Tag Archives: revival

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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Return

Return to the Fire of His Presence

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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

Holy Spirit, Prayers, Unity

Pentecost: A Call to Absolute Reliance on God

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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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Revival

Revival: What We Can Learn from Previous Moves

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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

Remnant, Return

The Eternal Creator Reigns

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Return to Him

The Eternal Creator Reigns — Return to Him. This is the call echoing across the earth in this hour. Our God, the Maker of heaven and earth, reigns with unchanging power and glory. He calls His people, the remnant, to return to Him — to forsake idols, to lay aside distractions, and to behold the beauty of His holiness once again. The Eternal Creator Reigns — Return to Him and find restoration for your soul.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth (Genesis 1:1, NASB). By His Word, all things were made — the stars in their courses, the oceans in their bounds, the beasts of the field, and mankind in His image (Genesis 1:20; Psalm 33:6). He alone stretched out the heavens, laid the foundations of the earth, and calls the hosts of heaven by name (Isaiah 48:13; Job 26:7).

Today, the Spirit of the Lord speaks clearly: “Return.” Return, O remnant, to the One who formed you from the dust (Genesis 2:7). Return to the Creator who breathed life into your soul. “Remember your Creator in the days of your youth” (Ecclesiastes 12:1). “Return to Me, for I have redeemed you” (Isaiah 44:22).

The prophets cried out. The psalmists sang it. The apostles preached it. The Eternal Creator reigns, and He is calling His people back. His Word does not change (Malachi 3:6). His covenant stands sure. “The counsel of the LORD stands forever” (Psalm 33:11). He is the Alpha and the Omega, who was, and is, and is to come (Revelation 1:8).

O Church, return to the LORD who made you. Return to the One who forms the mountains and creates the wind (Amos 4:13). Return to the One who fills the heavens with His glory and the earth with His majesty (Isaiah 6:3). Return to the only true God, for He alone gives life and breath to all things (Acts 17:24-25).

Now lift your voice with holy fear and boldness:

You are awesome, O God of power, Lord of glory. Fill this place with Your manifest presence!

Let the weight of Your glory descend. Let every heart be stilled. Let every tongue confess: You alone are God. As You filled the tabernacle with the cloud and the temple with Your glory, so fill this house, fill this people, fill this hour.

Manifest Your presence, O LORD! Let Your power shake the heavens. Let Your glory fall as fire on the altar. Let us not merely know about You but behold You. Come, Ancient of Days, and let Your remnant arise — purified, humbled, burning with holy fire.

Declare it boldly, Church: The Eternal Creator reigns — and He calls us to return. This is the word for the season. Return to Him while He may be found. Seek Him while He is near (Isaiah 55:6).

Our God reigns — now and forever!

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Prayer

O LORD, Ancient of Days, we hear Your call to return. You are the Eternal Creator, the Maker of heaven and earth, the One who was before all things and in whom all things hold together. We return to You — to Your holiness, to Your truth, to Your glory.

You are awesome, O God of power, Lord of glory. Fill this place with Your manifest presence. Let the fire of Your holiness fall. Let the remnant rise. Let the sleeping awaken. Draw us to Yourself with cords of love and make us vessels of Your glory in this generation.

Come and dwell among us, O King of Glory. Be enthroned in our praises. Be magnified in our midst.

In the mighty name of Yeshua HaMashiach, we pray. Amen.

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See Also

Prayers, Tongues

Tongues as Deep Spiritual Groanings

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Intercessory Travail

Unlocking the Mystery: The Four Kinds of Tongues in the Bible – Part 4

There are moments in the life of a believer when words fail, and prayer moves beyond language into the realm of deep spiritual groanings. This is not the formal tongues spoken in public, nor even the personal prayer language; it is Spirit-led intercession so profound that it cannot be expressed in human speech.

“In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know what to pray for as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” (Romans 8:26, NASB)

These are the times when the Holy Spirit prays through us — birthing, warring, and interceding for the will of God to be done on earth as it is in heaven.

What Are Deep Spiritual Groanings?

Unlike other kinds of tongues where structured speech is given, deep spiritual groanings are the sighs, cries, and wordless utterances born from the deepest part of the soul. The believer’s spirit, under the influence of the Holy Spirit, utters what the mind cannot conceive.

Paul describes it as a kind of divine burden:

“For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now.” (Romans 8:22, NASB)

Just as creation groans for redemption, so believers sometimes enter into deep spiritual travail — groaning with God’s Spirit for breakthrough, for nations, for revival, or for the salvation of souls.

