Isaiah 58:8-9a Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up speedily; your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard. 9a Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer; you shall cry, and he will say, ‘Here I am.’
When we hear the word Hineini—”Here I am,” many of us immediately think of the prophet Isaiah in chapter 6, standing before the throne of God, overwhelmed by His holiness. After being cleansed by the burning coal, Isaiah hears the Lord ask, “Whom shall I send?” and responds with the now-famous phrase: “Hineini—Here am I. Send me.”
It’s a powerful moment of surrender and commissioning. But what’s easy to miss is that God Himself also uses this same word in Isaiah 58:9: “Then you will call, and the LORD will answer; you will cry for help, and He will say: ‘Hineini.'”
Selah — Think about that.
We usually think of Hineini as our response to God: “Here I am, send me.” It speaks of readiness, obedience, and surrender—and it is. But in this passage, we see something even more stunning—God says it first.
The God of the universe answers the cries of His people not just with action, but with His presence. He says, “Hineini”—“Here I am.”
When God called Abraham to lay his beloved son on the altar, Abraham didn’t hesitate—he answered, “Hineini.” (Genesis 22:1) When God called Moses from the burning bush to confront Pharaoh and deliver a nation, Moses stood barefoot on holy ground and said, “Hineini.” (Exodus 3:4) When God’s voice thundered through the heavens in Isaiah’s vision, the prophet stepped forward and declared, “Hineini, send me.” (Isaiah 6:8)
But in Isaiah 58, the pattern is reversed. God says to a repentant, humbled nation: “Hineini.” He’s not just summoning us to come near—He is declaring that He already has.
He’s not far off. He’s not waiting for us to earn our way through ritual or religious perfection. He’s watching. He’s waiting. He longs for people who will humble themselves, not just with words but with their whole heart. To a repentant people, God doesn’t just answer prayers—He shows up. Not through an intermediary. Not from a distance. He steps in and says, “Hineini.” I’m here. I’m near. I’m with you.
Ultimately, we see Hineini in Yeshua (Jesus), who knocks at the door of every heart. In the Hebrew New Testament, Revelation 3:20 begins with this very word—Hineni—”Here am I, I stand at the door and knock…” This is a clear echo of God’s continual desire to be present, personal, and available to all who will open to Him.
So yes, let’s be like Isaiah and say, “Hineini–Here am I, Lord, send me.” But let’s never forget–we can say it because God said it first.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Isaiah recalls the Exodus as the supreme display of God’s Z’roah, His Arm of glory. Though the people saw Moses raise his staff over the Red Sea, it was not Moses’ power that split the waters. Behind the prophet’s hand was the Arm of the LORD — majestic, glorious, and unstoppable. The sea parted not to honor Moses, but to exalt the Name of the God who sent him. The Red Sea became a stage for God to reveal His glory, so that His Name would echo through generations as the Deliverer of His people.
Jeremiah uttered these words when everything around him looked hopeless. Babylon’s armies surrounded Jerusalem, the city was on the brink of destruction, and yet God told Jeremiah to buy a field as a prophetic sign that restoration would come. The prophet responded in awe: the God who created the heavens and the earth by His outstretched arm (bizroa netuyah) is not bound by human circumstances. The same God who set galaxies in place and boundaries for the seas is the God who still moves to redeem His people. Truly, nothing is too hard for Him.
Isaiah’s words summon one of the most dramatic images of God’s saving power: the Z’roah — the Arm of the LORD — cutting Rahab in pieces and piercing the dragon.
Here, Rahab is not the woman of Jericho but a poetic name for Egypt (Psalm 87:4), often symbolizing arrogant nations and the dark spiritual powers behind them. In Hebrew poetry, Rahab also evokes the sea monster of chaos, a stand-in for the forces that oppose God’s order. To say the Arm “cut Rahab in pieces” is to recall how God shattered Egypt’s pride and broke the grip of the powers that enslaved His people.
Psalm 98 is a victory psalm — a call to lift up a “new song” because the Z’roah, the holy arm of the LORD, has brought decisive triumph. In Hebrew thought, the arm is the active extension of the will, the power that brings intention into reality. To call it “holy” is to declare that it is set apart, dedicated fully to God’s purpose, incapable of corruption. The psalmist celebrates that salvation is not a hidden act, but an open demonstration — God’s righteousness revealed before the eyes of the nations.
This is one of the most intimate revelations of the Z’roah in Scripture. God looks for a human intercessor but finds none. No man can bridge the gap. So His own Arm accomplishes the work. In Hebrew, v’tosha lo zeroa — “His arm saved for Him” — reveals that salvation originates from within God Himself, not from any outside help. Isaiah adds that His own righteousness sustained Him — it upheld His resolve to save — and His fury upheld Him, a holy passion that would not rest until justice was accomplished.
To “bare” the arm means to roll up the sleeve and reveal the full readiness for action. In Isaiah’s prophecy, this is a global unveiling — no longer hidden, the Z’roah is on display for all nations to witness. This speaks directly of Yeshua’s (Jesus’) public ministry and, ultimately, His crucifixion.
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.