Psalms 11:3-7 if the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do?” 4 The LORD is in his holy temple; the LORD’s throne is in heaven; his eyes see, his eyelids test the children of man. 5 The LORD tests the righteous, but his soul hates the wicked and the one who loves violence [Hamas]. 6 Let him rain coals on the wicked; fire and sulfur and a scorching wind shall be the portion of their cup. 7 For the LORD is righteous; he loves righteous deeds; the upright shall behold his face.
This piercing question opens Psalm 11 like a cry from the heart in times of trouble. It’s a question we ask when law and order collapse, when truth is ridiculed, and when those who do evil seem to triumph. The foundations — the principles of righteousness, justice, and truth that uphold society — are under siege. And it begs the question: What can God’s people do when everything righteous seems to be crumbling?
The answer comes immediately: “The LORD is in His holy temple; the LORD’s throne is in heaven.” God has not abdicated His throne. He is not shaken by the shaking of this world. While evil rises and darkness spreads, God remains sovereign, seated above it all. He sees. He knows. “His eyes behold, His eyelids test the children of man.” He is not blind to what is happening. He is testing the hearts of all people — especially the righteous.
The Hebrew word for violence in Psalm 11:5 is hamas — the very same word that names the modern terrorist organization Hamas. This is no linguistic coincidence. In Scripture, hamas describes more than just aggression; it embodies a spirit of brutal injustice, lawlessness, oppression, and bloodshed. It’s the same violent corruption that filled the earth in the days of Noah (Genesis 6:11), provoking God to cleanse the world with judgment. The spirit of hamas is ancient, and it remains active in our day — cloaked in modern ideology but rooted in the same rebellion against God’s order.
God is not passive toward such evil — He hates hamas. Whether it manifests as personal cruelty or coordinated terror, He detests those who love violence. Psalm 11:6 makes the verdict clear: “Let Him rain coals on the wicked; fire and sulfur and a scorching wind shall be the portion of their cup.” This isn’t poetic metaphor — it’s prophetic reality. The rise of hamas may be celebrated in the streets of men, but it stands condemned by the throne of heaven. God’s justice is sure. Evil may have its moment, but it will not have the final word.
But even as judgment falls, a promise shines for the faithful: “The LORD is righteous… the upright shall behold His face.” God delights in righteousness. He takes pleasure in those who remain upright, even when the world collapses around them. For those who endure, the reward is more than rescue — it’s relationship. They will see His face.
Take heart, righteous one. Though the foundations shake, ḥāmās—violence and lawlessness—floods the earth, and the wicked rise with boldness, do not be moved. God is still on His throne. He sees, He tests, He judges—and He remembers the faithful.
Embrace the testing. It’s not to break you, but to prepare you. Each trial draws you closer, deepens your dependence, and refines your walk. And in the end, the promise remains: the upright will behold His face.
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[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.