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Holiness and Revival

Testimonies that Glorify God

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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

Holy Spirit

Where Is the Fire? 

A Call to Live by the Spirit

Oh, for that flame of living fire! The ancient hymn sighs with longing, its words almost lost to a generation numb to holy passion. Where is that Spirit, Lord, which once set the hearts of saints ablaze, which filled prophets with boldness and caused apostles to endure shipwreck, hunger, and sword with unwavering joy?

We must ask ourselves, Where is the fire? And we must answer honestly. The fire of the Spirit has not vanished; it has simply been replaced — replaced by comfort, self-interest, and a cross-less Christianity. The Apostle Paul gave the key when he declared: “But far be it from me to boast, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.” (Galatians 6:14, NASB)

If we desire to live by the Spirit as those saints did, we must return to the cross. There is no shortcut. There is no modern substitute.

Living by the Spirit Begins at the Cross

To live by the Spirit is to first die at the cross. Jesus said plainly, “If anyone wants to come after Me, he must deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow Me.” (Luke 9:23, NASB) To live under the Spirit’s rule moment by moment, we must let the cross do its work, severing our attachment to the world and emptying us of self.

Many today want the fire without the altar. But Scripture is clear: “Present your bodies as a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship.”(Romans 12:1, NASB) Without sacrifice, there is no fire.

Living by the Spirit today looks like surrender — absolute, unrelenting, joyful surrender. It is not a Sunday activity but a daily death. It is the laying down of plans, the renouncing of pride, the crucifying of comfort.

What Living by the Spirit Looks Like Today

To live by the Spirit in today’s world is to walk in conscious, continual submission to God’s voice. It is a life that bears the fruit of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23, NASB)

It looks like believers who are bold in their witness, unashamed of the gospel, as Paul was when he wrote, “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes.” (Romans 1:16, NASB)

It looks like saints who are not driven by fear or anxiety, but who trust wholly in God’s providence: “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and pleading with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” (Philippians 4:6, NASB)

It looks like households where prayer is not an afterthought, but the breath of the home. It looks like workplaces where integrity shines, conversations where grace abounds, and lives so surrendered that the fragrance of Christ follows everywhere they go.

A community gathered in Spirit-led worship, encircling the fire—symbol of God’s presence—each heart lifted in surrender and awe before the Lord.

Why Has the Fire Diminished?

Why must we ask, “Where is that Spirit, Lord?” It is because we have settled for a form of godliness without its power (2 Timothy 3:5). We have exchanged the Spirit’s fire for the world’s approval. We have chosen safety over surrender.

The saints of old walked in the power of the Spirit because they first walked the narrow way of the cross. They were crucified to the world, dead to its charms, and alive only to God.

If we would regain the fire, we must return to that narrow path. Jesus warned, “Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is broad that leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it.” (Matthew 7:13, NASB)

A Call to Rekindle the Flame

Where is the fire? It waits for those willing to lay all on the altar. It waits for those who will take up the cross daily, die to self, and live by the Spirit.

Today, the call is urgent. Lay down your life anew. Present yourself as a living sacrifice. Crucify the flesh with its passions and desires (Galatians 5:24). Boast only in the cross of Christ, and watch as the fire returns — not as a flickering candle, but as a consuming blaze.

We need not sigh with nostalgia for a bygone era. The Spirit has not changed. “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today, and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8, NASB) His fire still falls — but only where there is fuel. Only where there is surrender.

Let us forsake the comforts of this world and seek the face of El Shaddai. Let us live by the Spirit, moment by moment, breath by breath, until our lives burn as living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to God.

Then, and only then, will the world look at the Church and see not a hollow religion, but a living fire.

Closing Prayer

Lord Yeshua, we kneel at the foot of Your cross. Crucify our pride, our comfort, our idols. Set our hearts ablaze with the fire of Your Spirit. Let us live by the Spirit, walking in the steps You have marked out for us. May our lives be living flames, drawing all men to You. Amen.

