All posts by warren

Warren Lavallee is a follower of Yeshua with a passion for seeing the Body of Christ united in Spirit and truth. As the author behind 133.church, Warren writes to call believers into deeper fellowship with God and with one another, inspired by the heartbeat of Psalm 133. His writings are marked by a love for Scripture, a pursuit of holiness, and a longing for revival rooted in prayer and intimacy with the Lord. Warren believes that true unity comes when we seek the face of God together, laying aside every division for the sake of Christ. Through every essay, devotion, and prayer, he invites readers to pursue more of God and to live fully surrendered to His purposes. When Warren is not writing, you’ll find him engaged in prayer gatherings, speaking life into churches, and encouraging believers to walk faithfully with God. His greatest desire is to see the Church become one again — a living testimony of God’s glory in the earth.
Peace

The Gospel of Peace and the Power of Pursuit

In a world ruled by domination, where kingdoms are claimed by violence and the strong prevail, Yeshua introduced a kingdom unlike any other—a kingdom that spreads not by swords, but by surrender. While the world trusts in force, the Gospel of peace calls us into a kingdom where the power flows from humility, not hostility.

Yet this peace is not passive. It is fiercely pursued, not flippantly received.

The King is Here
The King is Here

📜 The World’s Way: Force and Control

From the moment sin entered the world, human history has been marked by the pursuit of control. Nations have risen not through righteousness, but through conquest. Cain built a city; Nimrod built an empire; Pharaoh built a slave state.The kingdoms of men are almost always established by dominance—by outwitting, outlasting, or overpowering others. This is the language the world understands: strength wins, weakness loses.

A Roman soldier enforces imperial rule as a weary Jewish crowd looks on, longing for the promised Messiah—expecting a conqueror, yet unaware that peace was coming on a donkey.

In the time of Yeshua, this pattern was fully alive. The Roman Empire ruled by intimidation and military force, crushing dissent and exalting Caesar as lord. The sword defined justice, and peace came at the edge of a spear. Beneath that brutal regime, the Jewish people—oppressed, taxed, and scattered—longed for deliverance. Their prophets had spoken of a coming Messiah, a King from David’s line, and they naturally envisioned a political liberator, one who would overthrow Rome and restore national sovereignty.

They wanted someone like David—a warrior who would slay Goliath and drive out the enemies of God. They looked for one who would rally an army, march on Jerusalem, cleanse the temple, and set up a throne of earthly justice. Their hope was sincere—but their expectation was misaligned with Heaven.

Then came Yeshua.

No sword. No war horse. No army.

“Behold, your King is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey.” —Matthew 21:5 (NASB)

He entered not as a conqueror, but as a servant. He did not challenge Caesar with steel, but disarmed principalities through the cross. His enemies expected a revolution by force. Instead, they saw a Redeemer by grace. And because He did not match their vision of power, many missed Him entirely.

The world has always worshiped power—but God reveals His glory through weakness, His victory through surrender, and His kingdom through peace.

An exhausted Moses, Aaron and Hur in Prayer
An exhausted Moses, Aaron and Hur in Prayer

🕊️ The Gospel of Peace

The Gospel is called the “Gospel of Peace” for a reason. It is not only the message of reconciliation between man and God—it is the method by which the Kingdom advances. The peace of God is not weakness. It is power on a completely different plane.

Paul writes,

“Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” —Romans 5:1 (NASB)

This peace isn’t circumstantial. It is not the fragile quiet that comes from avoiding conflict. It is the deep restoration of fellowship between the Creator and His creation. It silences condemnation. It heals the wounds of sin. It brings wholeness where there was division. The Hebrew concept is shalom—a peace that makes complete.

When Paul describes the armor of God in Ephesians 6, he says:

“…and having strapped on your feet the preparation of the gospel of peace…” —Ephesians 6:15 (NASB)

This detail matters. The Roman soldier’s sandals were studded for grip in battle. In the same way, the Gospel of peace gives believers sure footing in a world that is hostile to holiness. We do not advance the Kingdom by force—but we do stand firm, and we move forward, led by the message of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:18–20).

The early church modeled this. They didn’t fight Rome—they outlived it. They didn’t rebel with arms—they radiated Christ. They overcame not by domination but by devotion, enduring ridicule, prison, and martyrdom with a joy rooted in peace the world could not touch.

Even Jesus, who could have called legions of angels (Matthew 26:53), chose instead to be the Lamb who was slain. His greatest victory came not from resisting the cross, but embracing it.

This is the strange paradox of the Gospel:
The more the world pressed against the Church, the stronger she stood.The more they took from her, the more she gave.
The more they reviled her, the more she loved.
Why? Because she carried the Gospel of peace.

Made meek by the spirit
A weathered wooden cross stands silhouetted against a glowing sunset, marking the place where pride ends and surrender begins.

⚔️ Misunderstood Force: “The Kingdom Suffers Violence”

Some stumble over Jesus’ words:

“From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and violent men take it by force.”
— Matthew 11:12 NASB

At first glance, this seems to contradict the peaceful nature of the Gospel. But this passage is not a call to arms—it is a call to urgency. The word translated “violent” can also imply fervent, forceful, resolute. Yeshua is describing those who are spiritually desperate, those who will not be satisfied with anything less than the fullness of God’s reign.

It is echoed in Luke 16:16:

“The gospel of the kingdom of God has been preached, and everyone is forcing his way into it.” —NASB

This isn’t about human violence—it’s about spiritual pursuit. Think of the woman with the issue of blood, who pressed through the crowd to touch Jesus’ garment (Mark 5:27–28). Think of Bartimaeus, who cried out all the more when the crowd tried to silence him (Mark 10:48). Think of the paralytic’s friends who tore open a roof to lower him before Jesus (Mark 2:4).