Why Deep Spiritual Groanings Matter

These moments are not simply emotional experiences; they are spiritual transactions. In these times:

  • The Holy Spirit aligns our prayers with the perfect will of God.
  • Intercession becomes deeper and more effective, bypassing human limitations.
  • Spiritual breakthroughs are birthed unseen, but felt powerfully.

When we are too weak, too burdened, or too confused to know how to pray, the Spirit steps in — carrying our prayer life beyond what our minds can comprehend.

Travail for Revival

In the late 20th century, before a major revival broke out in Brownsville, Florida, a small group of intercessors gathered weekly. During those gatherings, prayer often moved beyond words. People groaned and cried out under the weight of a burden they couldn’t articulate. Shortly after, a wave of revival swept through their church, impacting thousands with salvation and restoration — a visible answer to the invisible groanings of the Spirit.

The Labor Pains of New Birth

Paul compares the work of prayer to childbirth:

“My children, with whom I am again in labor until Christ is formed in you.” (Galatians 4:19, NASB)

Labor is intense, exhausting, and filled with groanings. But labor results in new life. So it is with deep spiritual groanings — they are the labor pains of birthing God’s purposes into reality.

Self-Examination Questions

  • Have I invited the Holy Spirit to lead me beyond my own understanding in prayer?
  • Do I press deeper when prayer becomes difficult, trusting the Spirit to intercede through me?
  • Am I willing to carry burdens in prayer until breakthrough comes?
Faith That Builds When Others Doubt
A woman in quiet prayer, building faith in the unseen—trusting God before the storm comes.

Groanings Too Deep for Words

Deep spiritual groanings are not signs of weakness; they are evidence of the Spirit’s strength working through us. In these moments, the believer touches the heart of God, interceding not with eloquence, but with the raw, Spirit-born language of heaven.

“He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.” (Romans 8:27, NASB)

Yield to these groanings. Trust that God hears them. They are powerful, effective, and they move heaven and earth.

Prayer

Holy Spirit, thank You for helping us when we are weak. Teach us to trust You when words fail and to surrender to the deep groanings You birth within us. Let our prayers align with God’s perfect will. Move through us to bring revival, healing, and salvation to the earth. In Yeshua’s name we pray, amen.

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See Also

Kept reading eh?

“Groanings Too Deep for Words”

Lyrics:

[Verse 1]
When words fall silent, and my heart can’t speak,
Your Spirit prays for me, when I am weak.
Groanings rise like rivers unseen,
You carry my soul where I’ve never been.

[Pre-Chorus]
In the stillness, You are near,
Breaking through every doubt and fear.

[Chorus]
Groanings too deep for words,
Spirit, You move in the unseen surge.
Heaven and earth align,
In the soundless cry that touches the divine.

[Verse 2]
You intercede with holy fire,
Breathing life to my silent desire.
When my strength is gone and hope feels blurred,
You speak for me in groanings unheard.

[Pre-Chorus]
In the stillness, You are near,
Breaking through every doubt and fear.

[Chorus]
Groanings too deep for words,
Spirit, You move in the unseen surge.
Heaven and earth align,
In the soundless cry that touches the divine.

[Bridge]
Birth in me what eyes can’t see,
Move in power, set captives free.
Groanings rise, the battle turns,
As heaven bends to Spirit yearns.

[Chorus]
Groanings too deep for words,
Spirit, You move in the unseen surge.
Heaven and earth align,
In the soundless cry that touches the divine.

[Outro]
Groanings too deep… too deep for words,
Spirit, speak what can’t be heard.

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

Lukewarm

Rise into the Fullness of Faith

“Choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve… but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” — Joshua 24:15 (AMP)

Beloved, hear what the Spirit is saying: God is not calling you to climb halfway. He is not pleased with lukewarm devotion, for the Lord of glory did not pour out His blood for mediocrity. He gave everything that we might live in the fullness of faith and wholly unto Him.

Many walk halfway up the mountain and pitch their tents there. They are no longer in the valley of open rebellion, but neither have they ascended into the holy place where the presence of God fills every breath. Like Israel standing at Sinai, they see the smoke and hear the thunder but dare not draw near. Yet the voice of Yeshua still calls: “Come up here!” (Revelation 4:1, NASB).

The blood of the Lamb was not spilled for a half-hearted Church. It was shed that we might be redeemed, sanctified, and filled with power from on high. “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God’s own possession…” (1 Peter 2:9, NASB). This is not the language of mediocrity. It is the high calling of saints set apart in fullness of faith.

