Isaiah 59:16 He saw that there was no man, And wondered that there was no intercessor; Therefore His own arm brought salvation for Him; And His own righteousness, it sustained Him.
Isaiah 63:5 I looked, but there was no one to help, And I wondered That there was no one to uphold; Therefore My own arm brought salvation for Me; And My own fury, it sustained Me.
This is one of the most intimate revelations of the Z’roah in Scripture. God looks for a human intercessor but finds none. No man can bridge the gap. So His own Arm accomplishes the work. In Hebrew, v’tosha lo z’roah — “His arm saved for Him” — reveals that salvation originates from within God Himself, not from any outside help. Isaiah adds that His own righteousness sustained Him — it upheld His resolve to save — and His fury upheld Him, a holy passion that would not rest until justice was accomplished.
This truth is central in the Passover (Pesach) picture: Israel did not fight her way out of Egypt; she was carried out. The Lamb’s blood and the Arm’s power worked together without Israel lifting a weapon. In the same way, at the cross, Yeshua (Jesus) — the Arm of the LORD — bore the full weight of salvation without human assistance. His righteousness sustained Him through the agony, and His righteous fury burned against sin and death until they were utterly defeated.
Theologically, this leaves no room for pride. We bring nothing to redemption but our need; we do not earn it, we receive it. Just as the Arm moves only at the Head’s command, Yeshua obeyed the Father’s will flawlessly — even to the point of death. His saving work was solitary, unstoppable, and completely sufficient. His righteousness was far more than a moral attribute; it was the unwavering strength that kept Him on course to fulfill the mission His Father had ordained for Him before the foundation of the world. (1 Peter 1:19-20)
Prophetically, Isaiah 63:5 echoes this: “My own arm brought me salvation, and my fury upheld me.” This is God ensuring that the work is perfect, untouched by human failure. His fury was not uncontrolled rage, but holy determination — the fierce love of the Redeemer refusing to let His people perish. The Arm finishes what the Head purposes, and nothing in heaven, earth, or hell can stop it.
For us, this means resting in the finished work. We add nothing to the cross but our surrender. The same Arm that saved alone is the Arm that sustains continually. The righteousness that held Him to His mission is the same righteousness now covering us, and the same holy passion that upheld Him is the passion that guards and keeps us until the end.
Stop carrying burdens you were never meant to bear. Salvation is His work from start to finish — rest in it, and you will discover a strength you could never produce on your own. For His Arm accomplishes all that the Father commands, His righteousness will never fail, and soon that same Arm will lift you up and carry you all the way home.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]In Matthew 21, Yeshua (Jesus) approached a fig tree full of leaves but found no fruit. He cursed it, and it withered. This dramatic act was not about the tree—it was about Israel. The fig tree had the appearance of life, but it lacked the substance of transformation. It was a warning to a nation full of religion but void of repentance. The tree became a symbol of spiritual barrenness, of form without fruit.
The parable of the fig tree is not just a message to observers — it’s a summons to the faithful. The fig tree puts out its leaves first, then comes the fruit. Spiritually, that’s a call to live in readiness even before the final harvest arrives. Yeshua (Jesus) tells His disciples, “Be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect” (Matthew 24:44).
Among all fruit-bearing trees, the fig tree is uniquely prophetic–because it is one of the few that produces two harvests in a single growing season. First comes the early crop in spring, known in Scripture as the “first ripe fig” (Isaiah 28:4), and then a second, more abundant harvest in late summer or early fall. This uncommon pattern is a living picture of prophecy woven into the fabric of creation.
Yeshua (Jesus) didn’t merely offer a suggestion–He issued a command: “Learn the parable.” In Greek, the word manthano (μανθάνω) implies disciplined learning, not casual observation. In Hebraic thought, to “learn” a parable means to press into its hidden meaning until it transforms how you live. The fig tree is not just a poetic image–it’s a prophetic mandate. And Yeshua expected His disciples, including us, to understand it deeply.
Yeshua (Jesus) used the fig tree—a familiar symbol in Israel’s botanical and prophetic world—as a teaching tool to awaken spiritual discernment. The fig tree, known for losing all its leaves in winter and budding again in spring, became a natural signpost to mark the changing seasons. In the same way, Jesus gave His disciples prophetic markers to discern a coming shift: wars, famines, false messiahs, persecution, lawlessness, and the global preaching of the gospel (Matthew 24:4–14).
On July 4th, America remembers a bold declaration — a break from tyranny, a longing for a better government, and the birth of a nation built on liberty. The Founders risked everything to establish a new way of life, one where freedom could flourish. Their cry was clear: “We will no longer be ruled by kings who oppress–we will be governed by laws that reflect liberty and justice.”
In a world full of uncertainty, this verse from Romans stands like a lighthouse in the storm: “The God of hope…” Not just the God who gives hope, but the very source of it. When everything around us seems shaken — economies falter, nations rage, relationships strain — it is the God of hope who remains unshaken and unchanging.