Isaiah 63:12-14 Who caused his glorious arm to go at the right hand of Moses, who divided the waters before them to make for himself an everlasting name, 13 who led them through the depths? Like a horse in the desert, they did not stumble. 14 Like livestock that go down into the valley, the Spirit of the LORD gave them rest. So you led your people, to make for yourself a glorious name.
Isaiah recalls the Exodus as the supreme display of God’s Z’roah, His Arm of glory. Though the people saw Moses raise his staff over the Red Sea, it was not Moses’ power that split the waters. Behind the prophet’s hand was the Arm of the LORD — majestic, glorious, and unstoppable. The sea parted not to honor Moses, but to exalt the Name of the God who sent him. The Red Sea became a stage for God to reveal His glory, so that His Name would echo through generations as the Deliverer of His people.
The text emphasizes that this act of deliverance was for a greater purpose: “to make Himself an everlasting name.” The miracles of the Exodus were not random interventions; they were deliberate revelations of God’s character and covenant faithfulness. By cutting a highway through the sea, the Arm of the LORD was inscribing His Name into Israel’s memory and broadcasting His power to the nations. Pharaoh’s pride was crushed, Israel’s hope was restored, and God’s reputation as Redeemer was forever secured.
This same truth is repeated throughout Scripture. Every act of salvation magnifies His Name. When Abraham’s barren household was given Isaac, when David stood before Goliath, when Elijah called down fire on Mount Carmel — it was the LORD Himself making His Name known through human weakness. The Z’roah moves not to glorify men but to reveal the God who rules history.
In Messiah Yeshua, this reaches its climax. John’s Gospel declares that Yeshua’s (Jesus’) greatest hour of glory was the cross. There, the Arm was revealed in ultimate weakness and ultimate strength — suffering to redeem, dying to conquer, rising to reign. Philippians 2 tells us that because of this, “God has highly exalted Him and bestowed on Him the Name above every name.” The parting of the sea pointed forward to the tearing of the veil and the breaking of death’s power, all for the glory of the everlasting Name.
For us today, Isaiah’s words remind us that the miracles in our lives are never just about us — they are about Him. When God makes a way where there is no way, when He divides the seas of impossibility before us, it is so His Name might be glorified in us and through us. Our deliverance is His testimony. Our freedom is His witness. Every act of salvation is the Arm of the LORD writing His Name upon our story.
The glorious Arm that split the sea is the same Arm stretched wide at the cross. He still leads, He still delivers, and He still makes His Name known through His people. Lift your eyes from your own strength to the One whose Name is everlasting. The waters before you will part, not for your glory, but for His — and in your deliverance, the nations will know that He alone is God.
Copyright 1999-2025 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
How to display the above article within the Worthy Suite WordPress Plugin.
[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.