natural law.”
When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.
In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.
Tonight we’ll participate in the Independence Day celebration in Israel — and what a party! — shows, fireworks, music, dancing, everything under the sun!
Yesterday, Israel observed Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Remembrance Day—honoring the memory of the six million Jews who perished. Tragically, a recent poll reveals that nearly half of Israelis fear the possibility of another Holocaust. In light of this sobering reality, I want to share a powerful story of one remarkable woman who rescued 2,500 Jewish children from the ghettos during World War II.