Song of Solomon 6:3 (ASV) I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine; He feedeth his flock among the lilies,
As we continue our study for Elul, a month set apart for repentance in preparation for the fall feasts, we find a message hidden in the four Hebrew letters spelling the name of this special month. Alef-Lamed-Vav-Lamed form an “acronym” for a well-known passage in the Song of Solomon: Ani l-dodi v-dodi li or in English, “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.”
This season of reflection and repentance need not only be a time for self-correction, humbling, and turning from sin, but perhaps even more significantly, a season for returning to our first love, turning to our bridegroom with bridal affection, respect and admiration.
We may well be reminded of the wise virgins in Matthew 25. Their great enthusiasm for the soon coming bridegroom moved them to thoughtful preparation for his advent. Deep and expectant love was their motivation. Their foolish sisters were not ready when the night-call came and found themselves outside the wedding banquet with the door shut!
Yeshua said, “Behold I am coming soon!” [Rev.22:7;12] That was nearly 2000 years ago. Can you imagine just how much closer we are to that “soon”? Deal with your sins and clean up your life so you won’t quench the Spirit and find your lamp going out. But even more, remember your first love, rekindle your affection for your Heavenly Bridegroom. Make Elul your month for Divine romance.
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Life wears us down. We live in a world of relentless motion, pressure, and performance. Yeshua (Jesus) doesn’t deny this. Instead, He speaks directly to those who are “weary and heavy-laden.” The Greek for “weary” (kopiao) means utterly worn out—soul-tired, not just physically fatigued. The burdens He mentions aren’t only external tasks but inward baggage: guilt, shame, expectations, and hidden wounds. Yeshua’s call isn’t merely an invitation to stop—it’s a call to come. He offers what no one else can: rest that restores.
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.