Revelation 1:5-6 even from Jesus Christ the faithful Witness, the First-born from the dead and the Ruler of the kings of the earth. To Him who loved us and washed us from our sins in His own blood, 6 and made us kings and priests to God and His Father, to Him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.
Luke 10:19 Behold, I give to you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the authority of the enemy. And nothing shall by any means hurt you.
There is a sacred truth buried deep in Scripture that many believers never fully embrace: you have been given authority through the Messiah, not someday, but now. It is not reserved for the spiritually elite. It is not earned through effort. It is your inheritance as a child of God. And this authority was purchased at the Cross and activated the moment you were born again.
This divine authority is not about raw strength but about your position. Think of a traffic officer: he may not have the power to stop a car by himself, but he carries the authority of the government behind him. Likewise, as a believer, you stand not in your own power but under the royal authority of heaven—backed by the throne of the Almighty.
But there’s more: you are not only a believer—you are a king and a priest of the Most High (Revelation 1:6). That’s not poetic metaphor. That’s spiritual reality. You’ve been crowned with purpose and clothed with heavenly responsibility. A king rules with authority. A priest ministers with access. You carry both. When you recognize this identity, it changes how you walk, how you pray, how you confront darkness, and how you serve others. You begin to walk as you’re called to walk—royally, humbly, and powerfully.
Satan wants you to remain weak, defeated, and unaware of who you really are. He knows that a believer who understands their identity is dangerous to the kingdom of darkness. That’s why he works tirelessly to keep this truth hidden. Just as he blinds unbelievers to the gospel, he blinds believers to their kingdom identity—hoping they’ll never rise up and walk in the authority they’ve been given. But Scripture doesn’t stutter. Ephesians declares that we are seated with Christ in heavenly places (Ephesians 2:6). That’s not a position of defeat, but a position of victory and divine authority. It’s a throne room seat, not a place of pity. And from that place, you are called to reign—not with pride, but in alignment with the heart and will of your King.
It’s important to understand that this authority is not the same as spiritual gifts or emotional highs. It doesn’t depend on how we feel, but on who we are. Authority is your legal right as a citizen of the kingdom and a member of the royal family. It is exercised by faith, empowered by the Spirit, and backed by His Word.
So rise up today—not timidly, but boldly. Speak the Word of God with the authority of one who’s been entrusted with the King’s seal. Resist the enemy, knowing heaven stands behind you. Intercede for others as one who wears both a crown and a priestly robe. You are more than forgiven—you are enthroned with Christ. And when you recognize that, you’ll begin to walk as you were always meant to walk—with royal confidence, priestly compassion, and unshakable authority.
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In a world wearied by the failures of men, Isaiah 9:6 offers a startling promise of hope and strength: “The government shall be upon His shoulder.” This is not the language of politics as we know it — it’s the language of divine dominion. The Hebrew word for “government” here is misrah (מִשְׂרָה), a word so unique it appears only in these two verses—Isaiah 9:6 and 9:7. Unlike more common Hebrew words for government — mamlachah or memshalah, misrah speaks of a rare and elevated rule—divinely ordained, gentle in character, and eternal in scope. This is a government not imposed, but carried. Not tyrannical, but righteous and restorative.
The prophet Isaiah begins with language so familiar that it’s often read too quickly. Yet within this brief phrase lies a depth of mystery and majesty that anchors the entire gospel. “For unto us a Child is born” speaks of an earthly event–Messiah’s humanity. He was born as all men are born, taking on flesh, entering a specific culture, time, and lineage. The Hebrew word for “born” (yalad) reinforces His full identification with us. This is the miracle of the incarnation: God wrapped in the vulnerability of a newborn child.
When the Lord called us to be His ambassadors, He didn’t merely give us a message — He gave us a lifestyle to embody it. An ambassador is not just a messenger, but a living representation of the Kingdom they serve. That means our behavior, words, and example all matter deeply.
As ambassadors of Christ, we don’t just represent His Kingdom–we reflect His heart. Paul’s words in Colossians 4:5-6 are not just good advice; they’re a commissioning. We are called to walk wisely among those who do not yet know Christ, recognizing that every interaction is a divine opportunity.
“All this is from God…” These words usher us into the breathtaking reality that salvation is not born of human effort, wisdom, or willpower — it is entirely the work of God. From beginning to end, it is His plan, His initiative, His unrelenting grace. Through Yeshua (Jesus), God stepped into our brokenness and reconciled us to Himself, repairing the relationship that sin had shattered. Reconciliation is not merely a theological concept — it is the restoration of intimacy with the Father. We did not ascend to Him in holiness; He descended to us in mercy. The Creator did not wait for us to find our way back. No, He came down in Yeshua, arms stretched wide in love, calling us home.
In the age of social media, where hot takes go viral, outrage spreads in seconds, and comment sections become battlegrounds, James offers a divine pattern that stands in stark contrast to the digital frenzy. His instruction is timeless but urgently needed today: be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger. These three commands — revolutionary yet straightforward — cut through the noise of our reaction-driven culture and call us to a Spirit-led posture in a screen-lit world.
In Matthew 21, Yeshua (Jesus) approached a fig tree full of leaves but found no fruit. He cursed it, and it withered. This dramatic act was not about the tree—it was about Israel. The fig tree had the appearance of life, but it lacked the substance of transformation. It was a warning to a nation full of religion but void of repentance. The tree became a symbol of spiritual barrenness, of form without fruit.