2 Corinthians 2:11 lest Satan should take advantage of us; for we are not ignorant of his devices.
Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev used to tell of a time when there was a wave of petty theft in the Soviet Union. To curtail this, the authorities put guards up around the factories.
At a timber works in Leningrad, one guard knew the workers in the factory very well. The first evening, out came Pyotr Petrovich with a wheelbarrow containing a great bulky sack with a suspicious-looking object inside. "All right, Petrovich," said the guard, "What have you got there?" "Oh, just sawdust and shavings," Petrovich replied. "Come on," the guard said, "I wasn’t born yesterday. Tip it out."
The worker tipped, and nothing came out but sawdust and shavings. So he was allowed to put it all back again and go home. When the same thing happened every night of the week, the guard became frustrated. Finally, his curiosity overcame his frustration. "Petrovich," he said, "I know you. Tell me what you’re smuggling out of here, and I’ll let you go."
"Wheelbarrows, my friend, " said Petrovich, "wheelbarrows."
Is your attention being diverted? Think about it. Are you (allowing yourself to be) preoccupied with something that seems innocent while the real, significant, substantial matter is slipping by every day, unnoticed? The strategies of Satan to divert our eyes onto “sawdust” and miss "wheelbarrows" are many. What is the "sawdust" in your life, in mine? For some of us, it might even be a fascinated preoccupation with Last Days events, which diverts us from the mandate to make disciples...for others, it might be neglecting our children for the sake of "ministry." If we take the time to look, each of us really knows how we miss the "wheelbarrows" for the "sawdust." But just like that savvy guard, we ought to wise up quickly and identify the problem. Right?
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]God has always longed for intimacy with us. He formed us for Himself–to walk with Him, to know Him, to delight in His Presence. This is the very heartbeat of creation: relationship, not religion. Yet sin drove a wedge between us. A veil was drawn, shutting out the light of His face and placing distance where there was once communion.
A beachhead is the first critical objective in a military invasion–the spot where a force lands on enemy territory and secures a position for greater advancement. It’s the place of breakthrough. And it’s also the place of fiercest resistance.
David wrote Psalm 3 while running for his life — betrayed, heartbroken, and hunted by his own son, Absalom. The weight of rebellion wasn’t just political; it was personal. His household had turned against him. Friends became foes. Loyal hearts grew cold. The throne he once held was now surrounded by enemies, and the whispers grew louder: “There is no salvation for him in God.”
Psalm 2 is a divine announcement — a heavenly decree that demands the world’s attention. It begins with a question: “Why do the nations rage, and the peoples plot in vain?” (Ps. 2:1). The nations rise up, not against injustice or tyranny, but against the rule of God’s Meshiach (Messiah). That Anointed is Yeshua — the Son whom the Father has set on His holy hill in Zion (Ps. 2:6). The psalm strips away all pretense and exposes the heart of human rebellion: it is a refusal to be ruled by His Messiah.
Psalm 1 opens with a sobering warning about the quiet, deadly slide into sin. The man without God doesn’t become a scorner overnight — he drifts there gradually. First, he walks in ungodly counsel, entertaining worldly thoughts. Then, he stands in the path of sinners, embracing their way of life. Finally, he sits in the seat of the scornful, hardened in heart and mocking what is sacred. This progression — from a man without God to scorner — reveals how small compromises grow into full rebellion, dulling the conscience and deadening the soul.
Last night marked the beginning of Shavuot–a feast that many Christians recognize as Pentecost, the day the Holy Spirit was poured out in Acts 2. But the roots of Shavuot stretch back much further. Long before that upper room encounter–about 1,500 years earlier–Shavuot was the day God gave the law to Moses on Mount Sinai, writing His commandments on tablets of stone.
In a world trembling with uncertainty–political unrest, economic turmoil, natural disasters–God is speaking again. Not in whispers, but with the shaking that reorders lives, redefines kingdoms, and removes everything that cannot stand in the presence of His glory. He is preparing us for a kingdom that cannot be moved. But in the midst of the shaking, there is rest — a deep, unshakable rest reserved for the people of God. Not rest as the world gives — temporary relief or distraction — but the kind that anchors the soul in the storm, the kind that is rooted in Yeshua (Jesus), our rest.