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See Also

Humility

Made Meek by the Spirit

The Cross That Breaks Us Free

You who long for rest, come closer now.

You were not made to carry this burden of self. You were not created to live in the realm of the flesh. “You, however, are not in the realm of the flesh but are in the realm of the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God lives in you” (Romans 8:9, AMP). The Spirit of God, the very breath of Yeshua, now lives within those who believe. But many are still bowed under the heavy yoke of pride, of self-sufficiency, of pretending to be enough. And you, beloved, you were never meant to carry it alone.

I write to you with the love of John, the one who leaned on Yeshua’s chest and heard the heartbeat of Heaven. Listen with your spirit: God opposes the proud, but He gives grace to the humble. The cross was never meant to decorate your life. It was meant to crucify your flesh, destroy your pride, and lay your weapons of defense in the dust. The cross is not gentle, but it is good.

You cannot truly come to the cross unless the Holy Spirit leads you. You may admire its beauty. You may understand its theology. But only the Spirit of God can cause you to fall before it and say, “Not my will, but Yours.” Only He can break the stubbornness of the soul. Only He can expose the lie of your own goodness and bring you low enough to be lifted up by grace. This is what it means to be made meek by the Spirit.

God the Transcendent One Has Come Near

God is high and holy—El Elyon, the Most High. He dwells in unapproachable light. He rides upon the wings of the wind and commands stars to burn. But He has not remained far off. The cross has bridged the gulf. The Lamb has made a way. And He, the Transcendent One, calls to you even now: “Come unto Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest… for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matthew 11:28–29, AMP).

Do you hear it? Do you feel it stir inside your chest? That tug is not emotion. It is the Spirit of the living God calling you into the realm of the Spirit, calling you to surrender. He does not call with condemnation but with invitation. The blood of Yeshua still speaks, still cleanses, still makes you new.

But you must come.

The Process of Being Made Meek by the Spirit

You say, “I’ve already come to Him.” But have you truly laid down your weapons? Have you let Him dismantle your self-defense and pride? Have you let Him make you meek?

This is not a passive thing. This is not about being nice. Meekness is strength submitted. It is fire under control. It is the lion bowing before the Lamb.

The Spirit does not negotiate with pride. He breaks it. He does not adjust your image. He crucifies it. And in that breaking, in that surrender, in that yielding of all you are—you are made free. To be made meek by the Spirit is to walk in the footsteps of the One who humbled Himself unto death, even death on a cross.

A Cross-Carrying Life

The world offers admiration for the proud. The Church, sadly, sometimes does the same. But God exalts the humble. The ones who bow low are the ones lifted high. The ones who come undone before Him are the ones clothed in His righteousness.

You were not born to be impressive. You were born to be conformed to the image of the Son.This requires death—death to pride, death to performance, death to your own plans. But oh, what life flows from that death! Tozer called it being “meeked.” I call it being remade by glory.

Come and Be Undone

So, come. Fall at the foot of the cross again. Let the Spirit examine your heart. Let Him whisper, convict, correct, and cleanse. You will find no safer place to be undone than before the One who already bled for you.

This is the way to revival. Not stadiums. Not programs. But broken hearts. Bowed knees. Souls made meek by the Spirit.

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In silence deep, my soul lays bare,
Your Spirit moving soft as prayer.
No voice, yet all of Heaven speaks,
Where hearts are low and spirits meek.

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Prayer

Holy Spirit, I welcome You. Come and break my pride. Come and destroy every high thought that exalts itself against the knowledge of God. Make me meek. Humble me, change my mind about my own goodness, and lay me bare before the cross. I yield my defenses, my excuses, my self-made righteousness. Come closer than my breath and make me like Yeshua. Let me find rest in His humility. In His name I pray, Amen.

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See Also

Devotion to God, Faith

Before the Rooster Crows

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.

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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.

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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.

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See Also