All posts by warren

Apostolic Prophetic, Unity

When the Church Becomes One Again

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Beloved, hear now what the Spirit says to the Church.

You see the fractures. You feel the tension. A thousand traditions. A thousand pulpits. A thousand truths that claim His name—but where is the presence? Where is the trembling? Where is the fear of the Lord?

The Church is not whole. She is scattered. She is bruised and bloated with opinions. But God has not abandoned His Bride. No—He is preparing her.

“If My people who are called by My Name humble themselves and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”

—2 Chronicles 7:14 (NASB)

Everything begins in prayer.

She broke her jar—and with it, her pride, her plans, her past. Only in surrender can the fragrance rise. This is where healing begins.

Not corporate branding. Not reconciliation committees. Not theological agreements. Prayer. Holy, desperate, altar-soaking prayer. God waits—not for more polished sermons—but for brokenhearted intercessors who will lay between the porch and the altar and cry out for mercy.

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1. God Will Not Unite What He Has Not First Sanctified

The Lord is not interested in unifying the structures of man. He will not anoint mixture. He will not bless what bears His name but not His fire. Before the Church can be made whole again, she must be purified.

Idols must fall—whether they are carved in stone or forged in theology. Titles must be laid down. Prestige must be crushed. The fear of the Lord must return to His house.

“For it is time for judgment to begin with the household of God.”

—1 Peter 4:17 (NASB)

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2. Prayer Will Birth the Final Move

Before the healing comes, the jar must break. This is where revival begins—on our faces, with nothing held back.

The final outpouring will not begin with a microphone but a whisper. It will be born in midnight prayer meetings, living rooms soaked in tears, and hidden groanings of nameless saints. God will not share His glory with clever men.

When the Church returns to her knees, He will return in power.

“Before she was in labor, she gave birth; before her pain came, she delivered a male child.”

—Isaiah 66:7 (NASB)

You say, “Lord, how can the Church be made one again?”

He answers, “When My people pray.”

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3. The Spirit Will Burn Away the Lines of Division

Do not think He will repair denominations. No, He will consume them. What was built in pride will be humbled. What was built in fear will be shaken. What remains will be holy.

In that day, the true Church will not ask where you’re from—only, “Do you carry the fire?” The remnant will gather not by affiliation, but by anointing.

They will not argue about communion—they will break bread and weep in His presence.

They will not debate tongues—they will pray until the room shakes.

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4. The Glory Will Return to a United Bride

Fire on the Altar again

When the fire falls again, it will not fall on Catholic or Protestant. It will fall on those who waited. Those who repented. Those who stayed in the upper room when others went back to life as usual.

“And when the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place.”

—Acts 2:1 (NASB)

This is how the Church becomes one again—not by ecumenical agreement, but by spiritual alignment. Not around doctrine, but around the throne.

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5. The Cry of the Bride is Arising

The cry is not, “Make us successful,” but “Make us ready.”

Not, “Give us influence,” but “Give us oil.”

Not, “Grow our church,” but “Come, Lord Jesus.”

This is how the Church becomes whole again: by returning to the One who is whole.

Not by fixing ourselves, but by falling at His feet. Not by adjusting our theology, but by tearing our hearts.

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Your fire alone can cleanse and heal,
Your voice the wound and balm reveal.
Unite us not by creed or throne—
But make us Yours, and Yours alone.

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Closing Exhortation:

Beloved, fall to your knees. Let the traditions burn. Let the pride be broken. Let the Spirit come.

The unity of the Church will come only when the people of God pray like nothing else matters, repent like judgment has begun, and worship like the Bridegroom is at the door.

The call is not to build—

It is to kneel.

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See Also

Sufficiency of the Word

The Traditions of Men

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A Call to Return to the Truth

Brethren, I do not write to flatter, but to urge. I plead with you as one who has been shown mercy, who once trusted in the law and the ordinances of men, but was apprehended by the grace of God. I now write with boldness: beware the traditions of men.

For many walk no longer according to the Spirit, but according to patterns handed down without power. They uphold forms without fire. Statues without life. Commands without the Cross. They say, “This is how it has always been,” but they do not ask, “Is this of the Lord?”

