Psalms 118:27-29 The LORD is God, and he has made his light to shine upon us. Bind the festal sacrifice with cords, up to the horns of the altar! 28 You are my God, and I will give thanks to you; you are my God; I will extol you. 29 Oh give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever!
These closing verses of Psalm 118 begin with an unshakable proclamation: “The LORD is God.” In Hebrew, it’s emphatic — YHVH, He is El — the declaration that all authority, holiness, and sovereignty belong to Him alone. Yet this is not just a statement of who He is — it’s a testimony of what He has done: “He has made His light to shine upon us.” This light is more than the glow of the sun — it is the revelation of His presence, the warmth of His favor, and the piercing truth that chases away every shadow. His light doesn’t simply illuminate — it transforms.
The psalmist then calls for a radical act of worship: “Bind the festal sacrifice with cords, up to the horns of the altar!” This is the language of the Temple, of worship that is both celebratory and costly. During Sukkot, this verse was read on Hoshana Rabbah, as worshipers circled the altar, praising God and crying out for salvation. The horns of the altar were the place of atonement and covenant — the very spot where the blood of the sacrifice was applied. To bind the sacrifice was to fully dedicate it to God, with no option of taking it back.
This is no ordinary offering — it is a festal sacrifice, brought with joy, not reluctance. In the light of God’s revelation, the only reasonable response is full surrender. It’s as if the psalmist is saying, “I will not just bring my gift to the altar — I will bind myself to it. My worship will not be convenient — it will be complete.” This points us directly to Yeshua, the ultimate festal sacrifice, who willingly allowed Himself to be bound and led to the cross, the final altar, so that His light could shine on all who believe.
From this place of total surrender, verses 28 and 29 overflow with thanksgiving: “You are my God, and I will give thanks to You… Oh, give thanks to the LORD, for He is good; for His steadfast love endures forever!” The heart that has encountered God’s light and laid itself on His altar cannot help but worship. These words also carry a Shabbat rhythm — just as Shabbat closes each week with blessings and praise, so this psalm closes with the eternal refrain of God’s goodness and enduring mercy. Shabbat reminds us that our worship flows from rest, not striving, and that our surrender is not loss, but delight.
Your light has come, the altar is before you, and the cords are ready. Will you be a casual observer of His goodness, or will you bind yourself to His purposes with joy? This is the moment to go beyond convenience into consecration. Lay yourself down — not as a reluctant offering, but as a willing one. Let the light that has shone on you ignite a life of thanksgiving. Tie your heart to the altar of His will and let your praise rise like incense. The LORD is God — acknowledge it with your life. He is good — declare it with your lips. His mercy endures forever — live in it with every breath.
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These closing verses of Psalm 118 begin with an unshakable proclamation: “The LORD is God.” In Hebrew, it’s emphatic — YHVH, He is El — the declaration that all authority, holiness, and sovereignty belong to Him alone. Yet this is not just a statement of who He is — it’s a testimony of what He has done: “He has made His light to shine upon us.” This light is more than the glow of the sun — it is the revelation of His presence, the warmth of His favor, and the piercing truth that chases away every shadow. His light doesn’t simply illuminate — it transforms.
Psalm 118:24 is not merely about enjoying a new day — it is a prophetic declaration of a divinely appointed moment. “This is the day the LORD has made” speaks of a kairos moment in history when heaven and earth converge. It points to the day when Messiah would be revealed, salvation would walk into Jerusalem, and God’s covenant plan would take a dramatic step forward. This is not the casual celebration of a sunrise — it is the joyful response to God’s redemptive unfolding.
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.