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]Psalm 98 is a victory psalm — a call to lift up a “new song” because the Z’roah, the holy arm of the LORD, has brought decisive triumph. In Hebrew thought, the arm is the active extension of the will, the power that brings intention into reality. To call it “holy” is to declare that it is set apart, dedicated fully to God’s purpose, incapable of corruption. The psalmist celebrates that salvation is not a hidden act, but an open demonstration — God’s righteousness revealed before the eyes of the nations.
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 zeroa — “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.
To “bare” the arm means to roll up the sleeve and reveal the full readiness for action. In Isaiah’s prophecy, this is a global unveiling — no longer hidden, the Z’roah is on display for all nations to witness. This speaks directly of Yeshua’s (Jesus’) public ministry and, ultimately, His crucifixion.
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.