John 8:31-32 Then Jesus said to the Jews who believed on Him, If you continue in My Word, you are My disciples indeed. 32 And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.
We often think of freedom as the ability to do what we want, when we want, without interference. So when Yeshua says things like “Don’t worry about tomorrow,” “Forgive seventy times seven,” or “Turn the other cheek,” they strike us as anything but freeing. They sound like burdens, not blessings — commands that restrict rather than release.
But that reaction reveals a deeper misunderstanding. The problem isn’t with Yeshua’s (Jesus’) words — it’s with how we define freedom.
In today’s world, people often think being free means being in charge. The world teaches that freedom means doing whatever we want, making our own choices, and not letting anyone or anything stop us. It’s about trying to get rid of anything that might stand in our way so we can take full control of our lives. The more control we think we have, the more we think we’re truly free.
But this definition is deceptive. The more we strive to control, the more we fear losing it. We become enslaved to anxiety, anger, and endless striving. True freedom can’t be built on fear. It doesn’t come from ruling over life–it comes from being released from the need to.
Scripture offers a radically different definition. According to the Bible, true freedom isn’t found in self-determination—it’s found in surrender—not surrender to chaos or despair but to a good, sovereign, loving God who alone holds the universe together.
Yeshua didn’t come to make us completely independent — He came to give us a relationship with Himself. When He says, “Follow me,” He’s not trying to trap us or take away our lives — He’s actually showing us the way to real freedom. It might not make sense initially because it means letting go of the idea that we’re in control. But when we do, we’re set free from fear, from constantly trying to prove ourselves, and from the heavy pressure of trying to fix everything on our own.
This is what makes Yeshua’s teachings so powerful and different. Forgiveness, trust, generosity, and humility aren’t rules that hold us back—they’re actually the keys that set us free. They open the door to a new way of life because we simply trust the One who’s watching over us.
When we live by the world’s definition of freedom, we carry a burden we were never meant to bear. But when we embrace the biblical view, we find that true freedom is not the power to control life, but the peace to trust the One who already does.
One of the most amazing truths in God’s Kingdom is this: true freedom comes when we surrender. When you give your life to Him, you’re no longer trapped by the pressure to perform, please everyone, or chase after your own way. Instead, you’re set free—free to love without fear, to give generously, to forgive completely, and to live with peace and purpose. Why? Because your life is anchored in Someone far greater than yourself. That’s real freedom—and when the Son sets you free, you are free indeed!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Psalm 118:24 is not merely about enjoying a new day — it is a prophetic declaration of a divinely appointed moment. “This is the day the LORD has made” speaks of a kairos moment in history when heaven and earth converge. It points to the day when Messiah would be revealed, salvation would walk into Jerusalem, and God’s covenant plan would take a dramatic step forward. This is not the casual celebration of a sunrise — it is the joyful response to God’s redemptive unfolding.
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.