Jonah 1:4,5 But the Lord sent out a great wind on the sea, and there was a mighty tempest on the sea, so that the ship was about to be broken up. Then the mariners were afraid; and every man cried out to his god, and threw the cargo that was in the ship into the sea, to lighten the load. But Jonah had gone down into the lowest parts of the ship, had lain down, and was fast asleep.
It must have been a bad storm. These men were experienced, hardened sailors who had seen it all at sea. If they were scared, this could have been the first “perfect storm” since Noah’s flood. So they started the first interfaith prayer meeting in the Bible, each man crying out to his own god. As the ship groaned and creaked in howling wind and massive waves, and the men threw cargo overboard in a desperate attempt to save it, where was Jonah? On deck helping them? Confidently praying to His own God? Shaking with fear and paralyzed with deep conviction? No, he’s taking a nap down below…
How could anyone sleep through a storm like this — especially a prophet of the Most High? I see a few possibilities: one, Jonah was a prophet whose relationship with the Lord was so close he was used to trusting Him through all kinds of difficulties, so he was just abiding in his usual trust. Remember Yeshua (Jesus) also slept during a very bad storm on the Sea of Galilee. Or, maybe the hold of the ship was so deep and Jonah was so tired that he wasn’t aware of the grave danger up above; a perfectly natural explanation. And there’s one more possibility: Jonah’s disobedience made him vulnerable to the enemy. ( For example, I have at times been somehow induced into slumber when I’ve made a serious decision to spend time in prayer.)
We know for sure the enemy wants us to sleep while the world falls apart around us. His interests are served when we relax in our own eternal security while others are dying in the storms of this world. But Jonah’s apathy toward Nineveh morphed into one which actually threatened his own life, without his even being aware of it. He had the authority and capacity to save the others, but the enemy may have poured out on him such a spirit of apathy and deadening slumber that it required the desperate pagans, far more aware of the danger, to rouse the prophet back to his true calling.
Storms are brewing of every kind; social, economic, political, military. Houses are “burning”; ships are “sinking”. Many lives are falling apart. We might be weighed down and paralyzed by it all, or just deeply apathetic because they all deserve judgment while we await the “rapture”. But I don’t think the Lord wants us to sleep through these storms. At least, not with Jonah’s attitude.
So be awakened to your calling and sound the alarm! As the very prophetic words of Yeshua (Jesus) are coming to pass — it should be a wake-up call to us, for He told us when you see “all of these things” coming to pass, know that the Kingdom is near … even at the doors! [Matthew 24:33]
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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.
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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.