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]We often celebrate beginnings—new chapters, breakthroughs, divine appointments. But in God’s economy, every true beginning requires a holy crossing. Before the Hebrews could enter the Promised Land, they had to leave Egypt. Before they entered the Promised Land, they had to cross over the Red Sea. And before Abraham could receive God’s promises, he had to obey a single command: “Leave.”
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.