1. The Word of God Is Sufficient

    Let every man be found a liar if he speaks contrary to the written Word of God. For Scripture was not given to be supplemented by inventions of the flesh, nor twisted by the wisdom of this age. The Holy Spirit bears witness to the truth. Paul wrote:

    “All Scripture is inspired by God and beneficial for teaching, for rebuke, for correction, for training in righteousness; so that the man or woman of God may be fully capable, equipped for every good work.”

    —2 Timothy 3:16–17 (NASB)

    If the Scriptures make a man fully capable, why do we reach for substitutes? Why do some add practices, rituals, or mediators that neither Jesus taught nor the apostles endorsed?

    2. When Tradition Becomes a Snare

      Traditions are not evil in themselves. I, too, upheld customs, celebrated feasts, and walked with zeal. But when tradition becomes a stumbling block to the gospel—when it burdens consciences, exalts men, or draws attention away from the finished work of Yeshua—it must be cast down.

      “See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deception, according to the tradition of men, according to the elementary principles of the world, rather than according to Christ.”

      —Colossians 2:8 (NASB)

      Do not be taken captive! What is handed down by men cannot save. What is proclaimed from heaven—Christ crucified, risen, and reigning—this is the power of God.

      3. One Mediator, One Lord

      Some have exalted figures, relics, and sacred objects. Others have crafted elaborate systems of prayer and penance. But I testify before God and His elect angels: there is only One who intercedes, only One who atoned for sin.

      “For there is one God, and one Mediator also between God and mankind, the man Christ Jesus, who gave Himself as a ransom for all.”

      —1 Timothy 2:5–6a (NASB)

      Every substitute is a shadow. Every tradition that bypasses the cross is a deception. We must not exchange the glory of the incorruptible God for images or patterns made by human hands.

      4. Test Every Tradition by the Gospel

      Do not be deceived by mere age. A tradition practiced for a thousand years is still false if it does not align with the Gospel. Test everything. Prove it by the Word. We do not preach ourselves, nor our customs—we preach Christ, and Him crucified.

      “But even if we, or an angel from heaven, should preach to you a gospel contrary to what we have preached to you, he is to be accursed!”

      —Galatians 1:8 (NASB)

      Beloved, hear this: you are not saved by tradition, but by grace through faith. You are not sanctified by routines, but by the Spirit. The truth sets you free—not repetition, symbols, or rituals.

      5. A Better Way: Return to the Simplicity of Christ

      As the serpent deceived Eve, I fear some have drifted from the simplicity and purity of devotion to the Messiah. Return to Him. Cast aside every weight, every shadow, every teaching that exalts man or diminishes the sufficiency of the cross.

      Let the fire of the Spirit cleanse your worship, the blood of the Lamb purify your conscience, and the truth of the Gospel restore what tradition has obscured.

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      No idol carved, no crafted rite,
      Shall match the cross or pierce the night.
      Tradition bows, the truth stands tall—
      The Word made flesh is Lord of all.

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      Closing Prayer

      Lord God, we renounce the empty ways passed down without Your Spirit. Expose every tradition that exalts itself above Your Word. Cleanse us from man-made religion and lead us back to the simplicity of Christ. Open our eyes to see, our hearts to repent, and our hands to cling to You alone. Let no ritual replace our reverence, no custom replace our communion, and no tradition replace Your truth. In the name of Yeshua our Messiah, Amen.

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      See Also

      Apostolic Prophetic

      Sound the Shofar

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      Beloved, listen.

      This is not just another message—this is a cry from the Spirit of the Living God. Open your heart. Don’t scroll past. Don’t silence the stirring. The time is too late and the hour too urgent. These words are not ink—they are fire. They are bread for the starving soul, water for the parched spirit. Eat. Listen. Engage. Heaven is calling, not with suggestion but with summons. The Lord is seeking those who will not harden their hearts but will tremble at His Word. Beloved, return. Return before the door shuts. Return before the harvest ends. Return while there is still breath in your lungs. This is for you. This is for now.

      Lay it down.

      All of it—the noise, the endless scrolling, the fear-soaked headlines, the idols of comfort and control. Lay down the false peace of passivity. Tear from your hands the chains of distraction. The world is loud, relentless, and poisoned with deception. But the voice of the Lord still thunders above it all. The Shepherd calls. The Spirit groans. And the Father waits.