They were forceful—but not with weapons. They were desperate for the King, and they refused to be denied.

🔄 Peace and Force in Contrast

Here is a simple table to illustrate the difference:

The Way of Force (World)The Way of Peace (Gospel)
Wins by dominationTriumphs through surrender
Exalts strengthGlorifies meekness
Rules by fearLeads through love
Guards territoryInvites transformation
Uses compulsionMoves by conviction
Trusts in the swordTrusts in the Spirit
Interpretation of Tongues
A congregation in worship, hands raised in prayer, seeking the presence and voice of God in unity and reverence.

✝️ The Gospel in Action

The early church did not conquer the world by force, numbers, or strategy—they triumphed by carrying the presence of Yeshua, the Prince of Peace. In a hostile world, their strength was not political influence or cultural sway, but the indwelling Spirit of God, alive and active within them. They were living temples—walking vessels of peace, power, and purpose.

When threatened by authorities, Peter and John did not retreat or retaliate. They declared with holy defiance, “We cannot stop speaking about what we have seen and heard.” (Acts 4:20, NASB). Their boldness came not from bravado, but from having been with Jesus (Acts 4:13). When Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, was dragged outside the city and stoned to death, he looked to Heaven and cried out, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them!” (Acts 7:60, NASB). Even as the stones struck his body, peace reigned in his spirit.

Paul and Silas, unjustly beaten and locked in the depths of a Philippian prison, did not curse the darkness—they sang hymns at midnight (Acts 16:25). Bound in chains, they released the fragrance of Heaven. The peace of God guarded their hearts, and the power of their praise shook the prison foundations.

The Gospel of peace is not the absence of conflict—it is the manifest presence of Christ in the center of it. It is light that shines in darkness and cannot be overcome. It is the Spirit within us that makes us more than conquerors—not by removing trials, but by sustaining us through them.

“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” —Romans 12:21 (NASB)

This is the power of a surrendered life. This is the victory of peace over force. This is the Gospel in action.

🧎 A Call to the Church

Beloved, the temptation is strong to take up the tools of the world to fight the battles of the Kingdom. But we must not trade the power of the cross for the illusion of control. We do not need louder voices—we need purer hearts. We do not need sharper swords—we need deeper wells.

Let us be a people who carry the Gospel of peace with fire in our bones. Let us be forceful in faith, fervent in prayer, and peaceful in our witness.

The world does not need a church that imitates its aggression. It needs a church that reveals its Savior.

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The warrior rides with sword in hand,
But You, O Lord, with nail-pierced palm.
Your voice is peace across the land—
A King who conquers hearts with calm.

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See Also

Holy Spirit

Hold Fast to the Lord

Walking in Spirit-Revealed Obedience

“It is the LORD your God you must follow, and Him you must revere. Keep His commands and obey Him; serve Him and hold fast to Him.”
—Deuteronomy 13:4 (NASB)*

Beloved, we who have tasted the goodness of the Lord are not called to casual devotion, but to Spirit-revealed obedience. When El Shaddai breathes life into our dead spirits and awakens us by regeneration, He begins a holy preparation that lasts a lifetime. This journey is not fueled by fear but by reverent love—a response to the One who made us new.

Yeshua told Nicodemus that no one could enter the Kingdom unless they were born from above. And once born of the Spirit, we must no longer walk according to the flesh. The call is clear: Follow the LORD, revere Him, obey Him, serve Him, and hold fast to Him. Each phrase in Deuteronomy 13:4 is a step along the ancient path. But this path is hidden from the proud and self-sufficient. It is only visible to those whose eyes have been opened by the Spirit of God.

“To this John replied, ‘A person can receive only what is given them from heaven.’”
—John 3:27 (NASB)*

This is the humility that opens the door to divine encounter. John the Baptist, the forerunner of Messiah, knew his place. He did not grasp at position or power. He received what was given. So must we. The mysteries of God are not unlocked by cleverness or seminary degrees but by Spirit-revealed insight. Many stand before a wall of theology—doctrine stacked high like bricks—yet never find the gate. Without the Spirit, knowledge becomes cold and heavy. With the Spirit, truth becomes living fire.

Return to the Lord in brokenness
Return to the Lord in brokenness

God’s Kingdom is not a showcase of mediocrity, nor a democracy of lukewarm hearts. It is a throne room filled with glory, where only the holy dare tread. And we are made holy—not by our effort—but by the blood of the Lamb and the fire of His Spirit. This is why we must hold fast. Not to our plans. Not to tradition. Not to mere form. But to God Himself. His commands are not burdensome when His Spirit writes them on our hearts. His service becomes our joy when love compels us.

Why, then, would we resist such a path? Why would we lower the high call of God to fit our comfort? God’s intentions for us are always rooted in His eternal love and creative power. He sees potential in us that sin buried. But the Spirit awakens it. We were not made for the shallow waters of religion. We were made to walk in the deep, where God speaks, moves, and dwells with His people.

“Things which eye has not seen and ear has not heard,
And which have not entered the human heart,
All that God has prepared for those who love Him.”
—1 Corinthians 2:9 (NASB)

This is our inheritance: Spirit-revealed truth, Spirit-empowered obedience, Spirit-filled life. Let us not settle for surface knowledge. Let us seek the fire that reveals the face of Yeshua. Let us cling to the LORD—not casually, but with the grip of holy desperation. Hold fast. Follow. Revere. Obey. Serve.

