Matthew 6:32-33 (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.
When Elianna was two years old, we wrote this devotional fifteen years ago that I believe is relevant especially as we celebrated Father's day around the world.
We have a cord-free, battery-free alarm clock -- we call her Elianna. Like clockwork, at 6:45 each morning our 2-year old daughter, Elianna wakes up and begins calling for us to come and greet her good morning. At this point, my wife and I have come to the conclusion that those 8-hour sleep nights we used to enjoy just aren't going to happen again --at least for a long, long time.
What's interesting to me though, is that when Elianna wakes up, she doesn't wonder if we'll come to her. She waits eagerly and expectantly to see us walk in, sleepy-eyed and morning-haired as we may be. Elianna doesn't wake up worrying about what she'll wear today and if she'll be warm enough. She expects that she'll be changed and dressed up nice and warm when it's cold. She doesn't worry about if or what she's going to eat. She expects that we'll know she's hungry and will serve her a yummy nutritious breakfast. When Elianna falls down, she immediately looks toward us, holding out her hands to receive our hugs and kisses so it will be "all better". She doesn't question whether or not we love her. She's sure of it! Elianna has no worries. She expects that we will take care of her every need.
Don't you wish you were a baby sometimes? No worries -- getting pampered and hugged and kissed. Well, I have good news for you -- you are a baby! You are the Lord's baby! We are His children and He loves us with an everlasting and perfect love. He cares for us just like we care for our little Elianna -- in fact, much, much more than that!
From this morning on, let's start coming to the Lord as we are -- His children! We needn't worry about anything. Our Father awaits the time when we will totally put our trust in Him. He loves us and He knows every one of our needs before even a word is on our lips! Let's practice putting our worries aside and determine to expect our Heavenly Father to meet our every need. And don't forget to take some time out today and say -- Abba, thank you for loving me!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]The Hebrew phrase “z’roah moshel lo” paints the picture of an arm that governs with both strength and care. The same Z’roah that brought Israel out of Egypt in power now establishes righteous order and sustains His people in love. Deliverance without rulership is incomplete; the Redeemer becomes the King — and the King rules as a Shepherd. The Arm does not act independently but moves in perfect submission to the Head, carrying out the will of the Father.
I’ll be doing a series on the “Arm of God,” beginning with this first message — The Arm that Redeems. The Hebrew Z’roah (זְרוֹעַ) means “arm” or “strength,” and in ancient Hebrew culture, the arm symbolizes active power in motion — strength applied for a purpose. In the Exodus account, God tells Moses He will redeem Israel “with an outstretched arm” (bizroa netuyah). This was not poetic metaphor; it was God’s declaration of decisive intervention. The Z’roah is the covenant-keeping arm that moves history, enforces promises, and breaks oppression. Every Pesach (Passover), during the seder — the festive meal of remembrance — the roasted lamb shank bone, the Z’roah, rests on the plate as a silent yet powerful witness to God’s mighty deliverance.
These closing verses of Psalm 118 begin with an unshakable proclamation: “The LORD is God.” In Hebrew, it’s emphatic — YHVH, He is El — the declaration that all authority, holiness, and sovereignty belong to Him alone. Yet this is not just a statement of who He is — it’s a testimony of what He has done: “He has made His light to shine upon us.” This light is more than the glow of the sun — it is the revelation of His presence, the warmth of His favor, and the piercing truth that chases away every shadow. His light doesn’t simply illuminate — it transforms.
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.