Let us not forget: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me.” (Galatians 2:20, NASB). If the risen King indwells you by His Spirit, how then can you be content with a life of shallow devotion and powerless ritual? The Holy Spirit is not a concept. He is a consuming fire. He leads us into all truth, convicts of sin, strengthens in weakness, and overflows with rivers of living water (John 16:13; Romans 8:26; John 7:38).

Tozer wrote rightly: “They are morally above the hardened sinner but spiritually beneath the shining saint.” But let the Word of God rebuke this halfway living. “I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot; I wish that you were cold or hot. So because you are lukewarm… I will vomit you out of My mouth.” (Revelation 3:15–16, NASB).

You must choose. Choose today. As Joshua declared before the assembly, so now the Spirit presses upon the Church again: Choose whom you will serve. The cross demands your everything. The Spirit demands your yielding in fullness of faith. And God will not share His glory with lesser loves.

There is more in God than most dare to ask for. More love. More power. More holiness. “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” (James 4:8, NASB). But the halfway Christian will not draw near. He remains in the shadow, comforted by good reputation and empty religious habits. Do not be deceived: God is not mocked. What you sow, you will reap (Galatians 6:7).

El Shaddai has not changed. He still speaks in fire. He still shakes the heavens and the earth. He still fills the house where the saints gather with wind and glory (Acts 2:2–4). The difference is not in God—the difference is in us. Will we go beyond the threshold? Will we press in to know Him? “Let us press on to know the Lord. His going out is as certain as the dawn.” (Hosea 6:3, NASB) as we journey in the fullness of faith.

No more mediocrity. No more compromise. Let us throw off every weight and sin that so easily entangles, and run with endurance the race set before us (Hebrews 12:1). Let us be done with the praise of man, the fear of missing out, the paralysis of indecision. Let us burn for God.

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Your altar blazes with holy flame,
And still I choose to climb.
Though feet may falter on the way,
Your Spirit speaks in time.
No peak too high, no cost too steep,
To gain the One divine.

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Prayer:

Abba Father, we reject mediocrity in Your name. You are worthy of full devotion—not a portion, not a part. Cleanse us from half-heartedness. Burn away the dullness of routine. Ignite in us a hunger for Your presence that nothing else can satisfy. Fill us with Your Spirit, El Elyon, that we may serve You fully, walk in power, and reflect the image of Yeshua to a world in darkness in fullness of faith. We seek Your face—not just Your gifts—and we say with trembling hearts, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” Amen.

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See Also

Choose This Day

Come to the One Sent by the Father

Beloved, you who hunger for truth and long for something more—listen. The Father sent the Son, not to judge you, but to save you (John 3:17). Yeshua, the Lamb of God, was not an afterthought nor a distant Savior. He came in the fullness of time, sent by the Father, bearing heaven’s authority and the weight of divine love.

The prophets foresaw Him. “I have called You in righteousness… and will appoint You as a covenant to the people, as a light to the nations” (Isaiah 42:6). “Come near to Me, listen to this: From the beginning I have not spoken in secret, from the time it took place, I was there. And now the Lord God has sent Me, and His Spirit” (Isaiah 48:16). And again: “Many nations will join themselves to the Lord in that day… and will become My people” (Zechariah 2:11). His coming was foreseen, even as one sent by His Father.

This is that day. Yeshua is the Sent One, and He is calling you now.

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

God’s Faithfulness and My Journey

My life bears witness to this truth. Years ago in Nashua, NH, I encountered Yeshua through my girlfriend. I accepted Him into my heart, and everything changed. My first pastor, Kyn, baptized me in his backyard pool, and El Shaddai began a transforming work in me, just as it is written: “He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:6, NASB). This transformation, orchestrated by the One sent by the Father, marked the beginning of a new journey.

Later, I moved to Syracuse, NY, to help plant a church. I took on many roles and became an ordained pastor. But under the weight of ministry, I faltered. I burned out. Divorced and disillusioned, I walked away—not only from my calling but slowly from God. I spent nearly twenty years in a wilderness of silence.

But God wasn’t finished with me.

In October 2023, while looking for retirement income, I began writing again. What began as a practical step turned into a divine encounter. The Lord led me to combine my photography with devotional writing—and that’s when breath entered dry bones. “This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life” (Ezekiel 37:5). The Holy Spirit stirred, and my soul awakened. Where I once avoided people, I now pursue them to share His love. His Spirit now guides every step.

He has spared me from death, carried me through sickness, and brought peace into my chaos. “The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7, NASB). He supplied what I lacked (Philippians 4:19), strengthened me when I had nothing left (2 Corinthians 12:9, AMP), and healed wounds I didn’t even understand (Jeremiah 30:17, AMP). Through His infinite grace, the Father sent His peace into my chaos.

