Daniel 10:12-14 Then he said to me, “Do not fear, Daniel, for from the first day that you set your heart to understand, and to humble yourself before your God, your words were heard; and I have come because of your words. 13 But the prince of the kingdom of Persia withstood me twenty-one days; and behold, Michael, one of the chief princes, came to help me, for I had been left alone there with the kings of Persia. 14 Now I have come to make you understand what will happen to your people in the latter days [acharit hayamim (in the end of days), for the vision refers to many days yet to come.”
Ephesians 6:12 For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the world’s rulers, of the darkness of this age, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
Make no mistake—the spirit of antisemitism is very much alive today. Yet this isn’t a new struggle. It is an ancient spiritual war that has been ongoing for thousands of years. As people worldwide celebrate Purim, recalling the Jewish people’s deliverance from Haman’s evil schemes that took place in the ancient Kingdom of Persia (Iran), we are reminded of a deeper reality: a spiritual conflict between heavenly powers and demonic principalities.
In Daniel’s time, this battle was clearly depicted as the Principality of Persia waged war against the angels of God, delaying Daniel’s answer to prayer for twenty-one days.
When the Apostle Paul wrote of our battle being not against flesh and blood but against spiritual principalities, I firmly believe he was recalling this ancient conflict revealed to Daniel. The very same spiritual enemy who opposed God’s people then continues to oppose Israel today.
When we witness this in the rhetoric and actions of modern-day Iranian leaders who openly call for Israel’s destruction, this is not just geopolitics; it’s the continuation of the spiritual war that was present in Esther’s day, a prophetic battle outlined long ago.
This ongoing struggle reaffirms the truth and power of our faith. The persistent hatred towards the Jewish people testifies to the existence of our God. The unrest and conflict we see today in the Middle East serve as undeniable evidence of Daniel’s prophecy unfolding before our eyes. Indeed, these are signs of the “acharit hayamim,” the end of days.
So let us grasp this truth clearly: the conflict Israel faces physically is, in reality, a spiritual war.
We have been divinely positioned, just like Esther, for such a time as this. (Esther 4:14) And like the sons of Issachar (1 Chronicles 12:32), who understood their times and knew precisely what Israel should do, we too must discern our role in God’s prophetic plan.
Let us rise boldly in this hour! Stand firm in prayer, passionately seeking God’s divine purposes for Israel and the Middle East. Remember, we have indeed been born for this very moment in history — for such a time as this!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]These verses capture one of the most profound Messianic truths in all of Scripture. What man cast aside, God exalted. What the builders saw as flawed and unfit, God chose as the foundation of His eternal plan. Yeshua (Jesus), the rejected One, is the very cornerstone upon which salvation, identity, and destiny are built. This is more than a theological concept — it’s a divine reversal that reveals the heart of redemption. Rejection by man does not disqualify–it often qualifies you for God’s greatest purposes.
These verses are far more than ancient lyrics — they are a spiritual invitation. The psalmist doesn’t just admire the gate — he pleads for it to open. “Open to me the gates of righteousness…” This is the cry of a heart that longs for access to God, not by merit, but by mercy. In Hebrew thought, gates represent transition points — thresholds between the common and the holy, the outside and the inner court, the temporal and the eternal. These are not man-made doors — they are divine entrances into the presence and promises of the LORD.
As we continue our study in Psalm 118, I want to take a deep dive into verses 17-18, where the psalmist makes one of the boldest declarations in all of Scripture: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD.” This isn’t the voice of someone untouched by pain — it’s the cry of someone who has been through the fire and come out declaring God’s faithfulness. This statement is not a denial of suffering; it’s a defiance of death. It’s the resolve of a heart that’s been chastened, refined, and pressed, yet remains confident in the God who preserves life — not just for survival, but for purpose.
Over the past two devotionals, we heard the song of the redeemed and stood at the wells of salvation. We saw how strength, song, and salvation flow from Yeshua Himself — how the joy of drawing from His presence is not just a poetic promise but a lifeline for our day. Yet today, we stand at a prophetic threshold. Something has shifted. Something has broken open. We are not only being refreshed — we are being awakened and called.
Yesterday, we heard the anthem of the redeemed rise like a trumpet blast: “The LORD is my strength and song, and He has become my salvation.” We explored how this was more than personal — it was prophetic, Messianic, and generational. We saw Yeshua not only as our Deliverer but as the very embodiment of God’s strength, the melody of our praise, and the fulfillment of every promise. We stood in awe as tents of rejoicing rose in the midst of warfare, and households became sanctuaries of celebration. But today, we go deeper — we step to the well.
There’s a reason this verse resounds like a national anthem of the redeemed. It’s not just a personal declaration—it’s a generational cry that echoes back to Moses at the Red Sea (Exodus 15:2) and forward to the final deliverance of Israel. The Hebrew word for salvation—Yeshua—makes this verse unmistakably Messianic. It isn’t a vague deliverance. It is the revelation of Yeshua (Jesus), the Deliverer, who embodies strength, becomes our song, and stands as the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan.
The cry that shattered the stillness of Golgotha—“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46)—was not a random cry of despair, but the deliberate voice of Yeshua pointing to Scripture. As He hung on the tree, bearing the sin of the world, He invoked the ancient words of David—not only identifying Himself as the righteous sufferer, but signaling that Psalm 22 was unfolding before their very eyes. In that moment, heaven and earth bore witness to a divine mystery: the Holy One, seemingly abandoned, was fulfilling a prophecy written a millennium earlier. Yeshua did not merely suffer—He fulfilled every word, every shadow, every stroke of divine prophecy.