Psalms 118:24-26 This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. 25 Save us, we pray, O LORD! O LORD, we pray, give us success! 26 Blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD! We bless you from the house of the LORD.
Matthew 23:37-39 “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! 38 See, your house is left to you desolate. 39 For I tell you, you will not see me again, until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.’”
Psalm 118:24 is not merely about enjoying a new day — it is a prophetic declaration of a divinely appointed moment. “This is the day the LORD has made” speaks of a kairos moment in history when heaven and earth converge. It points to the day when Messiah would be revealed, salvation would walk into Jerusalem, and God’s covenant plan would take a dramatic step forward. This is not the casual celebration of a sunrise — it is the joyful response to God’s redemptive unfolding.
Verse 25, “Save us, we pray, O LORD!” — Hoshiana na! — is the cry that echoed through the streets of Jerusalem as Yeshua (Jesus) rode in on a donkey. The people cried out for deliverance, quoting this very verse, though many did not realize that salvation had already come to them in the flesh. That same cry is lifted every year on Hoshana Rabbah, the final day of Sukkot, when worshipers encircle the altar pleading for salvation, rain, and revival. It is followed by Simchat Torah, the rejoicing in the Word of God — a celebration Yeshua embodied as the Word made flesh.
Tragically and prophetically, on October 7, 2023, as Jews around the world danced with the Torah scroll on Simchat Torah, Israel was struck by war. And before the IDF entered Gaza, soldiers were praying Psalm 118:25: “Hoshiana na — Save us, we pray, O LORD! Grant us success!” The cry of the ancient psalm became a modern wartime prayer. It was not staged — it was spiritual. The plea of the people of Israel in their hour of need echoed the same cry once shouted before Yeshua in Jerusalem.
But the story is not over. Yeshua’s words in Matthew 23:37–39 reveal a prophecy yet to be fulfilled. After weeping over Jerusalem’s rejection of Him, He declared: “You shall not see Me again until you say, ‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!’” That’s Psalm 118:26 — the very next verse. The world has heard Israel cry out verse 25. Now, all creation groans, waiting for her to declare verse 26 — the key that unlocks His second coming. When Israel cries out in recognition of Yeshua as the One sent by the Father, heaven will respond, and the King will come.
We are standing between verses — between the cry of “Save us, O LORD” and the declaration “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!” The first has already been spoken. The second is coming — and it will shake the heavens. This is not a time for passive faith. This is the day the LORD has made — not just for rejoicing, but for revelation. The gates are open. The cries are rising. The King is near. Join the cry. Prepare the way. And pray with urgency that Israel will finish the song she began. When she sings verse 26, the sky will split, and Yeshua will come — not as the rejected cornerstone, but as the crowned King. Maranatha!
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When the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years, they traversed a rugged, unpredictable landscape — mile after mile of mountains, valleys, rocks, and desert sands — as they journeyed from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land.
For many, God remains a theory—an idea borrowed from tradition, deduced from the cosmos, or tucked quietly into the corners of a creed. He is believed in from afar, but is rarely encountered. Even among believers, it’s not uncommon to live with a distant reverence for God while lacking a vibrant, personal communion with Him.
God has always longed for intimacy with us. He formed us for Himself–to walk with Him, to know Him, to delight in His Presence. This is the very heartbeat of creation: relationship, not religion. Yet sin drove a wedge between us. A veil was drawn, shutting out the light of His face and placing distance where there was once communion.
A beachhead is the first critical objective in a military invasion–the spot where a force lands on enemy territory and secures a position for greater advancement. It’s the place of breakthrough. And it’s also the place of fiercest resistance.
David wrote Psalm 3 while running for his life — betrayed, heartbroken, and hunted by his own son, Absalom. The weight of rebellion wasn’t just political; it was personal. His household had turned against him. Friends became foes. Loyal hearts grew cold. The throne he once held was now surrounded by enemies, and the whispers grew louder: “There is no salvation for him in God.”
Psalm 2 is a divine announcement — a heavenly decree that demands the world’s attention. It begins with a question: “Why do the nations rage, and the peoples plot in vain?” (Ps. 2:1). The nations rise up, not against injustice or tyranny, but against the rule of God’s Meshiach (Messiah). That Anointed is Yeshua — the Son whom the Father has set on His holy hill in Zion (Ps. 2:6). The psalm strips away all pretense and exposes the heart of human rebellion: it is a refusal to be ruled by His Messiah.
Psalm 1 opens with a sobering warning about the quiet, deadly slide into sin. The man without God doesn’t become a scorner overnight — he drifts there gradually. First, he walks in ungodly counsel, entertaining worldly thoughts. Then, he stands in the path of sinners, embracing their way of life. Finally, he sits in the seat of the scornful, hardened in heart and mocking what is sacred. This progression — from a man without God to scorner — reveals how small compromises grow into full rebellion, dulling the conscience and deadening the soul.