Revelation 1:10 I was in the Spirit on the Lord’s day, and I heard behind me a loud voice like a trumpet.
John 7:37-38 On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. 38 Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’”
Throughout Scripture, the number eight carries profound prophetic significance. It speaks of new beginnings, fresh starts, and divine separation from what was, to embrace what is to come.
Think of Noah, stepping out of the ark with seven others—eight souls total—to restart humanity after the flood. Or Isaac, the first recorded in the Bible to be circumcised on the eighth day, a covenantal sign that marked a new identity and set-apart life before God. And then, Yeshua (Jesus), our Messiah, who was also circumcised on the eighth day, entered into His earthly mission as a Jewish boy set apart from birth.
But the most powerful “eighth day” of all was the day of resurrection. After Shabbat (Sabbath) — following havdalah (Hebrew for separation – a weekly ceremony that marks the end of Shabbat and the ushering of a new week) — Yeshua rose from the grave. In that moment, which coincided with the Feast of Bikoreem (First Fruits), He conquered death and ushered in a new covenant and a new way of life for all who follow Him. Just as havdalah marks the transition from Sabbath to a new week, Messiah’s resurrection marked the separation from the old and the beginning of a new and living way (Hebrews 10:19-24).
The Apostle Paul often wrote of this separation—the old covenant giving way to the new, the law of death replaced by the law of life in Messiah. (2 Corinthians 3:5-18)
This is why the early Church began celebrating the “Lord’s Day” on the first day of the week — not simply as a memorial of Yeshua’s resurrection, but as a weekly reminder of the eighth day. It was a day that pointed beyond time itself, toward eternity — a “time outside of time” — when all things would be made new and God would dwell forever with His people. (Revelation 21:1-6) Every Lord’s Day became a prophetic rehearsal for the age to come, when death would be no more and the fullness of redemption would be complete.
Remarkably, 2,000 years ago, on the eighth day of the Feast of Tabernacles — on Simchat Torah, Yeshua stood in the Temple and cried out, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink” (John 7:37-38). On that sacred day, traditionally linked with rejoicing in the Torah, He pointed to Himself as the source of living water. It was a prophetic marker of a new beginning — in connection with the outpouring of the Holy Spirit.
Even today, the echoes of that moment continue. When war broke out in Israel in October 2023, it was on Simchat Torah; it was more than just a tragic coincidence. It served as a solemn reminder that God often initiates new seasons in moments of shaking. The same day that once symbolized joy and the giving of the Word now marks a renewed call to return to the Source — to Yeshua, the Living Water.
Today, if you feel stuck in the past, remember this: the eighth day is coming. In God’s Kingdom, every ending is the doorway to a new beginning. In Yeshua, the end is never the end—it’s a call to rise. His resurrection was not merely a moment in history, but an open invitation to live a resurrected life and walk in the unshakable hope of eternity. Yeshua didn’t rise just to display power — He rose to give it, lifting us from what was and leading us into all that is yet to come.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
King David wrote these words generations before the empty tomb shook the foundations of death. At first glance, Psalm 16 reads like a personal prayer of trust — a yearning for security and closeness with God. But beneath the surface, the Spirit was revealing something deeper, something eternal: a promise not just for David, but for all of us.
The majestic Messianic prophecy of Isaiah 9 culminates in a powerful declaration: “The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this.” Not might. Not maybe. Not if we work hard enough. It will be done — because God Himself is passionate to see it through. The Hebrew word for “zeal” here is קִנְאָה (kin’ah), which also means jealousy or burning passion. This is not passive interest — it’s the fiery determination of the LORD of Hosts to establish His Kingdom. The same fiery zeal that struck Egypt with plagues—shattering the power of false gods, that parted the Red Sea and made a way where there was none, that birthed a nation from the womb of slavery, and that drove the Son of God to the cross at Calvary — is the very zeal that will fulfill every promise declared in Isaiah 9.