Isaiah 61:10 I will greatly rejoice in the LORD, my soul shall be joyful in my God; for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, and as a bride adorneth herself with her jewels.
Here’s another interesting Hebrew word parallel. The Hebrew word for “love” or “affection”, “chiba”, is formed by the same root letters as the word, “chova”, “obligation”, “debt”, or “duty”. In Hebrew, the only difference between these two words is a few vowel points. But you say, “Isn’t love the very opposite of obligation !?” Well, yes and no. The Hebrew language has a wonderful way of relating concepts which seem incompatible.
The common romantic view of love in films and novels draws heavily on strong feelings of affection or passion. Even our love for God can flow from those kinds of feelings. (The apostle Peter was filled with them shortly before he denied the Lord three times.) But love based on obligation is another matter, and it’s significant that the Jewish marriage contract, the “Ketubah”, contains a list of “obligations” that a husband is required to fulfill for his wife. He might be passionately “in love” with her when he signs this contract, yet the wisdom of experience says this passion may wither with time, so the marriage ceremony formally “obligates” him to his spouse. By accepting these “obligations”, he agrees that love is nurtured by commitment.
One Rabbi commented: “Love which flows from obligation endures, but when obligation follows love, both are doomed.”
Our bridal relationship to Yeshua (Jesus) also reflects this reality. His “obligation” to us flowed from an irrevocable decision of His will and commitment to love us…which cost Him His human life. We might speculate on the Lord’s feelings for us, but we don’t have to wonder at all about His obligation, or the absolute security we have in His love for us. Our love for Him can be the same. Feelings of love are wonderful. But they also come and go. And there’ll be times when we wonder, “Where’s that lovin’ feeling? Is God really there?” And that’s when the sure foundation of commitment will arise in the heart of every true lover.
God’s great love for us is expressed in His commitment; to cover our debt of sin; guide us through this earthly life, and be our eternal Heavenly Husband. Cleansed by His blood and filled with His Spirit we can love Him and one another with the same commitment. The feelings will follow.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
Just as a bird needs both wings to fly, a victorious life requires both faith and obedience. In Joshua, God calls Joshua to lead Israel into the Promised Land, not just with bold confidence but with complete dependence on His Word. Faith believes what God says; obedience acts upon it. One without the other stalls the journey. This moment wasn’t just about crossing into the promise land — it was about stepping into covenant reality, where trust in God’s promise was matched by surrender to God’s command.