      Sound the mighty spiritual shofar! Not the trumpets of man, not the hollow horns of politics or media spin—but the true shofar of Heaven, the sound that shakes foundations and splits the sky. And today, let everyone hear the call to sound the shofar. Let it echo across the nations, from mountain to valley, from city to wilderness. Let the angels ready their ranks. Let the demons flee in terror. Let it be declared boldly to every principality in the air:

      This world belongs to the Lord—and your time is short.

      The throne of God is not up for debate. It cannot be silenced or censored. His kingdom does not rise and fall with human empires. The earth is the Lord’s, and all it contains, the world, and those who dwell in it (Psalm 24:1, NASB). And yet, so many have forgotten. We have traded His glory for entertainment. His truth for tolerance. His presence for convenience. The enemy has numbed the Church, lulled her into slumber with comforts, busyness, and fear. But the alarm is sounding—and it’s time to wake up.

      You powers of the air—hear the sound!

      Yeshua reigns. His cross crushed your authority. His resurrection sealed your defeat. And His Spirit now lives in us, the blood-bought, fire-baptized, uncompromising remnant. We are not afraid. We are not backing down. The King is coming, and His Bride is rising.

      Today is the day.

      Not next week. Not when it’s convenient. Not when the calendar clears or the kids are older or the crisis passes. Now. If you hear His voice today, do not harden your heart. You know the tug in your spirit—that’s God. You feel the ache in your chest—that’s your soul remembering its true home. You feel the heat in your bones—that’s the fire He wants to fan into flame.

      The world is choosing. You must choose.

      Will you serve the gods of the age—convenience, self, popularity—or will you stand in the fire and declare, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Joshua 24:15, NASB)? The days of playing Church are over. We need consecrated hearts, holy lips, and knees that bend only to the King of Kings. We need altars, not stages. Repentance, not performance. Fire, not fog machines. Sound the shofar today to declare this transformation.

      The spiritual shofar is not just a call to arms—it’s a call to surrender. To throw down your idols and come trembling to the mercy seat. To rend your heart and cry, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10, NASB). You were not made for survival—you were made for glory. You were not saved to be silent—you were redeemed to roar.

      So rise up, Church. Sound the shofar. Fall on your face. Cry out for mercy. Let the tears fall. Let the fire come.

      Let your worship shake the heavens. Let your life echo with eternity.

      Yeshua reigns. The King is coming. And we belong to Him.

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      Prayer

      El Shaddai, sound the shofar of Heaven over our lives today. Tear through every layer of apathy and burn away what doesn’t belong. We lay down every idol, every distraction, every allegiance that isn’t to You. Let the kingdoms of this world tremble and the powers of darkness flee. Awaken Your Bride. Awaken me. Clothe us in righteousness, anoint us with boldness, and mark us with Your fire. We declare today: You reign, Yeshua. You alone.This is Your world. We are Your people. And this is the hour of Your glory.

      In Your holy, powerful name—Amen.

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      Our Response

      We respond by seeking…

      • Holiness instead of compromise
      • Truth instead of convenience
      • Prayer instead of performance
      • Repentance instead of reputation
      • Worship instead of worry
      • Consecration instead of comfort
      • Obedience instead of opinion
      • Scripture instead of screens
      • Revival instead of routine
      • The fear of the Lord instead of the approval of man
      • More of God instead of more of the world

      Let this be the cry of our hearts: “Lord, we seek You first.”

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      See Also

      Faith, Spiritual

      Through Heaven’s Eyes

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      The New Testament Unveiled​​​

      The Word that spoke galaxies into being conceals His infinite splendor in Mary’s womb. Time itself trembles as the Ancient of Days enters its stream. Angels lean over heaven’s ramparts to witness the unimaginable: the Creator becoming creation, the Author entering His own story.

      Watch as Jesus walks Galilee’s shores not merely as carpenter-prophet, but as the axis upon which all reality turns. When He speaks, creation’s original music echoes. When He touches lepers, Eden’s perfection flashes through corrupted flesh. Each miracle isn’t just compassion—it’s reality remembering what it was meant to be. This is all part of the New Testament unveiled through His life.

      The disciples follow Him unknowingly treading holy ground. Peter’s feet walk on water because he glimpses what we now see clearly: all creation submits to its true King. When Jesus rebukes wind and waves, He’s not displaying power—He’s revealing identity.

