Isaiah 40:10 Behold, the Lord GOD shall come with a strong hand, And His arm shall rule for Him; Behold, His reward is with Him, And His work before Him.
Isaiah’s vision looks ahead — not only to the Arm of the LORD revealed in the Exodus or even in the cross, but to the day when that same Arm will come again in glory. This is not a picture of brute force but of purposeful arrival. The Z’roah — the Arm of the LORD — comes clothed with strength to establish His rule, and He does not come empty-handed. His reward is with Him, and His work is before Him. The promise is sure: He is coming, and He is rewarding.
“His reward is with Him” speaks to the faithfulness of God’s covenant. The Hebrew word sakar carries the sense of blessing, vindication, and fulfillment of promise. The Lord does not forget His people. When He comes, He comes with restoration, with vindication for the righteous, and with the joy of fulfilled hope. The Arm that rules does not bring only judgment; He brings blessing for those who have trusted Him.
“His work is before Him” reminds us that nothing is left unfinished. What He begins, He completes. The story of redemption is still unfolding, and the Arm of the LORD carries it forward without delay or distraction. Creation itself testifies to His completed word, and redemption will likewise be brought to perfect fulfillment. The work of salvation is not a project abandoned halfway — it is always before Him, and He will see it through until the end.
Messianically, Isaiah’s prophecy echoes into Revelation 22:12: “Behold, I am coming soon, bringing my reward with me, to repay each one for what he has done.” The Arm revealed in weakness on the cross will return in glory, not only to reign, but to reward. The Lamb who was slain will return as the King who repays justice for the wicked, and eternal blessing for the faithful. His coming will consummate what His Arm has already secured: salvation, restoration, and everlasting kingdom.
For us today, this shifts our perspective. We live not as those scrambling under the chaos of the world but as those awaiting the certainty of His appearing. His work is still unfolding — and we are caught up in it. His reward is already secured — and we are heirs of it. Every act of obedience, every step of faith, every burden carried in His name will be answered when the Arm comes.
The Arm that once stretched wide to save you is the very Arm that will soon split the heavens and come for you. Lift your eyes — your King is coming clothed in power, crowned with justice, and carrying blessing for His people. Stand unshaken, for His work includes you, and His reward will surely be placed in your hands.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]These verses capture one of the most profound Messianic truths in all of Scripture. What man cast aside, God exalted. What the builders saw as flawed and unfit, God chose as the foundation of His eternal plan. Yeshua (Jesus), the rejected One, is the very cornerstone upon which salvation, identity, and destiny are built. This is more than a theological concept — it’s a divine reversal that reveals the heart of redemption. Rejection by man does not disqualify–it often qualifies you for God’s greatest purposes.
These verses are far more than ancient lyrics — they are a spiritual invitation. The psalmist doesn’t just admire the gate — he pleads for it to open. “Open to me the gates of righteousness…” This is the cry of a heart that longs for access to God, not by merit, but by mercy. In Hebrew thought, gates represent transition points — thresholds between the common and the holy, the outside and the inner court, the temporal and the eternal. These are not man-made doors — they are divine entrances into the presence and promises of the LORD.
As we continue our study in Psalm 118, I want to take a deep dive into verses 17-18, where the psalmist makes one of the boldest declarations in all of Scripture: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD.” This isn’t the voice of someone untouched by pain — it’s the cry of someone who has been through the fire and come out declaring God’s faithfulness. This statement is not a denial of suffering; it’s a defiance of death. It’s the resolve of a heart that’s been chastened, refined, and pressed, yet remains confident in the God who preserves life — not just for survival, but for purpose.
Over the past two devotionals, we heard the song of the redeemed and stood at the wells of salvation. We saw how strength, song, and salvation flow from Yeshua Himself — how the joy of drawing from His presence is not just a poetic promise but a lifeline for our day. Yet today, we stand at a prophetic threshold. Something has shifted. Something has broken open. We are not only being refreshed — we are being awakened and called.
Yesterday, we heard the anthem of the redeemed rise like a trumpet blast: “The LORD is my strength and song, and He has become my salvation.” We explored how this was more than personal — it was prophetic, Messianic, and generational. We saw Yeshua not only as our Deliverer but as the very embodiment of God’s strength, the melody of our praise, and the fulfillment of every promise. We stood in awe as tents of rejoicing rose in the midst of warfare, and households became sanctuaries of celebration. But today, we go deeper — we step to the well.
There’s a reason this verse resounds like a national anthem of the redeemed. It’s not just a personal declaration—it’s a generational cry that echoes back to Moses at the Red Sea (Exodus 15:2) and forward to the final deliverance of Israel. The Hebrew word for salvation—Yeshua—makes this verse unmistakably Messianic. It isn’t a vague deliverance. It is the revelation of Yeshua (Jesus), the Deliverer, who embodies strength, becomes our song, and stands as the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan.
The cry that shattered the stillness of Golgotha—“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46)—was not a random cry of despair, but the deliberate voice of Yeshua pointing to Scripture. As He hung on the tree, bearing the sin of the world, He invoked the ancient words of David—not only identifying Himself as the righteous sufferer, but signaling that Psalm 22 was unfolding before their very eyes. In that moment, heaven and earth bore witness to a divine mystery: the Holy One, seemingly abandoned, was fulfilling a prophecy written a millennium earlier. Yeshua did not merely suffer—He fulfilled every word, every shadow, every stroke of divine prophecy.