John 7:37-39 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.’” 39 Now this he said about the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were to receive, for as yet the Spirit had not been given, because Jesus was not yet glorified.
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.
On October 7, 2023, the world changed. As Israel danced with the Torah on Simchat Torah, and the remnant celebrated the final outpouring of Sukkot on Hoshana Rabbah, war erupted. The enemy struck not only on a feast day — but on Shemini Atzeret, the eighth day, a day biblically symbolic of new beginnings, covenant consecration, and resurrection. Eight in Hebrew marks that which goes beyond the natural — into the realm of the supernatural. On this eighth day, while the people of God rejoiced around the Word, the heavens shook — and we must discern the hour.
This was not merely a geopolitical war. It was a prophetic turning. On the very day we traditionally cry out, “Hoshiana! Save now!” — a demonic backlash was unleashed. But as in ancient times, God is not surprised. He is not shaken. And neither can His people be. The same Messiah who cried out in the Temple on Hoshana Rabbah, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink!” (John 7:37), is still standing in our midst, calling us to draw from Him, not just for comfort, but for power.
This is not a time for passive devotion — it’s a time for Spirit-empowered purpose. The joy we draw from the wells of salvation is not merely for survival, but for assignment. The water that flows from the throne is meant to empower you — to stand, to speak, to shine. What has broken open in the natural must now break open in the Spirit. You were born for this moment — not to shrink back, but to rise up as one filled, overflowing, and ablaze with purpose. The eighth day cry is not just “thank You for what was,” but “Lord, empower me for what is now!”
Do not waste the moment. The shaking is not random. The eighth day is not just symbolic — it is prophetically strategic. You are not meant to walk in yesterday’s strength. Come again to the well. Drink again of the Spirit. Let the joy of salvation become the fire of boldness. Let the ancient cry of Hoshiana become your anthem — not just for rescue, but for release. You are being empowered for this hour. Now it’s time to rise, filled with living water, and become the vessel through which God births His purposes on the earth. Drink deep this weekend — your assignment awaits.
Copyright 1999-2025 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
How to display the above article within the Worthy Suite WordPress Plugin.
[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.