      At the cross, the cosmos holds its breath. This isn’t defeat but victory’s strange shape. The darkness at noon isn’t mere solar phenomenon—it’s creation mourning as the Light of the World dims. The torn veil isn’t just fabric ripping—it’s the barrier between heaven and earth dissolving forever. This moment is key in the story of the New Testament being unveiled to humanity.

      The resurrection explodes beyond empty tomb. It’s creation’s second birth, the new Adam breathing new life into fallen humanity. When Jesus appears to Mary, then to disciples, then to five hundred—He’s not proving He lives. He’s revealing what true humanity looks like.

      Pentecost: not just wind and fire, but heaven’s own life flooding human vessels. The Spirit doesn’t merely empower—He indwells, making mortal flesh a living temple. Every convert isn’t just choosing belief—they’re being grafted into divine life itself.

      Paul’s conversion on Damascus Road: scales fall from more than eyes. He sees what we see—that in Christ, all things hold together. His letters aren’t theology but love songs to unveiled truth.

      John’s Revelation: not future prediction but eternal reality breaking through. The Lamb upon the throne isn’t waiting to reign—He already reigns over all creation’s story. What appears as prophecy to human eyes is simply describing what always was and always will be.

      The New Jerusalem doesn’t descend someday—it exists eternally, and we’re called to live even now as its citizens. Every tear wiped away, every sorrow ended, every joy fulfilled—not future promise but present reality to those whose eyes have been opened. Truly, this is all revealed when the New Testament is unveiled.

      “Behold, I am making all things new”—not someday, but now, for those with eyes to see.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

      See Also

      Jesus

      He Came Back for Me

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      A First-Hand Story of Easter Morning

      (Inspired by Luke 24, and John 20–21)

      I couldn’t sleep—not really. I tried. The rooster’s cry still echoed in my soul. I sat alone in that upper room, heart heavy with shame, ears ringing with the sound of my own denial. I had sworn I would die with Him. Instead, I denied I even knew His name… three times.

      It was still dark when Mary burst through the door, breathless, eyes wide. “The tomb,” she gasped, “it’s… it’s empty!”

      We didn’t wait. John and I tore through the streets, sandals pounding the stone, the air cold and stinging against my face. My chest burned, but I kept running. I had to see for myself.

      He got there first. Of course, he did—he’s younger. But he stopped at the entrance. I couldn’t. I shoved past him, stumbled inside. The smell of burial spices still hung in the air. The linen wrappings lay there, folded. No body. No blood. Just silence and stone.

      Confusion gripped us. Wonder. Fear. Hope? I didn’t know what to believe. We went back… but Mary stayed.

      Later that day, two brothers told us they’d seen Him—alive—on the road to Emmaus. My heart leapt. Could it be? Could the nightmare really be over? Could grace reach even me?

      And then He came back for me.

      We were locked in, hiding, trembling… when suddenly, He stood there among us. No sound. No door. Just Jesus.

      He looked at me. Not past me. Not through me. At me. His eyes didn’t burn with anger—they burned with love.

      “Peace be to you,” He said. The same voice that calmed storms now calmed my soul. He showed us His hands, His side. We touched Him. We wept. We laughed. We fell to our knees.

      He was alive.

      And He came back for me.

      Days later, He met me on the shore. I’d gone fishing—I didn’t know what else to do. We caught nothing, like before. Then a voice called from the shore, “Cast your net on the right side.”

      It was Him.

      He already had breakfast cooking on the fire. The scent of grilled fish and warm bread filled the air, mingled with the sea breeze and my tears. We ate in silence.

      Then He asked me, “Simon, do you love Me?”

      Three times. One for every denial.

      I said yes.

      And each time, He answered, “Feed My sheep.”

      I thought it was over. I thought I was disqualified.

      But He called me still. He came back for me and asked for my love.

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      He’s alive, and I’m forgiven. Heaven’s gates are open wide.

      And now, every breath I take is for Him. Every word I speak bears His name. I was dead in my shame… but I’ve seen the Lord.

      He’s alive.

      And He came back for me.

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      See Also

      Jesus

      Awaken to Victory

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      First-Hand Encounters with the Risen Lord

      It was early morning, the air crisp and cool, the world still wrapped in the silent cloak of night just beginning to yield to dawn. Imagine yourself there, sandals crunching softly against gravel, heart heavy with grief and confusion. Your hands tremble slightly, carrying spices to anoint the body of the One you loved, the One you believed in. The fragrance of myrrh and aloe hangs thick, mingling with the fresh morning dew.

