Romans 15:13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.
In the 1950s, a Harvard psychologist named Dr. Curt Richter conducted a now-famous experiment involving rats and buckets of water. At first glance, it was a grim study, but a profound truth about the human spirit was buried within it.
In his initial test, Richter placed rats in water to see how long they could swim before giving up. On average, they lasted just 15 minutes before succumbing to exhaustion. But then something remarkable happened, he added the possibility of hope to see the results.
Just before the rats were about to drown, Richter would reach in, pull them out, dry them off, let them rest, and then return them to the water.
And this time?
They didn’t just swim another 15 minutes.
They lasted hours with one rat that continued to swim for an astonishing 60 hours.
What changed? Richter concluded “the rats quickly learn that the situation is not actually hopeless” and that “after elimination of hopelessness the rats do not die.”
Because they had been rescued once, the rats now believed they might be rescued again—and that hope gave them the strength to endure far beyond what they were capable of before.
Let that settle in your heart for a moment: hope kept them swimming.
If hope can keep a tired rat going for 60 hours, imagine what hope in God can do in your life.
Difficult seasons are inevitable. But the crushing weight of hopelessness is far more dangerous than hardship itself.
Hope doesn’t deny the difficulty — it gives us strength in the middle of it. It lifts our eyes off the storm and fixes them on the Savior. And sometimes, that small flicker of hope is all we need to keep swimming.
That’s why Scripture reminds us that the God of hope is able to fill us with joy and peace as we trust in Him—so that, by the power of the Holy Spirit, we can overflow with hope even in the hardest moments.
Perhaps you feel like you’re treading water, moments from going under. Maybe someone close to you is silently struggling to stay afloat. Never underestimate the power of hope, especially the kind rooted in Yeshua (Jesus). It can carry you further than you ever imagined.
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]
Life wears us down. We live in a world of relentless motion, pressure, and performance. Yeshua (Jesus) doesn’t deny this. Instead, He speaks directly to those who are “weary and heavy-laden.” The Greek for “weary” (kopiao) means utterly worn out—soul-tired, not just physically fatigued. The burdens He mentions aren’t only external tasks but inward baggage: guilt, shame, expectations, and hidden wounds. Yeshua’s call isn’t merely an invitation to stop—it’s a call to come. He offers what no one else can: rest that restores.
When we read the promises of God, we must read them the way we ourselves want to be heard—in full context. Just as we expect others to understand our words in light of what we’ve said before, God expects us to interpret His promises in light of all He has revealed in His Word.
A few days ago, I shared a quote from B.J. Willhite, and today I want to delve deeper into his powerful insight. He wrote, “The law of prayer is the highest law of the universe—it can overcome the other laws by sanctioning God’s intervention. When implemented properly, the law of prayer permits God to exercise His sovereignty in a world under the dominion of a rebel with free will, in a universe governed by natural law.”
When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.
In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.
Tonight we’ll participate in the Independence Day celebration in Israel — and what a party! — shows, fireworks, music, dancing, everything under the sun!
Yesterday, Israel observed Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Remembrance Day—honoring the memory of the six million Jews who perished. Tragically, a recent poll reveals that nearly half of Israelis fear the possibility of another Holocaust. In light of this sobering reality, I want to share a powerful story of one remarkable woman who rescued 2,500 Jewish children from the ghettos during World War II.