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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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Yesterday, in our devotional I spoke of the two rains in Israel, the early rain and the latter rain. The prophet Joel speaks prophetically of these two rainy seasons in connection with the outpouring of God's spirit.
For much of the year, Israel receives little to no rain. The early rains ( "Yoreh") begin at the time of the Fall Feasts, September-October, and the "Latter Rain (“Malkosh”) concludes the rainy season around the time of the Spring festival of Passover.
En Gedi is a nature reserve about 40 minutes from our home. Surrounded by dry, barren, rocky ground, except to the east where the Dead Sea lies, it is an oasis, fed year round by springs of fresh water, and home to some of the most unique wild and botanical life in the world.
A father asked his son to carry a letter from their camp to the village. He pointed out a trail over which the lad had never gone before. “All right Dad, but I don’t see how that path will ever reach the town,” said the boy. “Well son, I'll tell you how. Do you see that big tree down the path?” asked the father. “Oh, yes, I see that far.” “Well, when you get there by the tree, you’ll see the trail a little farther ahead -- and farther down you'll see another big tree -- and when you reach that one you'll be closer and so on until you get within sight of the houses of the village.”
Yesterday was a big day for us, but especially for baby Obi. He was circumcised in the presence of our friends and family (many of them not believers) at our congregation in Tel Aviv. We had the chance to share about the false report we got concerning Obi's health and how the doctors told us to abort him early on. I tied in the faith that Abraham must have had, especially concerning circumcision. There may not have been a dry eye in the house. Thank you, God!
What a week we've been having! We're getting ready to fly to the States for a much needed time, to see our families and to share what's going on here in the Land. Along with all the hustle and bustle of packing, running loads of errands and training a new volunteer, we just got word that the airport employees have begun a strike and customers have not been able to get on their flights all day. Not only that, we've been having computer problems galore! As the saying goes -- when it rains it pours!
Many times, our unbelieving family and coworkers -- society in general, can make us feel small and inferior -- like second class citizens -- because we are Christians. Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, somehow, we begin to believe it! We become what I like to call "mopey Christians," just moping around, keeping our faith hidden under a bushel, feeling afraid to say a word about Jesus, in fear that we might offend someone! And that's precisely what the enemy wants us to feel!