The Spirit is still speaking. Will you listen?

“He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.”
— Revelation 2:7, 2:11, 2:17, 2:29, 3:6, 3:13, and 3:22 (NASB)

Prayer

Loving Lord, thank You for making me new by the power of Your Spirit. Awaken every buried promise and every slumbering gift within me. I want to walk in Spirit-revealed obedience. I long to know You not only in mind but in truth. Keep me close, Lord. Let me not wander or grow numb. Instead, draw me deeper, that I may hold fast to You in every season. In the name of Yeshua, I pray. Amen.

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See Also

Devotion to God

Only By the Spirit Can We Truly Say, “Jesus Is Lord”

Beloved, as you rise to meet this day, pause and consider this one staggering truth: “No one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ except by the Holy Spirit” (1 Corinthians 12:3, NASB). These are not idle words. This is the line in the sand between dead religion and living faith. You can recite creeds and attend services, but unless the Spirit of God has breathed life into your soul, the name of Yeshua will never ring out as Lord from the depths of your heart.

Jesus Is Lord—this is not mere doctrine. It is the thunderous confession of a heart conquered by grace. It cannot be manufactured by intellect or emotion. It is born of spiritual rebirth. The flesh recoils at His Lordship. The natural man demands autonomy, but the Spirit reveals a better way: surrender that leads to life.

And yet, many churches today strain under the weight of programs and productions that attempt to create love for Christ without confronting the heart’s need for regeneration. They preach morality without the cross, motivation without repentance, and Jesus as model instead of Jesus as Master. But Jesus is Lord, and that means He is King, Sovereign, and worthy of your total allegiance. No gimmick can produce true devotion. Only the Spirit can draw the soul to kneel in awe and cry out, “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:28, NASB).

This confession—Jesus is Lord—is the Spirit’s work in you. If you can say it with reverence and love, then rejoice! The Spirit has opened your eyes. He has shown you the crucified, risen Savior, and planted within you a hunger for His presence. But if your heart feels cold, pray this morning: Holy Spirit, reveal Jesus to me. Strip away the veil. Let me see the One who died and rose for me, and in seeing Him, may I love Him with all my soul.

Right now, at this moment, heaven is listening.
Right now, at this moment, heaven is listening.

But there is more. If we truly confess Jesus as Lord, we must dethrone another master—ourselves. Romans 6:19 calls us to offer ourselves as slaves to righteousness leading to holiness. The self-life—the proud, stubborn “I”—must be crucified. It cannot co-reign with Christ. God will not share His glory with the ego of man.

The Holy Spirit deals violently with the flesh, but always for the sake of love. He says, “This selfish I cannot live.” The ego is anti-Christ at the root. It loves attention. It craves control. It demands credit. But the Spirit leads us into a deeper surrender, where we echo John the Baptist’s cry, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30, NASB).

This morning, offer no defense for your pride. Do not make peace with your self-centered ambitions. Invite the Spirit to burn away everything in you that resists the Lordship of Christ. Say aloud, “Jesus is Lord”—and mean it with your life.

Let it shape how you speak to your family.
Let it guide how you work and serve today.
Let it determine what you love and what you leave behind.

Create in Me a Pure Heart
A quiet moment of prayer at sunset, offering thanks to God in all circumstances—finding peace and strength in every season.

Jesus is Lord—not just of your Sunday mornings, but of your thoughts, your body, your finances, your affections, your future. You cannot make Him Lord by your own strength. But the Spirit within you can. And He will, if you yield.

Your Spirit whispered truth to me,
And scales fell from my eyes.
You lit the fire that made me free,
And taught my soul to rise.

Prayer

Holy Spirit, awaken in me again the awe and wonder of who Yeshua is. Let me not speak His name lightly, nor serve Him halfway. Destroy in me the selfish ego that exalts itself, and plant instead a deep-rooted humility that treasures Christ above all. Today, may my every word and action confess: Jesus is Lord. Amen.

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See Also

Holiness and Revival

Testimonies that Glorify God


Let God Be Glorified

Come and hear, all who fear God, and I will tell what He has done for my soul (Psalm 66:16, NASB).

This is the voice of one who has tasted the mercy of El Elyon and cannot remain silent. He does not draw attention to himself, but to the power of God. Every true testimony flows from this fountain—it glorifies God alone, not the one who speaks.

The Apostle John, who leaned against Yeshua’s chest and saw the glory of the Word made flesh, heard these words from Heaven: They overcame him because of the blood of the Lamb and because of the word of their testimony (Revelation 12:11, NASB). Notice where the victory rests. Not in strategy, eloquence, or charisma—but in the Lamb and what He has done. The testimony is not a platform for self—it is a declaration of God’s faithfulness and mercy.

Even our Savior warned, Beware of practicing your righteousness before men to be noticed by them (Matthew 6:1, NASB). The danger is not just in falsehood, but in misdirected truth—when we say the right things for the wrong reasons, and shift the spotlight onto ourselves.

Let Boasting Die at the Cross

The Apostle Paul could have boasted. His résumé was unmatched—zealous, learned, bold. Yet he said, Far be it from me to boast, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ (Galatians 6:14, NASB). The cross is where all pride dies. It is where we remember that we were nothing, and He gave us everything. Any story that begins with “I did” must be reexamined. Let every true testimony begin with “God moved.”

