Isaiah 40:10-11 Behold, the Lord Jehovah will come with a strong hand, and His arm shall rule for Him (v’zroah moshel lo); behold, His reward is with Him, and His work before Him. 11 He shall feed His flock like a shepherd; He shall gather the lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom, and shall gently lead those with young.
The Hebrew phrase “z’roah moshel lo” paints the picture of an arm that governs with both strength and care. The same Z’roah that brought Israel out of Egypt in power now establishes righteous order and sustains His people in love. Deliverance without rulership is incomplete; the Redeemer becomes the King — and the King rules as a Shepherd. The Arm does not act independently but moves in perfect submission to the Head, carrying out the will of the Father.
In biblical thought, true rulership is never mere domination; it is covenantal stewardship. The Z’roah carries the full authority of the One who sends it, wielding the power to judge the oppressor while protecting the weak. Messiah, as the Arm of the LORD, executes justice, defends the vulnerable, and leads His people in righteousness — not by coercion, but by faithful, sacrificial love.
Isaiah’s vision joins two images often separated in our minds — the scepter of a king and the staff of a shepherd. The Warrior Arm that struck Egypt is the same Shepherd Arm that gathers lambs into His bosom. His rulership aligns creation under divine order, restoring peace where chaos once reigned. When His arm rules, shalom is not an ideal — it becomes reality.
In the ministry of Yeshua (Jesus), this rulership took tangible form: demons fled at His command, storms obeyed His voice, and His touch healed the sick. These were not random displays of power, but the King’s arm setting creation back into harmony with heaven. And in the Messianic age to come, this rulership will be universal, with every nation under the care of the Shepherd-King.
For believers, submitting to the rulership of the Z’roah means embracing both His authority and His embrace. We cannot receive Him as Redeemer without acknowledging Him as Ruler. The arm that delivers us from bondage must also guide us on the path of life. His reign is our refuge, and His bosom is our resting place.
The Z’roah of God is not only the arm that saves you from the enemy’s grip — it is the arm that takes the throne. Let the Arm that delivered you also direct you, for where His rule is established, no enemy can endure and no chaos can survive. He is the Shepherd-King, whose scepter is a staff, whose power is wrapped in tenderness. Under His care, the path is certain, the journey is guarded, and the destination is sure — for His reward is with Him, and He will not rest until He has led you safely 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]The Hebrew phrase “z’roah moshel lo” paints the picture of an arm that governs with both strength and care. The same Z’roah that brought Israel out of Egypt in power now establishes righteous order and sustains His people in love. Deliverance without rulership is incomplete; the Redeemer becomes the King — and the King rules as a Shepherd. The Arm does not act independently but moves in perfect submission to the Head, carrying out the will of the Father.
I’ll be doing a series on the “Arm of God,” beginning with this first message — The Arm that Redeems. The Hebrew Z’roah (זְרוֹעַ) means “arm” or “strength,” and in ancient Hebrew culture, the arm symbolizes active power in motion — strength applied for a purpose. In the Exodus account, God tells Moses He will redeem Israel “with an outstretched arm” (bizroa netuyah). This was not poetic metaphor; it was God’s declaration of decisive intervention. The Z’roah is the covenant-keeping arm that moves history, enforces promises, and breaks oppression. Every Pesach (Passover), during the seder — the festive meal of remembrance — the roasted lamb shank bone, the Z’roah, rests on the plate as a silent yet powerful witness to God’s mighty deliverance.
These closing verses of Psalm 118 begin with an unshakable proclamation: “The LORD is God.” In Hebrew, it’s emphatic — YHVH, He is El — the declaration that all authority, holiness, and sovereignty belong to Him alone. Yet this is not just a statement of who He is — it’s a testimony of what He has done: “He has made His light to shine upon us.” This light is more than the glow of the sun — it is the revelation of His presence, the warmth of His favor, and the piercing truth that chases away every shadow. His light doesn’t simply illuminate — it transforms.
Psalm 118:24 is not merely about enjoying a new day — it is a prophetic declaration of a divinely appointed moment. “This is the day the LORD has made” speaks of a kairos moment in history when heaven and earth converge. It points to the day when Messiah would be revealed, salvation would walk into Jerusalem, and God’s covenant plan would take a dramatic step forward. This is not the casual celebration of a sunrise — it is the joyful response to God’s redemptive unfolding.
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.