      You approach the tomb and suddenly freeze—the stone is rolled away, an open doorway into mystery. Your breath quickens, heart pounding louder in your ears as you step closer, each step an echo of hope battling fear. And then you see him—an angel, radiant like lightning, garments blazing white as snow, seated confidently upon the stone.

      His voice thunders gently, resonating deep within your chest: “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus who has been crucified. He is not here, for He has risen, just as He said.” (Matthew 28:5-6, NASB). Your heart leaps, joy surging through every fiber of your being, eyes wide as you rush to peer inside. The tomb is empty, grave clothes neatly folded—a silent, triumphant testimony that death has lost its grip. Encounter the Risen Christ.

      Now, imagine yourself later that very day, walking along a dusty road, talking quietly with another disciple about all that has happened. Your steps slow, hearts heavy, minds wrestling with questions. Suddenly, a stranger joins you, His presence comforting yet mysterious. His voice calm, familiar in a way you can’t explain. He begins to open the Scriptures, explaining clearly why the Messiah had to suffer and rise from the dead.

      As you walk, your heart begins to burn within you—His words igniting a fire of understanding, revelation dawning brighter than the midday sun. And then, at the breaking of bread, your eyes are opened, and you see clearly—it is Jesus Himself, risen, alive, and walking beside you! (Luke 24:13-32, NASB).

      Now, dear friend, imagine stepping from those miraculous moments into your everyday life. Today, you are called personally—called to Christ, called to the reality of the empty tomb and the living Savior who walks alongside you. Just as the disciples encountered overwhelming victory that morning and afternoon, you are invited to step fully into the miraculous power of Christ’s resurrection and encounter the Risen Christ.

      Beloved, hear this clearly: The tomb was not just empty then—it remains empty today! “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55, NASB). Christ has forever shattered the chains of death and sin, inviting you to live freely in the victory He secured. When you encounter the Risen Christ, everything changes.

      This Easter morning, respond wholeheartedly to this call of faith. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17, NASB). Rise, leave behind doubt, cast away fear, and embrace the life-giving power of resurrection that transforms every believer. Allow yourself to encounter the Risen Christ in every aspect of your life.

      Today is the day to declare boldly: you stand victorious in Christ! Walk with the confidence of those who know their Savior lives, that death is defeated, and that the victory is eternally yours through Jesus. As Scripture proclaims, “But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Corinthians 15:57, NASB).

      Declare it aloud! Proclaim it from rooftops! Christ is risen indeed! Encounter the Risen Christ and live transformed.

      Prayer

      Lord Jesus, we stand amazed at the empty tomb and Your risen presence. Fill our hearts with the excitement and boldness of those first disciples. May the power of Your resurrection shape our lives profoundly, empowering us to proclaim Your victory boldly to all around us. Amen.

      See Also

      Silence

      The Silence Before Joy

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      Weeping may endure for a night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning.
      — Psalm 30:5b (NASB)

      Joy comes in the morning. This is not a poetic phrase for difficult days—it is a declaration carved into the heart of every believer. This Saturday, the world waits in silence. The cross has done its work, and the tomb is sealed. The disciples are scattered, their dreams crushed beneath the weight of grief. But heaven is not anxious. God is not finished. And even in the shadows of uncertainty, He is still working.

      This is the holy hush before the victory shout.

      The Saturday before Easter is a mystery. Scripture is nearly silent about it, just as the tomb was silent. But the silence does not mean nothing was happening. On the contrary, behind that heavy stone, life was preparing to break forth. Yeshua, having cried out “It is finished,” had descended to the lower parts of the earth, proclaiming His triumph. “When He had disarmed the rulers and authorities, He made a public display of them, having triumphed over them through Him” (Colossians 2:15, NASB). In this silence, we know joy comes in the morning.

      Let this be your confidence today: what looks like the end is often just a hidden beginning. What appears buried is not lost—it is planted. Yeshua told us, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24, NASB). The Son of God was not defeated. He was planted in faith. And with Him, every promise of God was placed in the ground to rise again in power.

      We, like the first disciples, often live through Saturdays—those in-between spaces where hope feels fragile, and answers are hidden. But the Spirit speaks still: joy comes in the morning. The Word of God is living and active. It does not end in a sealed tomb. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me” (Psalm 23:4, NASB). God is present in the waiting. He is forming resurrection where we see ruin.