Paul reminded the Corinthians, So then neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but God who causes the growth (1 Corinthians 3:7, NASB). We are nothing more than vessels—fragile, breakable, and utterly dependent on El Shaddai to fill us. Testimonies should cause awe, not applause. They should humble, not elevate. If we speak of answered prayers or miracles, let us speak as those trembling in the presence of a holy God.

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

Where Is the Power We Preach?

We have the Word. We memorize the verses. We know what to say. But where is the power? Where is the Presence? We talk about revival, but do we carry it? Yeshua said:

I assure you and most solemnly declare to you that anyone who believes in Me [as Savior] will also perform the same actions as I do. Moreover, they will accomplish even greater feats in scope and reach, for I am going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in My name [as My representative], this I will do, so that the Father may be glorified and celebrated in the Son. If you ask Me anything in My name [as My representative], I will do it (John 14:12–14, AMP).

We love to quote verse 15—If you [really] love Me, you will keep and obey My commandments—but are we living verses 12 through 14? We say we follow Him, but where is the fruit? Where is the unmistakable evidence of His power and Presence moving through us?

If we are honest, we must ask: Have we crafted denominations, doctrinal statements, and creeds to soothe our lack of faith? Are we building altars of reason because we have forgotten the fire of God? When Peter was in the Upper Room before Pentecost, he probably cried out, “Lord, we have nothing left but You.” Have we reached that place? Have we truly died to self?

Truly Dying to Self: A Forgotten Cry

What does it mean to truly die to self? We speak of it often, but do we live it? Picking up our crosses daily sounds poetic until obedience costs us something. Listening to His voice is inspiring until He asks us to release our comfort, our pride, or our reputation. Is there anyone alive today who can say, “I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20, NASB)?

If our hearts were truly right with God, these things would happen. Miracles would follow our prayers. Deliverance would spring from our declarations. Revival would not be a hope—it would be a holy eruption. The reason it doesn’t happen is not that God has changed. He is being true to His Word. He tests hearts. He purifies motives. He waits for a people who will make Him the center of their testimony, not themselves.

We need to keep pressing into Him, asking Him to search us and refine us. We must return to the altar, not to tell God what we’ve done, but to ask Him to reveal our motives so that we may be pure vessels. Our testimonies should reflect the cry of John the Baptist: He must increase, but I must decrease (John 3:30, NASB).

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.

Let Testimonies Burn with His Glory

Even our best obedience is not a trophy—it is a response. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them (Ephesians 2:10, NASB). We are not the authors of greatness. We are the canvas upon which the Master Artist paints His glory.

Let every testimony burn with the truth: It was God. All of it. The mercy. The healing. The change. If He used us, it was not because we were worthy—it was because He is good.

Do not share to impress. Share to exalt. Let your testimony be a trembling offering that points upward, not inward. Speak not of how much faith you had, but how faithful El Olam was to you. Let the story glorify the Name above all names—Yeshua, the Lamb who was slain.

Let Us Pray

O El Shaddai, Mighty and All-Sufficient One,

We come before You with broken hearts, confessing how often we have spoken to be seen, shared to be praised, and testified to exalt ourselves. Forgive us, Lord. Purify our hearts, cleanse our lips, and strip away every hidden motive that does not glorify You.

Teach us what it means to truly die daily—to applause, to recognition, to the craving for man’s approval. Let our testimonies rise like holy incense—fragrant only because You have been faithful. Let them carry the weight of Your glory, not the weight of our names.

We lay our words at Your feet. Sanctify them. Let every syllable exalt the Name above all names—Yeshua, our Redeemer. Let our stories become songs of Your mercy, drawing hearts not to us, but to Your throne.

Burn away pride, expose every imitation, and silence the flesh. Let the fire of Your Spirit purify our witness until only Your power remains. And when we speak, let the world see not us, but You living through us.

We join with the saints, with the seraphim, and with all creation in one cry:

You alone are worthy.

Amen.

Made meek by the spirit
A weathered wooden cross stands silhouetted against a glowing sunset, marking the place where pride ends and surrender begins.

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See Also

Return

Return to the Fire of His Presence

We have the Word. We know the words. We say what we say, and we know what we shouldsay. We repeat them often enough. We try to stir up enough faith to believe. We convince ourselves that we are holy, that we are doing what the Lord wants—but to what end?

Where is the Power? Where is the Presence?

In a vision of Pentecost, Peter cries out, “Lord, we have nothing left but You.” What does that truly mean? Has anyone reached that place? Do we even understand what that cry demands of us today? Surrounded by noise, comfort, distraction—are any of us truly in love with the Lord that deeply?

How do we reach the end of ourselves, the end of all this stuff, to see God’s power manifest, present, and carried with us again?

Beloved, hear the call of the Spirit: return to the fire of His presence.

Not to the words only. Not to the form. Not to the motion. But to the living presence of the Lord.

We say the right things. We know the Scriptures. We quote the prophets. We recite the creeds. We cry, “Lord, Lord,” and we work in His name. But the aching question remains: Where is the power? Where is the trembling of the ground under His footsteps? Where is the weight of glory that makes men weep and fall on their faces?

O generation—you have built much, but have you touched the hem of His robe?
You have filled the air with worship, but have you heard His voice in the secret place?
You’ve followed strategies and ministries and models, but have you fallen in love with the Lord Himself?
You are not alone—I, too, have walked this path. You are just like me. But we cannot stay here.

The time has come for holy desperation.
The time has come to say with tears and trembling:

“Lord, we have nothing left but You.”

