1 Kings 18:41-45 And Elijah said to Ahab, “Go up, eat and drink, for there is a sound of the rushing of rain.” 42 So Ahab went up to eat and to drink. And Elijah went up to the top of Mount Carmel. And he bowed himself down on the earth and put his face between his knees. 43 And he said to his servant, “Go up now, look toward the sea.” And he went up and looked and said, “There is nothing.” And he said, “Go again,” seven times. 44 And at the seventh time he said, “Behold, a little cloud like a man’s hand is rising from the sea.” And he said, “Go up, say to Ahab, ‘Prepare your chariot and go down, lest the rain stop you.’” 45 And in a little while the heavens grew black with clouds and wind, and there was a great rain.
Elijah heard what no one else did — a storm was coming. Though the sky was still blue and the ground still cracked from years of drought, Elijah discerned the sound of abundance. It was a prophetic knowing, a spiritual sensitivity that saw past what was visible into what God was about to do.
But Elijah didn’t just declare it — he prayed it through. He climbed Mount Carmel and bowed low, face between his knees, entering into deep intercession. This was the posture of travail. He sent his servant to look toward the sea seven times. Even when the report was “nothing,” he persisted — because faith doesn’t quit when the sky is clear. Faith presses in until the cloud appears.
We are in a similar moment now. God is preparing to pour out His Spirit again, in power and glory, in ways we have yet to see. There is a latter rain coming — an outpouring for the final harvest. But like Elijah, we must learn to see it before we see it, to pray into the promise, and to position ourselves for it.
Elijah tells Ahab to eat and drink — to rest in what’s coming. This is the spirit of Shabbat — a holy invitation to cease striving and trust that God is moving. In our own lives, we are called not just to work for revival but to rest in the God who brings it. Shabbat is not spiritual passivity; it’s confidence in God’s timing.
And here’s a crucial reminder: Some people get so focused on the tares that they miss the wheat. Yes, Scripture tells us a great apostasy is coming — but it also speaks of a great harvest. These two realities are not in conflict. The wheat grows right in the midst of the weeds (Matthew 13:30). The presence of darkness does not cancel the promise of light. In fact, the harvest at the end of the age comes while the weeds are still present. The farmer does not panic — he waits patiently for the latter rain to ripen the crop (James 5:7).
With prophetic vision, we can see that God is preparing to do something new—a fresh move, a divine shaking, a call to gather the harvest while it is still day. The clouds are forming. The rain is near.
This weekend, can we slow down — truly rest—and allow the Spirit to revitalize us for the mission we’re called to? Can we lay aside distraction and despair long enough to see the wheat, to hear the whisper of rain, and to recapture a vision of God’s plan for our lives? Let this be a time of sacred rest and prophetic realignment. You were made for this moment — for His harvest.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Elul is unlike any other month. As we mentioned yesterday, it is the 12th month on the civil calendar and the 6th on the prophetic calendar. This dual position gives Elul a unique character — it both closes a cycle and prepares for a new one. That is why the shofar sounds each day during Elul: it is a wake-up call, reminding us to reflect, repent, and return to the Lord before the great and awesome days of the Fall Feasts.
This begins a very special season on God’s calendar — the month of preparation before the Fall Feasts. The month of Elul is unique: it is the 12th month on the civil calendar and the 6th month on the prophetic/biblical calendar. Each day of Elul is marked by the blowing of the shofar, a trumpet call that awakens the soul. These daily blasts prepare our hearts for Yom Teruah (the Feast of Trumpets, Rosh Hashanah) and ultimately for Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement).
We have come to the final meditation in this journey through the Z’roah, the Arm of the LORD. From the Arm that redeemed Israel out of Egypt, to the Arm that pierced the dragon, to the Arm that is coming with reward — all of these revelations lead us here: the Arm that brings His people into rest.
Isaiah’s vision looks ahead — not only to the Arm of the LORD revealed in the Exodus or even in the cross, but to the day when that same Arm will come again in glory. This is not a picture of brute force but of purposeful arrival. The Z’roah — the Arm of the LORD — comes clothed with strength to establish His rule, and He does not come empty-handed. His reward is with Him, and His work is before Him. The promise is sure: He is coming, and He is rewarding.
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.
Jeremiah uttered these words when everything around him looked hopeless. Babylon’s armies surrounded Jerusalem, the city was on the brink of destruction, and yet God told Jeremiah to buy a field as a prophetic sign that restoration would come. The prophet responded in awe: the God who created the heavens and the earth by His outstretched arm (bizroa netuyah) is not bound by human circumstances. The same God who set galaxies in place and boundaries for the seas is the God who still moves to redeem His people. Truly, nothing is too hard for Him.
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.