      And just as Yeshua rose on the third day, so shall He raise up every weary heart who clings to Him in faith. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18, NASB). Do not let your soul be discouraged today. Press into the promise. Our Redeemer lives. “Let us hold firmly to the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful” (Hebrews 10:23, NASB).

      This day may be quiet, but it is not hopeless. Joy comes in the morning. Not the fleeting happiness of men, but the eternal joy of God’s resurrection power. A joy that no man can steal, no tomb can trap, no devil can stop.

      So, beloved of God, wait with purpose. Hold fast to hope. Your King is not in the grave—He is about to rise.

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      Though night may cloak the promised light,
      And grief may steal the song from sight,
      Still will I trust the break of day,
      For joy shall rise and chase dismay.

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      Prayer:

      Abba Father, we stand in the stillness of this holy day with hearts that choose hope. Though we do not yet see the dawn, we believe Your Word. You are the God who raises the dead, who speaks life into what was lifeless, and joy into what was broken. As we wait between Friday and Sunday, fix our eyes on Yeshua, the Author and Perfecter of our faith. Let resurrection hope rise in us even now. Teach us to trust in Your silence and believe in Your goodness. Let every buried dream come alive again, for joy comes in the morning. In Yeshua’s mighty name, Amen.

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      See Also

      Devotion to God, Faith

      Before the Rooster Crows

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      A Devotion for Good Friday Morning

      To all the beloved of God, called to be saints, grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Yeshua the Messiah. I write not to stir emotion, but to awaken your spirit. This day—this sacred Friday—is not to be passed over lightly. For today we remember the sufferings of our Lord, not as mere observers, but as those who have been crucified with Him. Let every breath of this day be holy, and every moment a meditation on His love.

      Before the rooster crowed, He was already despised.

      The night had swallowed the Son of Man, but He did not resist. Betrayed by a kiss, arrested like a criminal, and abandoned by those He called friends, Yeshua was led away to stand before corrupt men. False witnesses surrounded Him like jackals. He was struck in the face, spat upon, and mocked. Yet the Word says, “He did not revile in return” (1 Peter 2:23, NASB). He endured it with divine restraint—for our sake.

      And Peter—our brother in weakness—denied Him. Three times, and the rooster crowed. But Yeshua’s eyes found him through the dark. Even in betrayal, there was compassion.

      By morning, He was judged by men, but already condemned by sin.

      The council convened at dawn. Their hearts were hardened. “Are You the Son of God?” they demanded. “You say that I am,” He replied (Luke 22:70, NASB). For this they sent Him to Pilate, though the governor found no fault in Him. Pilate, desiring to escape the weight of truth, passed Him to Herod, who clothed Him in scorn and returned Him.

      Barabbas was chosen. The guilty set free, the Innocent condemned. Yet we know this mystery: it pleased the Father to crush Him (Isaiah 53:10, NASB), for in His wounds we are made whole.

      By the third hour (9:00 AM), He was lifted up between two criminals.

      The Cross

      They scourged Him until His flesh hung like ribbons. They crowned Him with thorns, clothed Him in mockery, and bowed in cruel jest. And then they led Him out to Golgotha, the Place of the Skull. Simon of Cyrene was pressed into service, but the weight of the cross was always His.

      At the hill, they drove the nails. O saints, do not become numb to this: the hands that healed the sick were pierced. The feet that walked upon water were fastened with iron to wood. He was numbered with the transgressors—one on His right, one on His left.

      And what did He cry out? “Father, forgive them…” (Luke 23:34, NASB). While bleeding, He interceded. While mocked, He offered mercy. He bore not only pain, but the full curse of sin.

      From the sixth hour to the ninth (12:00–3:00 PM), darkness covered the land.

      It was as if creation itself could no longer behold the agony of its Creator. The sun hid its face, and the earth trembled under the weight of divine judgment. For three hours, He hung—suffocating, bleeding, rejected.

      And at the ninth hour, He cried aloud, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Mark 15:34, NASB). This was no cry of doubt, but the fulfillment of Psalm 22. The sin of the world was upon Him, and the Father, in holy justice, turned His face away.

      He who knew no sin became sin, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him (2 Corinthians 5:21, NASB).

      And then, He gave up His spirit.