What does that mean? It means the idols must fall.
It means we throw down the golden calves of comfort, ego, platform, and applause.
It means we stop clinging to religion that denies the power of God—and we press in until the fire falls again.
It means the pursuit of His presence becomes everything. Not a side note. Not a sermon point. Everything.

O brother. O sister. O weary heart—have you reached the end of yourself yet?

When your strength fails, He becomes your strength.
When your words fall flat, His Spirit groans with power.
When your plans are spent and your hands are empty—then, finally, you are ready.
You are not disqualified because you’re weak.
You are disqualified only if you still trust in your own strength.

Love is breaking through when the Father's in the room
Believers gathered in deep intercessory prayer, lifting silent groanings before God, surrounded by symbols of His covenant promises.

God waits—for those who will weep between the porch and the altar,
for those who will rend their hearts and not just their garments.

“Return to Me with all your heart,” says the Lord, “and I will return to you” 
Joel 2:12–13, NASB).

Sound the Shofar Today
A holy cry rises at sunset—the shofar sounds, declaring to heaven and earth: this world belongs to the Lord.

Let the shofar blast awaken you.
Shake yourself from the dust! The King is at the door!

Will He find faith? Will He find fire?

Or will He find us asleep in the comfort of our programs, while His presence waits outside?

Return to the fire of His presence.

Return with fasting. Return with weeping. Return with longing.
He is not far.
He waits for the brokenhearted.
He dwells with the contrite and lowly of spirit.
Let the cry rise again from the depths of your soul:

“We have nothing left but You.”

And beloved—He is enough.

A Prayer for the Returning Heart

Father, we have wandered in our own ways.
We’ve sung Your songs but not sought Your face.
We’ve built our altars, but we left off the fire.
Have mercy on us, O God. Strip us of every false thing.
Let the fear of the Lord return to our hearts.
We cry out—not for blessings, not for breakthrough, not for platforms—but for You.

We want You, Yeshua.
We need You, Ruach HaKodesh.
Consume us. Burn away everything that hinders love.
Let the fire fall again—not around us, but in us.
Make us the kind of people who carry Your presence.
Let the world see again that You are not an idea.

You are the Living God.
In the holy name of Yeshua,

Amen.

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See Also

Faith

Return to the Ancient Path

A Call to Walk with God

Return to the Ancient Path. Hear the voice of the Lord today, calling you back to Himself. In a world rushing toward destruction, the invitation still stands: leave the broad road and enter the narrow gate. “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad and easy to travel is the path that leads the way to destruction and eternal loss, and there are many who enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow and difficult to travel is the path that leads the way to [everlasting] life, and there are few who find it” (Matthew 7:13-14, AMP).

Return to the Ancient Path where true rest for your soul is found. “Stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is, and walk in it; then you will find a resting place for your souls” (Jeremiah 6:16, NASB). Yet many say, “We will not walk in it.” Will you also turn away, or will you answer the call of God?

The ancient path is not forgotten. It is alive and well, illuminated by the One who is the Light of the world. Jesus is the Way and the Truth and the Life; no one comes to the Father except through Him (John 14:6, NASB). Jesus is the only Way — the only Gate — the only Door that leads to life. There is no other name under heaven by which we must be saved.

God has shown you what is good: “To do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8, NASB). Return to the Ancient Path — the Holy Way — where the unclean cannot travel, where fools cannot stray (Isaiah 35:8, AMP). It is a highway for the redeemed, for those washed in the blood of the Lamb.

Have you stumbled? Have you strayed? “For My people have forgotten Me, they burn incense to worthless gods, and they have stumbled in their ways, in the ancient roads, to walk on paths, not on a highway” (Jeremiah 18:15, NASB). Beloved, return before it is too late. The mercy of God calls you still.

Desperate Cry to the Father
When the Father sees you coming home, He doesn’t wait on the porch—He runs to embrace you. There is no place better. 🕊️

To the faithful remnant, those who have not bowed to idols, who have not compromised their walk — this call is for you also. Stand firm. Strengthen what remains. Return to the Ancient Path with renewed zeal. Walk as Enoch walked, and be found pleasing to God (Genesis 5:24, NASB). Walk as Noah walked — righteous and blameless in your generation (Genesis 6:9, NASB).

Cry out as David did: “Make me know Your ways, Lord; teach me Your paths. Lead me in Your truth and teach me, for You are the God of my salvation” (Psalm 25:4-5, NASB). Trust Him with all your heart. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight”(Proverbs 3:5-6, NASB).

Return to the Ancient Path. The Shepherd of your soul stands ready to lead you. “He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness for the sake of His name”(Psalm 23:3, NASB). He has not forsaken you. His arms are still open. His mercy endures forever.

If we live by the Spirit, let us also walk by the Spirit (Galatians 5:25, NASB). The Ancient Path is the path of life — the way of holiness, righteousness, and peace. Jesus is calling. Do not harden your heart.

Return to the Ancient Path today. The gate is narrow, but it is open. The Way is singular, but it is sure. Jesus is the only Way — and He waits for you.

O Ancient Path, steady and true,
Your ways are mercy, ever new;
We lift our eyes, we will not stray,
Guide us, O Lord, in Your holy way.

A Closing Prayer

Father, in the name of Yeshua, we come before You. You are the Ancient of Days, the God of the eternal covenant. You have called us to the Ancient Path — the way of life, the way of holiness, the way of truth. Lord, we confess we have strayed. We have sought out our own roads, and we have stumbled. But today, by Your mercy, we return.

Father, lead us back. Strengthen the faithful remnant. Awaken the slumbering heart. Set our feet on the narrow road again. Jesus, You are the Way, the Truth, and the Life. We declare there is no other Way but You. Teach us Your paths. Lead us in Your truth. Restore our souls for Your name’s sake.

