Philippians 2:6-8 Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: But made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.
Tonight Israel will celebrate Yom Ha’atzmaut — Independence Day — and what a party! — shows, fireworks, music, dancing, everything under the sun!
But interestingly, today is a very solemn one; Israel’s Memorial Day (Yom Hazikaron), commemorating all the soldiers who died protecting the nation’s birth and continued existence. All the major television stations stopped airing their programs for twenty-four hours in honor of these men and women. At different times during the day, long loud sirens wailed all throughout the Land. Wherever anyone was as the sirens sounded, the entire population stopped whatever they were doing — even standing still on the highways, to give honor to the fallen soldiers. The dedication and camaraderie among Israelis are just amazing to witness and take part in. I have traveled to many places and I’ve never seen anything like it.
This juxtaposition of two of Israel’s national holidays speaks powerfully of the gospel. Messiah’s death purchased our freedom from sin and eternal damnation. We’ve often heard and been reminded of the cost paid for our independence by soldiers who gave their lives defending our nation. It is a beautiful and precious thing to remember when you think of the value of human life and the blessing of individual freedom. Yet our Lord willingly laid down His life for our eternal freedom and joy in a New Creation.
How much more should we give honor to His sacrificial death and then…celebrate the astounding destiny He has bestowed on us!
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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.”
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.