1 Kings 3:5-9 At Gibeon the LORD appeared to Solomon in a dream by night; and God said, “Ask! What shall I give you?” 6 And Solomon said: “You have shown great mercy to Your servant David my father, because he walked before You in truth, in righteousness, and in uprightness of heart with You; You have continued this great kindness for him, and You have given him a son to sit on his throne, as it is this day. 7 Now, O LORD my God, You have made Your servant king instead of my father David, but I am a little child; I do not know how to go out or come in. 8 And Your servant is in the midst of Your people whom You have chosen, a great people, too numerous to be numbered or counted. 9 Therefore give to Your servant an understanding heart to judge Your people, that I may discern between good and evil. For who is able to judge this great people of Yours?”
Deut. 28:6-7 “Blessed shall you be when you come in, and blessed shall you be when you go out. 7 “The LORD will cause your enemies who rise against you to be defeated before your face; they shall come out against you one way and flee before you seven ways.
In the Book of Kings, when King Solomon began his reign, God asked him, “What shall I give you?” He replied, “I am a little child; I do not know how to go out or come in” (1 Kings 3:7). Such a phrase seems curious, yet it holds deep significance. It is echoed throughout Scripture, revealing a principle that intimacy with God leads to victory!
When Moses pleaded for a leader to replace him, he asked the Lord for a leader who could lead the Israelites “to go out and come in” so they wouldn’t be like sheep without a shepherd (Numbers 27:17). Joshua was chosen. He was one of the two spies, Caleb being the other, who said, “Adonai is with us”- do not fear the giants of the land! (Numbers 14:7-9)
After Joshua was appointed leader, he spoke to Caleb, who, at eighty-five, boldly claimed his strength for battle was as strong as ever, “both for going out and for coming in.” (Joshua 14:11)
Again, this expression surfaces regarding David in 1 Samuel 18. Here, amidst the praises of the people who acclaimed, “Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands” (1 Samuel 18:7), we see that Israel loved David because “he went out and came in before them.” (1 Samuel 18:13)
What can we learn from these faithful servants? They all shared a profound intimacy with God. Moses spoke to God face-to-face as one speaks to a friend (Exodus 33:11), Joshua was one with whom the Spirit rested (Numbers 27:18), Caleb followed God wholly with all his heart (Joshua 14:9), and David was known as a man after God’s own heart. (Acts 13:22; 1 Samuel 13:14)
Each of these faithful leaders understood the critical importance of entering God’s presence and drawing on His strength and power before stepping out to battle. They faced formidable adversities—enemies, even giants and armies—yet they were victorious.
So cultivate that type of intimacy in your daily walk with the Lord. Begin each day by entering into His presence through worship and prayer before you step out into the world. By doing this, when you go out, you go out with the confidence that the Lord “will cause your enemies who rise against you to be defeated before your face; they shall come out against you one way and flee before you seven ways.” (Deut 28:6-7)
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
In the Hebraic understanding, a name isn’t just a label—it reveals essence, identity, and destiny. Isaiah doesn’t say these are merely descriptions of the Messiah; he says His Name shall be called — meaning this is who He is. When we declare these names, we are not offering poetic praise — we are calling upon real attributes of the living King. In just one verse, the prophet unveils the depth of Messiah’s personhood, showing us that this child is no ordinary child. He is the fulfillment of heaven’s promise and the revelation of God’s nature.