Holy Spirit, guide us in this hour. Make us a people who walk by the Spirit, who do not turn aside to the left or the right. Seal us in Your righteousness. Uphold us with Your mighty hand. For Your glory, for Your kingdom, and for the honor of Your great Name.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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See Also

Evening Devotions

Rejoicing in God Our Strength

Beloved, listen carefully. Though the night falls and darkness spreads its quiet veil, you are not forsaken. You are not forgotten. Lift your eyes from the barrenness and behold the One who holds the stars in His right hand. Rejoicing in God our strength is not an empty shout; it is the anthem of the faithful, the testimony of those who have tasted and seen that God is good.

Hear the voice of Habakkuk, a voice like yours, burdened by the sight of desolation: “Though the fig tree does not blossom, and there is no fruit on the vines… yet I will [choose to] rejoice in the LORD; I will [choose to] shout in exultation in the [victorious] God of my salvation!”(Habakkuk 3:17-18, AMP). See how he does not deny the barrenness. He does not close his eyes to the empty stalls and withered fields. No, beloved, he stares at the ruin and still chooses to rejoice.

And why? Because he knows the Lord. He knows the One who said, “I will never desert you, nor will I ever abandon you” (Hebrews 13:5, NASB). He knows the One who promised, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9, NASB). He knows the One whose strength is made perfect when your strength fails.

Rejoicing in God our strength is a declaration, a holy rebellion against despair. It is the cry of a soul anchored not in circumstances, but in the unchanging faithfulness of God. Even David, the sweet psalmist of Israel, sang in the night, “The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the defense of my life; whom shall I dread?”(Psalm 27:1, NASB). Fear flees from the heart that is fixed on God.

Beloved, understand this: you are called to more than survival. You are called to walk in victory. “The Lord GOD is my strength [my source of courage, my invincible army]; He has made my feet [steady and sure] like hinds’ feet and makes me walk [forward with spiritual confidence] on my high places [of challenge and responsibility]” (Habakkuk 3:19, AMP). He does not merely steady your feet; He calls you to high places. He sets you on heights where the air is thin and the climb is steep, but the view is glorious.

Do you not remember what Paul wrote? “But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us” (Romans 8:37, NASB). Not barely conquer. Not survive. Overwhelmingly conquer — because He is your strength. Because God is faithful. Because the One who calls you is able to keep you from stumbling and to make you stand in the presence of His glory (Jude 24).

You must not let your soul be weighed down by the emptiness of the fig tree or the barrenness of the vine. Lift up your head. The harvest of the Lord is not measured in the fruit of the earth, but in the fruit of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23, NASB). These fruits never fail. These vines are never barren. And in them, you will find the strength to rejoice.

So tonight, beloved, rejoice in God your strength. Let your praise ascend like incense before the throne. Let your song be loud even in the silence. For He who promised is faithful, and He will not fail you. The One who steadied Habakkuk, the One who upheld David, the One who emboldened Paul — He is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8).

Let us be found faithful. Let us be found rejoicing.

Prayer

Father, we bow before You, choosing tonight rejoicing in God our strength. Though our eyes see little, our hearts see much. We trust in Your goodness, we lean upon Your everlasting arms. Teach us to walk with steady feet on the high places, not shrinking back in fear, but pressing forward in faith. Fill our hearts with the unshakable joy that comes only from Your Spirit. Let our song rise before You, a song of confidence, a song of trust. In the mighty name of Yeshua, our Lord and King, Amen.

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See Also

fasting, Holy Spirit, Prayers, Visions

The Day the Fire Fell

A First-Hand Pentecost Vision

I saw it in a vision.

The Lord opened my eyes, and I stood among them, unseen yet present. I could feel the weight of the room—the thick air, the groaning of souls. It was as if I had been carried back through time, placed within the trembling walls of the upper room, where one hundred and twenty waited. Their faces were worn, desperate. Their knees pressed into the cold stone, and the air crackled with a hunger words could not express.

The walls, ancient and heavy with the dust of centuries, seemed to lean in with the prayers. I watched as lips moved without sound, tears ran unashamed, and hands gripped the hem of heaven itself. The Lord had told them: “Stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high” (Luke 24:49, NASB). And so they waited—not with passivity, but with a fervent, breaking cry.

The sun climbed higher, pouring light through small windows, illuminating swirling motes of dust. The scent of sweat and worn garments filled the air. Yet no one moved for food, no one reached for water. Their thirst was for God alone. I watched a woman collapse against the floor, her face pressed into the stone, whispering one word over and over: “Abba.”

It was not a gathering of the strong. It was an altar of the broken.

Love is breaking through when the Father's in the room
Believers gathered in deep intercessory prayer, lifting silent groanings before God, surrounded by symbols of His covenant promises.

Time passed. Hours. The desperation deepened until it was almost a sound itself—a low hum of hunger in the spirit. Peter knelt with his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking. I could hear his low plea, “Lord, we have nothing left but You.”

That’s when it came.

A sound—first distant, like a storm gathering beyond the hills—then rushing inward, swift and mighty. It was not the wind of earth but the breath of heaven (Acts 2:2). The stones underfoot trembled. Garments fluttered as if caught in a gale, though the air was still.

The roar filled every corner.

God in the Fire
God in the Fire

And then, fire.

It appeared, bright as the sun, fierce and holy. Tongues of flame, living and alive, danced above each head (Acts 2:3). Yet it did not burn. It filled. I saw it—how it sank into them, how their faces lifted, eyes wide, mouths opening with sounds no man had taught them.

