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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In a world wearied by the failures of men, Isaiah 9:6 offers a startling promise of hope and strength: “The government shall be upon His shoulder.” This is not the language of politics as we know it — it’s the language of divine dominion. The Hebrew word for “government” here is misrah (מִשְׂרָה), a word so unique it appears only in these two verses—Isaiah 9:6 and 9:7. Unlike more common Hebrew words for government — mamlachah or memshalah, misrah speaks of a rare and elevated rule—divinely ordained, gentle in character, and eternal in scope. This is a government not imposed, but carried. Not tyrannical, but righteous and restorative.
The prophet Isaiah begins with language so familiar that it’s often read too quickly. Yet within this brief phrase lies a depth of mystery and majesty that anchors the entire gospel. “For unto us a Child is born” speaks of an earthly event–Messiah’s humanity. He was born as all men are born, taking on flesh, entering a specific culture, time, and lineage. The Hebrew word for “born” (yalad) reinforces His full identification with us. This is the miracle of the incarnation: God wrapped in the vulnerability of a newborn child.
When the Lord called us to be His ambassadors, He didn’t merely give us a message — He gave us a lifestyle to embody it. An ambassador is not just a messenger, but a living representation of the Kingdom they serve. That means our behavior, words, and example all matter deeply.
As ambassadors of Christ, we don’t just represent His Kingdom–we reflect His heart. Paul’s words in Colossians 4:5-6 are not just good advice; they’re a commissioning. We are called to walk wisely among those who do not yet know Christ, recognizing that every interaction is a divine opportunity.
“All this is from God…” These words usher us into the breathtaking reality that salvation is not born of human effort, wisdom, or willpower — it is entirely the work of God. From beginning to end, it is His plan, His initiative, His unrelenting grace. Through Yeshua (Jesus), God stepped into our brokenness and reconciled us to Himself, repairing the relationship that sin had shattered. Reconciliation is not merely a theological concept — it is the restoration of intimacy with the Father. We did not ascend to Him in holiness; He descended to us in mercy. The Creator did not wait for us to find our way back. No, He came down in Yeshua, arms stretched wide in love, calling us home.
In the age of social media, where hot takes go viral, outrage spreads in seconds, and comment sections become battlegrounds, James offers a divine pattern that stands in stark contrast to the digital frenzy. His instruction is timeless but urgently needed today: be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger. These three commands — revolutionary yet straightforward — cut through the noise of our reaction-driven culture and call us to a Spirit-led posture in a screen-lit world.
In Matthew 21, Yeshua (Jesus) approached a fig tree full of leaves but found no fruit. He cursed it, and it withered. This dramatic act was not about the tree—it was about Israel. The fig tree had the appearance of life, but it lacked the substance of transformation. It was a warning to a nation full of religion but void of repentance. The tree became a symbol of spiritual barrenness, of form without fruit.