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]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.
King David wrote these words generations before the empty tomb shook the foundations of death. At first glance, Psalm 16 reads like a personal prayer of trust — a yearning for security and closeness with God. But beneath the surface, the Spirit was revealing something deeper, something eternal: a promise not just for David, but for all of us.
The majestic Messianic prophecy of Isaiah 9 culminates in a powerful declaration: “The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this.” Not might. Not maybe. Not if we work hard enough. It will be done — because God Himself is passionate to see it through. The Hebrew word for “zeal” here is קִנְאָה (kin’ah), which also means jealousy or burning passion. This is not passive interest — it’s the fiery determination of the LORD of Hosts to establish His Kingdom. The same fiery zeal that struck Egypt with plagues—shattering the power of false gods, that parted the Red Sea and made a way where there was none, that birthed a nation from the womb of slavery, and that drove the Son of God to the cross at Calvary — is the very zeal that will fulfill every promise declared in Isaiah 9.
In a world weary from political upheaval, moral confusion, and fleeting peace, Isaiah offers us a vision of something profoundly different—an ever-increasing kingdom ruled by a King whose justice is not compromised, whose peace is not fleeting, and whose throne is eternally secure. The phrase “of the increase of His government and peace there will be no end” speaks not just of duration, but of expansion—a kingdom that doesn’t plateau, doesn’t weaken, and doesn’t shrink back in the face of darkness. Instead, it advances, multiplies, and transforms.