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]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.