      He was not murdered; He surrendered. With one final cry—“It is finished!”—He bowed His head and breathed His last (John 19:30). The veil in the temple tore from top to bottom. Heaven declared: the way to God has been opened.

      The earth quaked. Tombs broke open. Even the centurion confessed, “Truly this was the Son of God” (Matthew 27:54, NASB).

      And you, O beloved—will you not confess the same?

      This is your devotion for Good Friday morning.

      Not merely to feel sorrow, but to share in His death. “I have been crucified with Christ,” Paul declares, “and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20, NASB). This day demands more than remembrance—it calls for surrender.

      Today, let your heart be pierced anew. Let the world lose its grip on you. Let every convenience and comfort fall away before the cross. For He did not spare Himself. And now, He calls you to take up your cross and follow.

      ⸻

      The sky grew still, the sun withdrew,
      The earth in silence mourned;
      The Lamb of God, so pure, so true,
      By cruel nails was torn.
      Yet in that death, a mercy flowed—
      A crimson, cleansing stream;
      His final breath the veil unsewed,
      And woke me from my dream.

      ⸻

      Prayer

      Lord Yeshua, I behold You this morning—not from a distance, but from the foot of the cross.

      You died for me while I was still a sinner. You held nothing back.

      Let me hold nothing back in return.

      Teach me to die to myself, that I may live unto You.

      Let the weight of Your sacrifice never grow light in my memory.

      And let this day be holy to me, as it is holy to You.

      You are worthy, O Lamb of God—worthy of my love, my life, and my all.

      Amen.

      ⸻

      See Also

      Renewal

      The Vow Remembered

      Returning to the God Who Called You

      Beloved, stop for a moment and breathe. Not the shallow breath of busyness or burden, but a deep soul-breath that whispers, “God is near.” This day—this Holy Thursday—is more than remembrance. It is a summons. A sacred trumpet blast echoing from the Upper Room through the centuries, calling you to renew your vow to God.

      Do you remember the moment you first said yes to Him? It was the start of renewing your vow to God.

      The moment you felt His love break through your shame, when you wept, when your knees buckled beneath the weight of mercy, when you swore—“Wherever You lead, I will go”? That vow was not just emotion. It was covenant. Heaven recorded it. Angels rejoiced. God smiled.

      But what has become of it?

      Perhaps you still go to church. Perhaps your Bible still lies open in the morning light. But has your heart grown cold beneath the surface? Has routine dulled the flame? Has the voice of the world crept into your spirit, quieting the voice of the Lord?

      This day is not for condemnation, but for consecration. Return to your first love. The table is still set. The towel is still in His hands. And His eyes still burn with the same fire that called Peter from the nets and Mary from the crowd. He is calling you—yes, you—to renew your vow to God.

      The apostle Paul did not run half a race. He did not make half a vow. He said, “I die daily” (1 Corinthians 15:31, NASB). Why? Because the path of following Yeshua requires daily surrender, daily submission, and daily intimacy. Paul also declared, “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20, NASB). Have you made peace with the crucified life? Perhaps it is time to renew your vow to God.

      You see, the vow you made wasn’t just to believe. It was to belong. To belong wholly to Him. To hold nothing back. To follow Him into gardens of sorrow and mountains of transfiguration, to feast and to fast, to rejoice and to suffer, all for the joy set before you—Him.

      So today, renew it. Not with shallow words or emotional fluff, but with trembling awe. Say it again:

      “I am Yours. All I have is Yours. All I hope to be is Yours.” Take this chance to renew your vow to God.

      Let your soul say, “I will follow even if no one else does. I will walk with You even when I do not understand. I will obey even when it hurts.” These are the vows of a disciple. These are the vows of the Bride.

      Beloved, this night we remember how Yeshua took bread and broke it. He lifted the cup and said, “This is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for forgiveness of sins” (Matthew 26:28, NASB). And in doing so, He invited us not to comfort, but to covenant. Not to casual belief, but to costly love. With this, He calls us to renew our vows to God.

      Will you make that vow again?

      Will you weep where you once wept? Will you serve where you once served? Will you repent where you once repented? Will you renew your vow to God?

      Let the altar of your heart be rebuilt. Let the fire of first love be reignited. Let your knees find the floor once again. He is worthy. He who washed feet still washes hearts. He who poured out blood still pours out grace. He who died for you still lives to walk with you.