I testify today: God’s promises are unshakable. He has never failed me.

The Joy of Heaven
Jesus rests with friends in Bethany, finding peace and fellowship before the cross, while Mary and Martha quietly serve in love.

The One Who Was Sent

Yeshua did not come on His own. He was sent. Indeed, sent by the Father for a purpose.

“I have not come of Myself, but He sent Me” (John 8:42).

“This is the work of God, that you believe in Him whom He has sent” (John 6:29).

“He who receives Me receives Him who sent Me” (John 13:20).

To believe in the Son is to believe in the Father. To reject the Son is to reject the One who sent Him. Yeshua spoke only what the Father gave Him (John 12:49), and performed works that bore witness to His divine sending (John 5:36).

He was the final word, the beloved Son whom the Father said, “They will respect My Son” (Matthew 21:37). Will you respect Him? Will you receive Him?

No Guilt in Life No Fear in Death
The face of an apostle, marked by reflection and resolve, beholding the risen Christ—no guilt in life, no fear in death.

The Call

Let my story speak to your heart. If El Shaddai could awaken a weary servant, bring peace to years of silence, and breathe life into dry bones—He can do the same for you. The One sent by the Father continues to call and restore.

“Just as the Father has sent Me, I also send you” (John 20:21). He sends us still—to love, to serve, to speak truth, and to walk in the power of the Spirit. And this is eternal life: “that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent” (John 17:3).

Come. Believe. Receive the One sent by the Father.

Prayer

El Shaddai, You who sent Your Son in love and truth—open the hearts of those reading now. Let them feel the weight of Your glory and the tenderness of Your mercy. Draw the wandering home. Revive the weary. Let the breath of heaven fall again. I thank You for my journey—for every valley and every restoration. May it point back to You. Use me now to serve Your people and speak Your truth. In the mighty name of Yeshua, the Sent One—Amen.

See Also

Return

When We Say “Come” – God Says “Return”

The True Distance Between Us and God

Look again. That ache in your spirit crying, “Come, Lord”—it may not reveal His absence, but your distance. God hasn’t gone anywhere. He stands right beside you, unchanged and ever near. And yet we look around, frantic and pleading, while He watches with a mix of sorrow and gentle amusement. Sorrow, because we’ve wandered. Amusement, because we’re searching for what was never lost. Is it sin that blinds us? Idols that distract? Pride that numbs? When we cry, “Come,” He answers, “Return.” Not in anger, but in mercy—calling us back to the place where He’s been all along.

Beloved, how often do our prayers begin with, “Come, Lord Jesus”—as if He had gone somewhere far off? How often do we lift our hands, ache in our voices, longing for God to descend, forgetting that He has already drawn near? The Spirit broods over the waters of our lives, and the Son stands at the door and knocks. Yet we plead, “Come!” as though He were absent. And in the stillness, the voice of the Father answers, “Return to Me.”

“Return to Me, and I will return to you,” says the Lord of hosts (Malachi 3:7, NASB). This is not contradiction. It is correction. The cry of “Come, Lord!” often masks the fact that it is our hearts that have wandered, not His. We pray for revival, for God to show up, for His presence to be known. But He has not moved. He is the Ancient of Days, seated and steadfast. It is we who have run after idols, grown cold, hidden behind our busyness or pain.

Yeshua said, “I am with you always” (Matthew 28:20, NASB), and again, “Where two or three are gathered in My name, I am there” (Matthew 18:20, NASB). He has already come. The presence of the Holy One surrounds us like the wind—felt but unseen. And yet, how blind we are when sin fogs our eyes or pride numbs our hearts.

“Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you” (James 4:8, NASB). This is the sacred tension. Our lips cry “Come,” but God says, “Return.” And if we would humble ourselves, tear down the altars we’ve built to self and success, and once again seek His face—not just His hand—we would discover what was always true: He never left.

He is the God who stands in the fire, the whisper in the cave, the One who walks beside us on the road and is only recognized when our hearts burn within us. When we say “Come,” let it not be an accusation of absence, but a confession of our own distance. And let His voice thunder back—not in anger, but in mercy—“Return.”

I cried out, “Come!” with desperate plea,
But You, O Lord, were still with me.
The space I felt was not Your part—
It came from my divided heart.

Prayer

Holy Father, forgive us for calling You absent when it was we who left. Forgive us for asking You to “come” while we clung to idols, routine, and noise. Today, we respond to Your cry—“Return to Me.” We cast off our distractions. We rend our hearts. We choose the secret place. Let us find You again where You have always been—waiting with mercy, watching like the Father for the prodigal. In the name of Yeshua, who made the way back home, Amen.

See Also