John 9:4 I must work the works of Him who sent Me while it is day; the night is coming when no one can work.
Right now, as I pen these words, over millions of Americans are under an unprecedented severe winter advisory. Meteorologists are anticipating records to be broken in this historic storm.
All this talk of snow reminded me of when I was growing up in Baltimore, Maryland during the winter.
I always wished for a snow day so that I didn’t have to go to school the following day. I would anxiously watch the news late into the evening for any hint of snow. Just a ½ inch was usually enough for schools to close!
Aside from the weather report, there was one sign that almost always meant freedom the next day: if Mom and Dad rushed to the grocery store because on the East Coast, the slightest hint of snow sends everyone running for milk, eggs, and bread to be sure they’re ready for the storm.
Anyone with their eyes half-open can see the clouds on the horizon, and we ought to be watching and preparing as carefully as I used to do growing up in Baltimore.
We need to be carefully watching, and at the same time, actively working for the Kingdom, because the day is rapidly approaching when no more work can be done! So take it to heart, continue to press through, press on, and by all means, do not grow weary in well doing — for you shall truly reap if you do not faint!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]When we read the promises of God, we must read them the way we ourselves want to be heard—in full context. Just as we expect others to understand our words in light of what we’ve said before, God expects us to interpret His promises in light of all He has revealed in His Word.
A few days ago, I shared a quote from B.J. Willhite, and today I want to delve deeper into his powerful insight. He wrote, “The law of prayer is the highest law of the universe—it can overcome the other laws by sanctioning God’s intervention. When implemented properly, the law of prayer permits God to exercise His sovereignty in a world under the dominion of a rebel with free will, in a universe governed by natural law.”
When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.
In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.
Tonight we’ll participate in the Independence Day celebration in Israel — and what a party! — shows, fireworks, music, dancing, everything under the sun!
Yesterday, Israel observed Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Remembrance Day—honoring the memory of the six million Jews who perished. Tragically, a recent poll reveals that nearly half of Israelis fear the possibility of another Holocaust. In light of this sobering reality, I want to share a powerful story of one remarkable woman who rescued 2,500 Jewish children from the ghettos during World War II.
One night a house caught fire and a young boy was forced to flee flames by jumping to the ground from the roof. His father stood on the ground below with outstretched arms, calling to his son, “Jump! I’ll catch you.” But the boy was afraid — he couldn’t see his father — all he could see was flame, smoke, and blackness. He was afraid. Still, his father kept yelling: “Jump son! I will catch you!” But the boy refused, crying, “Daddy, I can’t see you!” His father replied, “It’s ok son — I can see you — and that’s all that matters!”