      This Holy Thursday is your moment to step back into the flame. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Now.

      Prayer

      O Lord my God, I return to You with my whole heart. I renew the vow I once made and confess that I have strayed in ways I did not even see. Forgive my apathy. Forgive my pride. Forgive my self-reliance. I give You my allegiance again—not with mere words, but with my life. Help me to run this race with perseverance. Help me to die daily that You might live through me. Wash me again, renew me again, and anoint me to walk in Your will. I vow this day to follow You, no matter the cost, for You alone are worthy. In the name of Yeshua, my Savior and King. Amen.

      See Also

      Worship

      A Fragrance of Worship

      O beloved,

      I write to you not with ink alone, but with the weight of the Spirit pressing upon my heart. On this holy Wednesday—this silent eve before the uproar—let us consider a mystery too profound for the natural mind and too precious for the casual glance. Let us look again into that dimly lit room where oil lamps flickered, shadows whispered, and the eternal collided with the earthly through a woman’s hands and a broken jar.

      Then came the hush.

      I was taken there in the spirit, to a house not large but holy. A woman entered—her face lined with sorrow, yet shining with a light not hers. She bore an alabaster jar, sealed with the cost of years. And when she broke it—O saints!—Heaven leaned in. This was not extravagance; it was revelation. This was not waste; it was worship.

      A fragrance of worship filled the house, and angels wept. For the aroma rising was not just perfume, but prophecy. It spoke of death and resurrection, of preparation and promise. The oil did not anoint a man merely for burial—it anointed a King for glory. I saw in the spirit: thorns dissolving into gold, blood into righteousness, sorrow into joy. That room became a throne room, and Yeshua—our Messiah—was crowned in the eyes of Heaven before He ever ascended the Hill. Truly, it was a fragrance of worship.

      Beloved, do you see it? The world calls it foolishness, but the Spirit calls it power. That which she poured out in a moment was seen and remembered by the Eternal. Her worship was a holy defiance against despair. Where the enemy plotted destruction, she declared destiny.

      Yet, not all who watched saw the glory.

      Behind the fragrance lurked a foul spirit. A man named Judas—once counted among the disciples—stood cloaked in silence, his heart coiled by the serpent. I saw the whisper in his ear, the scales of offense hardening around his soul. His mind reasoned where worship surrendered. His hands reached for silver when they could have grasped grace. Thirty pieces of silver—the price of betrayal—fell to the earth like a curse, echoing through the courts of Heaven.

      But Yeshua—O bless His Name—lifted His eyes. And though He knew what Judas would do, His eyes were pools of mercy. He saw the betrayal and still chose the cross. He felt the sting of coming abandonment and still gave His body. He beheld the serpent and still crushed its head.

      And still, He loved.

      So I charge you, brethren and sisters, to let your worship not be contingent on comfort. Pour your heart before the Lord, not with calculation but with consecration. Break your jar before Him. Let the fragrance of your sacrifice rise into the heavens until angels take notice. Let your love speak louder than logic and your surrender ring louder than silver. After all, it is a fragrance of worship that truly honors Him.

      We do not worship Him because it is safe.

      We worship because He is worthy.

      And you—yes, you—are invited into the same offering. The world may scoff, and Judas may still linger in the corner, but the fragrance of true worship will never be wasted. It will fill the room. It will shake the heavens. It will prepare the way for the Lamb. And every act of worship we offer creates a new fragrance of worship that pleases the Lord.

      Now unto Him who sees every tear and every jar broken in His name,

      To Yeshua, the King of Mercy,

      Be all the glory, honor, and power—forever and ever. Amen.

      ⸻

      Prayer

      Abba Father,

      Strengthen us in the inner man to pour out our hearts as fragrant offerings before You. May we not hold back out of fear or offense. Let our lives be a holy preparation for Your return. Burn away every Judas-spirit of calculation within us and replace it with the fire of first love. Help us to see Your eyes of mercy, even when the betrayal surrounds us. Crown us with worship. Flood us with Your presence. Let us break our alabaster before You, knowing it is never wasted. In Yeshua’s mighty name, amen.

      ⸻

      I broke my jar before the King,
      While angels watched and hearts took wing.
      Though serpents hissed and silver fell,
      Your mercy rose, Emmanuel.

      ⸻

      Seel Also