2 Kings 2:14 Then he took the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him, and struck the water, and said, “Where is the LORD God of Elijah?” And when he also had struck the water, it was divided this way and that; and Elisha crossed over.
Over the past few years, some leaders who once inspired many have fallen into scandals that have brought harm and confusion to the body of Christ. In moments like these, it’s easy to feel disillusioned or lost, as if the work of God depends on human vessels who have failed us. But I’m reminded of how Elisha responded when Elijah was taken from him. His eyes were not on the departing servant but on the living God. “Where is the Lord God of Elijah?” he cried — not, “Where is Elijah?” That cry holds a lesson for us today: our hope and strength are not in human leaders, but in the God who works through them—and who remains faithful even when men falter.
Elisha’s heart longed for the God who had empowered Elijah–the God who shuts the heavens, calls down fire, feeds the hungry through ravens, and defends His name before kings and nations. Mighty acts of faith marked Elijah’s life because his confidence rested in the Almighty, not in himself. And when his race was run, God’s power was no less present, no less ready to act, no less able to raise up a new servant and continue His work. The God of Elijah is the God of life and death, of judgment and mercy, of fire and rain, of heaven and earth — and He is unchanged today.
When Elisha stepped forward, he met his first obstacle — the swollen Jordan, barring his way. But he did not shrink back. He lifted Elijah’s mantle, struck the water, and cried out, “Where is the Lord God of Elijah?” And the God of Elijah answered. The river parted. The path opened. And Elisha stepped into his calling. So it will be for us. When our Jordans rise up, when leaders disappoint, when challenges seem insurmountable, let our hearts cry not for men, but for the God who never fails.
The God of Elisha revealed Himself not just in mighty acts, but in tender mercies — healing poisoned waters (2 Kings 2:19-22), multiplying a widow’s oil (2 Kings 4:1-7), feeding a multitude (2 Kings 4:42-44), restoring the dead to life (2 Kings 4:18-37), making iron float (2 Kings 6:1-7). This is the God who steps into our kitchens and workshops, our debts and needs, our hidden battles and silent cries. He is as present in the ordinary as in the extraordinary, as near in our weakness as in our victories.
Beloved, today God calls us to lift our eyes from men to Himself. Leaders may fall, heroes may stumble, but the Lord God of Elijah and Elisha remains. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He waits for us to trust Him afresh, to cry out for His presence, to believe in His power — not in our strength, not in human vessels, but in Him alone.
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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.