Isaiah 51:9 Awake, awake, put on strength, O arm of the LORD; awake, as in days of old, the generations of long ago. Was it not you who cut Rahab in pieces, who pierced the dragon?
Psalms 89:9-10 You rule the raging of the sea; when its waves rise, you still them. 10 You crushed Rahab like a carcass; you scattered your enemies with your mighty arm.
Isaiah’s words summon one of the most dramatic images of God’s saving power: the Z’roah — the Arm of the LORD — cutting Rahab in pieces and piercing the dragon.
Here, Rahab is not the woman of Jericho but a poetic name for Egypt (Psalm 87:4), often symbolizing arrogant nations and the dark spiritual powers behind them. In Hebrew poetry, Rahab also evokes the sea monster of chaos, a stand-in for the forces that oppose God’s order. To say the Arm “cut Rahab in pieces” is to recall how God shattered Egypt’s pride and broke the grip of the powers that enslaved His people.
The dragon, or serpent, is another layer of this imagery. Behind Pharaoh’s cruelty and Egypt’s gods was the same ancient serpent that slithered into Eden — the chaos-bringer, the deceiver, the enemy of God’s purposes. When the Arm of the LORD struck Egypt with plagues and split the Red Sea, it was not only Pharaoh who was defeated; it was the serpent himself who was pierced, exposed as powerless against the covenant God of Israel. The Exodus was more than political liberation — it was a cosmic showdown, and the Arm of God prevailed.
The cry “Awake, awake!” is not a suggestion that God has grown weary or inattentive. In Hebrew, “lavesh oz” — “put on strength” — means to clothe oneself for action, to rise up ready for battle. The exiles were invoking the Arm that once destroyed Rahab, pleading for Him to act again in their day. This was a declaration of faith: the God who pierces the dragon once will pierce him again.
Yet the Arm does not only strike; it saves. The same Arm that shattered Egypt also carried Israel safely through the sea, making a way where there was none. The battle was never for spectacle but for the flock’s safety. Every sword-thrust against the dragon clears a path for God’s people to walk in freedom. His piercing blow is always for the sake of deliverance.
Prophetically, this piercing of the dragon finds its ultimate fulfillment in Messiah Yeshua (Jesus). At the cross, the Arm of the LORD struck the serpent’s head, disarming principalities and powers (Colossians 2:14-15). In His resurrection, He proved that the dragon has no final claim over His people. Revelation picks up the same imagery, declaring the final defeat of the great dragon, Satan, who is cast down forever (Revelation 12:9; 20:10). The Arm that pierced in Egypt pierced again at Calvary — and will pierce once more at the end of the age.
For us today, Isaiah’s cry becomes our own. In seasons when chaos swirls and the enemy’s roar seems loud, we call upon the Arm of the LORD — not as if He were asleep, but as an act of faith that He will rise and act again. The dragon still snarls, but his fate is sealed. The Arm has already pierced him, and His victory is our inheritance.
The Arm that pierced the dragon is the very Arm stretched wide at the cross for you. Call upon Him, and remember that He has already given you authority to tread upon serpents and scorpions and over all the power of the enemy (Luke 10:18–19). He will carve a way for you through raging seas, opening a path where there seems to be no way. So stand firm — for the dragon’s roar is nothing more than the echo of his defeat, and his end is already sealed. The same Arm that cut Rahab in pieces, that split the waters, that crushed the serpent’s head, is the Arm that now holds you secure and will carry you all the way home!
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]When we read the promises of God, we must read them the way we ourselves want to be heard—in full context. Just as we expect others to understand our words in light of what we’ve said before, God expects us to interpret His promises in light of all He has revealed in His Word.
A few days ago, I shared a quote from B.J. Willhite, and today I want to delve deeper into his powerful insight. He wrote, “The law of prayer is the highest law of the universe—it can overcome the other laws by sanctioning God’s intervention. When implemented properly, the law of prayer permits God to exercise His sovereignty in a world under the dominion of a rebel with free will, in a universe governed by natural law.”
When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.
In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.
Tonight we’ll participate in the Independence Day celebration in Israel — and what a party! — shows, fireworks, music, dancing, everything under the sun!
Yesterday, Israel observed Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Remembrance Day—honoring the memory of the six million Jews who perished. Tragically, a recent poll reveals that nearly half of Israelis fear the possibility of another Holocaust. In light of this sobering reality, I want to share a powerful story of one remarkable woman who rescued 2,500 Jewish children from the ghettos during World War II.
One night a house caught fire and a young boy was forced to flee flames by jumping to the ground from the roof. His father stood on the ground below with outstretched arms, calling to his son, “Jump! I’ll catch you.” But the boy was afraid — he couldn’t see his father — all he could see was flame, smoke, and blackness. He was afraid. Still, his father kept yelling: “Jump son! I will catch you!” But the boy refused, crying, “Daddy, I can’t see you!” His father replied, “It’s ok son — I can see you — and that’s all that matters!”