The Spirit Himself had come.

They spoke in languages of men and angels. Words of praise, of glory, of the mighty deeds of God poured from their lips. Some wept, undone. Others lifted their hands, faces shining. Some laughed with a joy deeper than any suffering they had known (Nehemiah 8:10). The fire had not only touched them—it claimed them.

I watched as the Spirit pressed them outward, stumbling into the streets. The city gathered quickly, drawn by the uproar. Men from every nation under heaven stared in wonder as these simple, broken vessels proclaimed the glory of God in languages not their own. Parthians, Medes, Egyptians, Romans—all heard the wonders of God in their own tongue.

And then Peter—bold, blazing—stepped forward. I heard his voice, strong and certain, rise above the clamor:

“Repent, and each of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:38, NASB).

The fire leapt from heart to heart.

Three thousand souls were swept into the kingdom that day.

And still, as I stood there, unseen but seeing, I knew: this was not the end. The fire was not meant for one day, one room. It was a beginning. A first spark of a blaze that would run to the ends of the earth.

I could feel it even as the vision faded—the fire has never gone out. It burns still. And for those who dare to wait, who dare to hunger, the Spirit will fall again.

Prayer:

O Lord God, El Shaddai, let us be among those who hunger for You with all our hearts. Pour out Your Spirit anew, ignite the fire within us. May we lay down every burden, every pride, every sin, until only You remain. Come, Holy Spirit, breathe on us. Let the sound of heaven once again fill our hearts and homes. In the mighty name of Yeshua, we pray. Amen.

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See Also

Holy Spirit, Prayers, Unity

Pentecost: A Call to Absolute Reliance on God

When the day of Pentecost had fully come, the disciples were not busy making plans or debating strategies. They were hidden away, hearts low to the ground, souls turned upward. “When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place” (Acts 2:1, NASB). They were not idle. They engaged in tear-soaked prayer—quiet, desperate, persistent prayer in the Upper Room (Acts 1:14, NASB). Pentecost teaches us that absolute reliance on God begins not with action but with prayer.

Prayer was not an afterthought; it was the furnace where their dependence was forged. In the Upper Room, they wept, waited, and wore the floor thin with their knees. They had no other plan. They had no fallback. The strength to fulfill the Great Commission could not be conjured by willpower—it had to be born in prayer. If we are to learn anything from Pentecost today, it is this: we must return to the Upper Room posture. Absolute reliance on God means sinking to our knees and refusing to rise until He answers.

In our generation, prayer is often the last resort. We strategize first, act second, and pray third. Pentecost rebukes this order. The fire of God falls on soaked altars, on lives marinated in the secret place. Prayer must again become our lifeblood, not a hurried sentence but the slow, aching cry of a heart desperate for Him. The world tells us to be busy; Pentecost calls us to be still before El Shaddai, the All-Sufficient One, and wait for His power.

Pentecost also reminds us that prayer is corporate as well as personal. “These all with one mind were continually devoting themselves to prayer…” (Acts 1:14, NASB). They were of one accord—not arguing about doctrinal differences, not boasting, “I follow Paul,” or “I follow Apollos.” Their hearts were knit together in humility and dependence. Division would have quenched the Spirit before He even came. In that upper room, the Spirit of God found a vessel unified and emptied.

And what was the cry of their hearts? These disciples, hunted and threatened, did not ask for protection. They did not pray, “Lord, send angels to defend us,” or “Deliver us from our enemies.” They prayed for boldness—the holy courage to preach the gospel without fear (Acts 4:29, NASB). Absolute reliance on God means trusting not in physical safety but in the triumph of His Word. They understood what it meant to be crucified with Christ. Their lives were already laid down; they sought only the strength to proclaim the Name of Yeshua boldly, even unto death.

The Church today must recover this fearless heart. If we long for revival, we must pray not for ease but for fire—not for comfort but for courage. Absolute reliance on God means trusting Him to sustain, strengthen, and embolden us when the world rages against us. God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and sound judgment (2 Timothy 1:7, NASB).

Beloved, the lesson of Pentecost is clear: if we are to walk in the power of the Spirit, we must first kneel in utter dependence. Absolute reliance on God is not passive—it is an active, unyielding trust formed in the furnace of prayer. Like the disciples, we must forsake all other hopes, all other strengths, and look only to Him who promised, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you” (Acts 1:8, NASB).

Our world is desperate for revival, but revival will not come through clever sermons or polished programs. Revival will be born when men and women of God are found once again in Upper Rooms, floors damp with tears, hearts lifted like incense. Pentecost calls us to be that generation.

Self-Reflection: Walking in Absolute Reliance on God

For the Believer:

  • Am I seeking the fire of God through tear-soaked prayer or am I relying on my own strength?
  • When fear rises, do I pray for protection, or do I ask God for boldness to proclaim His Name?
  • Have I set aside personal ambitions to become fully dependent on El Shaddai, the All-Sufficient One?
  • Is my heart unified with my brothers and sisters, or is division hindering the move of the Spirit in my life?

For the Local Congregation:

  • Are we a church of prayer or a church of programs?
  • Have we created an Upper Room culture where dependence on the Spirit is our first response?
  • Do we spend more time strategizing or more time seeking the face of God together?
  • Is boldness to preach the Gospel part of our prayers, or have we settled for safety and comfort?

