Acts 17:22-23 Then Paul stood in the midst of Mars’ hill, and said, “Men of Athens, I perceive that in all things you are very religious; for as I was passing through and considering the objects of your worship, I even found an altar with this inscription: TO THE UNKNOWN GOD. Therefore, the One whom you worship without knowing, Him I proclaim to you:
Several hundred years before Jesus was born, a plague broke out in Athens, Greece. In an effort to stop the plague and appease the ‘gods’, the Athenians sought counsel from a wise man named Epimenides from the island of Crete.
When Epimenides arrived in Athens, he was amazed at the number of statues of gods the Athenians had erected, to which he stated, “Gods must be easier to find here than men!”
The elders of Athens eagerly gathered on Mars Hill the following day to hear the wisdom of Epimenides and his recommendation for dealing with the plague. So the wise man instructed the Athenians to gather at Mars Hill, bringing with them a flock of sheep, a band of stonemasons and a large supply of stones and mortar. He also commanded that the sheep be prevented from grazing the entire night so that when they arrived the following morning they would be hungry.
The following morning, Epimenides stated, “Learned elders, you have already expended great effort in offering sacrifice to numerous gods, yet all have proved futile. I am now about to sacrifice based upon three assumptions rather different than yours.”
“The first assumption is that there is still another god concerned in this matter of the plague—a god whose name is unknown to us, and who is therefore not represented by any idol in your country. Secondly, I am going to assume also that this god is great enough—and good enough—to do something about the plague, if only we invoke his help. Thirdly, that any god great enough and good enough to do something about this plague is probably also great and good enough to smile upon us in our ignorance—if we acknowledge our ignorance and call upon him!”
Next, Epimenides ordered the sheep to be released, and he prayed, “O thou unknown god! Behold the plague afflicting this city! And if indeed you feel compassion to forgive and help us, behold this flock of sheep! Reveal your willingness to respond, I plead, by causing any sheep that pleases you to lie down upon the grass instead of grazing. Choose white if white pleases, black if black delights. And those you choose we sacrifice to you—acknowledging our pitiful ignorance of your name!”
As the sheep were released, the people were shocked when the sheep started lying down instead of grazing! Wherever they lay, an altar was erected and a sacrifice was made to the “unknown god!” The Athenians were freed from their plague, and the legend of their deliverance at the hands of the “unknown god” continued unto the time of Paul when he entered into Athens.
This amazing event became Paul’s point of departure for reaching the Athenians with the gospel of Jesus. God had laid a historical foundation to prepare their hearts for seeking and believing in a legendary “unknown god”; a god who had already demonstrated his saving power among them, but one whom the apostle had now come to identify…. and fully reveal to them!
God continues even now, preparing souls in mysterious ways, throughout the world! He is looking for laborers to go into the harvest fields! And no matter where you are, there’s a harvest field right outside your door…so go forth!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
In a world weary from political upheaval, moral confusion, and fleeting peace, Isaiah offers us a vision of something profoundly different—an ever-increasing kingdom ruled by a King whose justice is not compromised, whose peace is not fleeting, and whose throne is eternally secure. The phrase “of the increase of His government and peace there will be no end” speaks not just of duration, but of expansion—a kingdom that doesn’t plateau, doesn’t weaken, and doesn’t shrink back in the face of darkness. Instead, it advances, multiplies, and transforms.
In the Hebraic understanding, a name isn’t just a label—it reveals essence, identity, and destiny. Isaiah doesn’t say these are merely descriptions of the Messiah; he says His Name shall be called — meaning this is who He is. When we declare these names, we are not offering poetic praise — we are calling upon real attributes of the living King. In just one verse, the prophet unveils the depth of Messiah’s personhood, showing us that this child is no ordinary child. He is the fulfillment of heaven’s promise and the revelation of God’s nature.