As we continue this study of the Dead Sea Scrolls we jump to 1963 and the unearthing of Masada.
Flavius Josephus the Jewish historian recorded the tragic events at Masada in “The Jewish Wars.” Masada was ignored for years as it reminded the Rabbis of the failures of the many false messiahs that appeared after Yeshua (Jesus).
However, Yigael Yadin, the son of Eleazar Sukenik who originally purchased the first of the Dead Sea scrolls, led an international expedition to unearth the secrets of Masada. While many archaeologists revel in the massive building projects of Herod the Great and the ruins of the siege of Masada, I want to focus on the Biblical documents which were discovered there, since in the synagogue the Jewish rebels had constructed after they seized the Roman compound in 66 A.D, Yadin discovered fragments of Ezekiel’s vision of the dry bones, [Ezekiel 37].
Ezekiel 37:7-8 So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I prophesied, there was a sound, and behold, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. And I looked, and behold, there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them. But there was no breath [ruach] in them.
The prophet’s remarkable vision pertained explicitly to the restoration of Israel to the Promised Land, the first phase of which was merely physical, a necessary precursor to their spiritual restoration when the breath or Ruach of God would be poured out upon the restored nation.
Once again, an archaeological discovery of Biblical text containing Ezekiel’s vision illustrated precisely where Israel was in their present history… the physical restoration of the Jewish people to their Land. The same passage also foretold their restoration in the Spirit, and since Israel’s restoration is only partially completed, we continue to anticipate its fullness according to the sure word of prophecy. Just a few short years later, that restoration showed its first signs of life…
On June 7, 1967, Israel reclaimed the Temple Mount for the first time in 2000 years. Meanwhile on the other side of the globe in San Fransisco, on that same day, the Jesus movement was being birthed. Within just a few years, an enthusiastic community of Jesus-loving ex-hippies from the 60s took the world by storm and revival broke out; thousands of Jews came to faith in Yeshua (Jesus), beginning the spiritual rebirth of the Jewish nation foretold so many years ago in Ezekiel’s vision of dry bones. Quite a number of those new Jewish believers actually made aliyah and moved to Israel to participate in its spiritual renewal.
Don’t fail to recognize these amazing signs as prophetic events minutely correspond to archeological discoveries. We are witnessing fulfillments promised millennia ago in our modern times. The blossoming of the fig tree, a symbol for Israel, was one explicit sign given by Yeshua portending the end of the age and His soon return. “Learn the parable of the fig tree,” He said. When it becomes “tender and puts out leaves, know that summer is near”, the harvest is ripe and He is at the door. [Matthew 24:32-33]. In light of these things, let us watch and pray as never before, and keep our lamps filled with the oil of His Spirit, and let us remember, “the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy; [Rev. 19:10].
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
Over the past two devotionals, we heard the song of the redeemed and stood at the wells of salvation. We saw how strength, song, and salvation flow from Yeshua Himself — how the joy of drawing from His presence is not just a poetic promise but a lifeline for our day. Yet today, we stand at a prophetic threshold. Something has shifted. Something has broken open. We are not only being refreshed — we are being awakened and called.
Yesterday, we heard the anthem of the redeemed rise like a trumpet blast: “The LORD is my strength and song, and He has become my salvation.” We explored how this was more than personal — it was prophetic, Messianic, and generational. We saw Yeshua not only as our Deliverer but as the very embodiment of God’s strength, the melody of our praise, and the fulfillment of every promise. We stood in awe as tents of rejoicing rose in the midst of warfare, and households became sanctuaries of celebration. But today, we go deeper — we step to the well.
There’s a reason this verse resounds like a national anthem of the redeemed. It’s not just a personal declaration—it’s a generational cry that echoes back to Moses at the Red Sea (Exodus 15:2) and forward to the final deliverance of Israel. The Hebrew word for salvation—Yeshua—makes this verse unmistakably Messianic. It isn’t a vague deliverance. It is the revelation of Yeshua (Jesus), the Deliverer, who embodies strength, becomes our song, and stands as the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan.
The cry that shattered the stillness of Golgotha—“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46)—was not a random cry of despair, but the deliberate voice of Yeshua pointing to Scripture. As He hung on the tree, bearing the sin of the world, He invoked the ancient words of David—not only identifying Himself as the righteous sufferer, but signaling that Psalm 22 was unfolding before their very eyes. In that moment, heaven and earth bore witness to a divine mystery: the Holy One, seemingly abandoned, was fulfilling a prophecy written a millennium earlier. Yeshua did not merely suffer—He fulfilled every word, every shadow, every stroke of divine prophecy.