Deuteronomy 5:15 And remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the LORD your God brought you out from there by a mighty hand and by an outstretched arm; therefore the LORD your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day.
Isaiah 40:11 He will feed His flock like a shepherd; He will gather the lambs with His arm, And carry them in His bosom, And gently lead those who are with young.
We have come to the final meditation in this journey through the Z’roah, the Arm of the LORD. From the Arm that redeemed Israel out of Egypt, to the Arm that pierced the dragon, to the Arm that is coming with reward — all of these revelations lead us here: the Arm that brings His people into rest.
Redemption is not complete until rest is secured. God’s arm not only broke Pharaoh’s power; it also gathered His people into covenant fellowship. Shabbat is the covenant sign of this rest — not a burden to bear, but a gift to receive. Israel was commanded to stop striving, not because they had accomplished enough, but because God’s Arm had already done the work. Sabbath is God’s weekly reminder: “You are not slaves. You are Mine, and you are carried.”
Isaiah’s vision shows the same truth: the Arm that split seas and struck empires now cradles lambs and carries them close. This is not a contradiction, but a completion. The Warrior Arm clears the way so the Shepherd Arm may gather His flock. In Messiah, the fullness is revealed: He conquered death, and then He spoke the invitation — “Come to Me… and I will give you rest.”
Every Shabbat, every quiet surrender to His finished work, is a rehearsal of eternity. It declares to the world and to our restless hearts: “The battle is already won. The Arm has finished the work.” And one day soon, when He returns, that rest will be eternal — the final Sabbath of God, where His people dwell in His embrace forever.
This is the last word of the Arm: rest. Not a legal duty, but a covenant delight. Not striving, but surrender. Not fear, but being held. The Arm that shattered your enemy is the Arm that now carries you home. Stop struggling. Rest in His embrace — for you are not only redeemed, you are kept.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]On July 4th, America remembers a bold declaration — a break from tyranny, a longing for a better government, and the birth of a nation built on liberty. The Founders risked everything to establish a new way of life, one where freedom could flourish. Their cry was clear: “We will no longer be ruled by kings who oppress–we will be governed by laws that reflect liberty and justice.”
In a world full of uncertainty, this verse from Romans stands like a lighthouse in the storm: “The God of hope…” Not just the God who gives hope, but the very source of it. When everything around us seems shaken — economies falter, nations rage, relationships strain — it is the God of hope who remains unshaken and unchanging.
When Yeshua (Jesus) spoke these words not only to the seventy He sent ahead of Him, but to every disciple who follows Him into the world, it’s a striking picture: fields overflowing with a harvest, ready to be gathered. The problem isn’t the readiness of the harvest — it’s the shortage of workers willing to go.
This piercing question opens Psalm 11 like a cry from the heart in troubled times. It’s a question we ask when law and order collapse, when truth is ridiculed, and when those who do evil seem to triumph. The foundations — the principles of righteousness, justice, and truth that uphold society — are under siege. And it begs the question: What can God’s people do when everything righteous seems to be crumbling?
After one of the greatest spiritual victories in all of Scripture–calling down fire from heaven on Mount Carmel and turning the hearts of Israel back to God–Elijah finds himself blindsided by fear.
Elijah heard what no one else did — a storm was coming. Though the sky was still blue and the ground still cracked from years of drought, Elijah discerned the sound of abundance. It was a prophetic knowing, a spiritual sensitivity that saw past what was visible into what God was about to do.
When Elijah cast his cloak over Elisha in the field, it wasn’t just a symbolic act — it was a divine call. Elisha understood this and responded not with delay or excuse, but with decisive action. After asking to say goodbye to his parents, he returned, slaughtered his oxen, and used the wooden yokes as fuel for the sacrifice. Then he gave the meal to the people and walked away from everything familiar to follow the prophet Elijah.