2 Chronicles 19:4 Jehoshaphat lived at Jerusalem. And he went out again among the people, from Beersheba to the hill country of Ephraim, and brought them back to the LORD, the God of their fathers.
As we enter this season of Teshuva (Repentance) during the month of Elul, we enter a unique season approaching the Fall Feasts. This month initiates a 40-day countdown to Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement), and is traditionally known as the time the King would visit His people.
Most of the year, for 11 months, the King reigning from His throne in His royal palace was unapproachable unless a subject was summoned or went through appropriate channels to appear before him. However, during Elul, the King left His palace and set up His royal tent in the fields, issuing an announcement: “The King is in the field!”
A subject no longer needed to be summoned or go through a royal bureaucracy. During this short season, anyone could visit the King. Also, at this time, the King inspected the fields and checked the status of His Kingdom.
In 2 Chronicles 19, we read that King Jehoshaphat went through the fields and called His people to return to God. As we near the days of Yom Teruah (Feast of Trumpets) and Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement), a time of introspection and reflection, we may also hear a particular call from our King. Yet be reminded that our King Yeshua (Jesus) has not limited us to one month per year of accessibility, though this may be a time of particular intensity.
While we may be encouraged in this season toward giving particular attention to our relationship with Him, asking for greater intimacy, deeper repentance, or victory over personal strongholds, we also know that his availability during any and every season is assured because of his atoning sacrifice. We can always return to Him.
Our Lord’s accessibility is unlimited, and yet…there are and can be special seasons during which we are prompted to deepen our communion with Him. This season of harvest and the signs of His soon coming should urge us on… not to waste this or any season, but to visit the King while He may be found!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]God has always longed for intimacy with us. He formed us for Himself–to walk with Him, to know Him, to delight in His Presence. This is the very heartbeat of creation: relationship, not religion. Yet sin drove a wedge between us. A veil was drawn, shutting out the light of His face and placing distance where there was once communion.
A beachhead is the first critical objective in a military invasion–the spot where a force lands on enemy territory and secures a position for greater advancement. It’s the place of breakthrough. And it’s also the place of fiercest resistance.
David wrote Psalm 3 while running for his life — betrayed, heartbroken, and hunted by his own son, Absalom. The weight of rebellion wasn’t just political; it was personal. His household had turned against him. Friends became foes. Loyal hearts grew cold. The throne he once held was now surrounded by enemies, and the whispers grew louder: “There is no salvation for him in God.”
Psalm 2 is a divine announcement — a heavenly decree that demands the world’s attention. It begins with a question: “Why do the nations rage, and the peoples plot in vain?” (Ps. 2:1). The nations rise up, not against injustice or tyranny, but against the rule of God’s Meshiach (Messiah). That Anointed is Yeshua — the Son whom the Father has set on His holy hill in Zion (Ps. 2:6). The psalm strips away all pretense and exposes the heart of human rebellion: it is a refusal to be ruled by His Messiah.
Psalm 1 opens with a sobering warning about the quiet, deadly slide into sin. The man without God doesn’t become a scorner overnight — he drifts there gradually. First, he walks in ungodly counsel, entertaining worldly thoughts. Then, he stands in the path of sinners, embracing their way of life. Finally, he sits in the seat of the scornful, hardened in heart and mocking what is sacred. This progression — from a man without God to scorner — reveals how small compromises grow into full rebellion, dulling the conscience and deadening the soul.
Last night marked the beginning of Shavuot–a feast that many Christians recognize as Pentecost, the day the Holy Spirit was poured out in Acts 2. But the roots of Shavuot stretch back much further. Long before that upper room encounter–about 1,500 years earlier–Shavuot was the day God gave the law to Moses on Mount Sinai, writing His commandments on tablets of stone.
In a world trembling with uncertainty–political unrest, economic turmoil, natural disasters–God is speaking again. Not in whispers, but with the shaking that reorders lives, redefines kingdoms, and removes everything that cannot stand in the presence of His glory. He is preparing us for a kingdom that cannot be moved. But in the midst of the shaking, there is rest — a deep, unshakable rest reserved for the people of God. Not rest as the world gives — temporary relief or distraction — but the kind that anchors the soul in the storm, the kind that is rooted in Yeshua (Jesus), our rest.