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.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.