For the Denomination:

  • Are we leaning on heritage and tradition, or are we actively dependent on the living Spirit of God?
  • Are we unified in mission and spirit, or divided by secondary matters that grieve the Holy Spirit?
  • Have we lost our boldness, forgetting the fearless prayers of the early Church?
  • How will our generation be remembered — as those who sought revival through prayer and unity, or as those who trusted in human plans?

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Prayer

O Sovereign Lord, we come to You stripped of all pretense and power. Teach us again to wait before You in prayer, to soak the ground with tears, to hunger for nothing but Your presence. Forgive us for trusting in our strength and teach us absolute reliance on You. Birth in us the Upper Room cry, the unrelenting groan for Your Spirit. And when You come, Lord, grant us boldness—not comfort, not safety—but boldness to declare Your Word without fear. May our lives be the altar, and may Your fire fall again. In the mighty name of Yeshua, we pray. Amen.

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See Also

Revival

Revival: What We Can Learn from Previous Moves

When God moves, He does not simply fill a room—He shakes the very foundations of hearts and nations. Revival is never about bigger crowds, more services, or even temporary excitement. It is about the manifest presence of God descending upon His people with power, holiness, and undeniable glory. As we reflect on previous moves of God, they instruct us not only in recognizing true revival but in preparing ourselves for it.

During the First Great Awakening, it was not eloquent sermons but the heavy conviction of sin that swept across entire towns. The Azusa Street Revival was not built on slick programs but on humble prayer, with miracles, healings, and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit marking the days. In the Welsh Revival, society itself bowed—crime plummeted, taverns closed, and homes became houses of prayer. Revival, historically, has never been about filling seats; it has been about emptying hearts before God.

Today, some churches rejoice in growth—three services, full pews, and five or six salvations a month. And indeed, heaven rejoices over one sinner who repents (Luke 15:10, NASB). Yet, revival is not simply more activity or bigger buildings. True revival is when the very atmosphere becomes saturated with God’s holiness. It is not measured by numbers but by transformation—radical, visible, undeniable change.

And there is a deeper problem in the body today: walls. Many churches have built up barriers against fellow believers over “doctrinal errors,” disagreements, and prideful divisions. Instead of the body being one, it has been fractured into camps. But in a true revival, God would tear down those walls.

“For He Himself is our peace, who made both groups into one and broke down the barrier of the dividing wall.” (Ephesians 2:14, NASB)

Revival will demolish the pride that fuels division. It will make theological arguments melt before the overwhelming presence of God. It will cause us to weep not only for the lost but for the way we have treated one another. Doctrinal purity matters, but love for the brethren is the mark of true discipleship (John 13:35, NASB). In revival, the walls man built will crumble under the hand of the Almighty, and the Church will be called back to unity in Christ—not uniformity of opinion, but unity of Spirit.

What would revival look like today?

It would break out of our carefully crafted schedules. It would overtake ordinary days with extraordinary encounters. Miracles would once again be signs that point to the living God, not spectacles for entertainment. Broken bodies, broken hearts, and broken homes would be healed.

It would not be confined to one church. True revival would leap from city to city, home to home, heart to heart—uncontainable and unstoppable.

It would not simply save souls but disciple nations. It would not just gather crowds but gather worshipers who worship in spirit and truth.

And it would be fueled by repentance—deep, raw, tear-streaked repentance. Not only for our sins but for our divisions. For our pride. For the walls we built where God called us to be one.

Revival today would be holy chaos: sinners saved, saints sanctified, the proud humbled, and the walls between believers torn down by the hand of God Himself.

No man could orchestrate it. No program could schedule it. No wall could withstand it.

Only God could do it—and only hungry hearts will see it.

But before we cry out for revival in our nation, we must ask: are our own houses ready to host His presence?

Self-Reflection for Houses of God: Preparing the Congregation for Revival

Before revival sweeps through cities, it must first sweep through the house of God—the local congregation. We often long to see the fire fall, but have we prepared the altar where it might rest? Revival does not begin in the crowds; it begins in the hearts of the leaders, the worshipers, and the intercessors within the house.

“For it is time for judgment to begin with the household of God.” (1 Peter 4:17, NASB)

If we truly desire revival today, we must first examine our house:

  • Is Jesus exalted above all programs and personalities?
  • Is the Word of God honored without compromise?
  • Is prayer the engine of the congregation, or an afterthought?
  • Are we walking in unity, or are divisions and offenses quietly tolerated?
  • Are miracles welcomed or explained away?
  • Is holiness pursued, or is it considered optional?

Far too often, churches today are busy building walls—walls of doctrinal division, walls of competition, walls of pride. We must repent. In true revival, God will tear down every wallwe have built to separate ourselves from the larger body of Christ. If we cling to factions, if we protect our image more than His presence, revival will bypass us.

Revival will come to the house that is hungry for God, not for applause. It will fall where the Spirit is not grieved but welcomed. It will rest where repentance is real, prayer is fervent, and Jesus alone is glorified.

How can we apply this to our house of God?

  • Call the congregation to fasting and prayer.
  • Tear down unspoken offenses and seek reconciliation.
  • Re-center the ministry on the Word and the Spirit.
  • Remove anything that quenches the move of God—whether pride, control, or tradition.
  • Teach and model humility, holiness, and hunger.
  • Be willing to lose the crowds if it means gaining His presence.

Revival today will not look like bigger budgets and flashier lights. It will look like a humble congregation on their knees, weeping for more of God, welcoming His Spirit, and abandoning everything else for the sake of His glory.

If we prepare the house, He will come.

“Prepare the way of the Lord, make His paths straight!” (Mark 1:3, NASB)

See Also