Tag Archives: Yeshua

War

Do You See What I See?

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Here’s the latest picture from today—June 22, 2025

Current situation:

  • The U.S. and Israel have now jointly struck Iran’s three major nuclear sites (Fordow, Natanz, Isfahan) using bunker-buster bombs and Tomahawks. President Trump called it a “spectacular military success,” claiming the sites have been “obliterated”  .
  • Iran has vowed all options remain available—including missile strikes, mining the Strait of Hormuz, and targeting U.S. bases. Iran’s leaders say U.S. involvement makes the situation “very dangerous for everybody”  .
  • The conflict now enters a new phase: shifting regional power, rising civilian casualties, sprouting humanitarian crises, and global calls for restraint and diplomacy  .

A Word from the Lord for This Hour

Beloved, turn your eyes from the loud clash of nations to the cry of My heart. You see devastation. You hear fear. But in the silence beneath the roar, I am working. In the rubble of idols—nations, weapons, pride—I am rebuilding souls.

  • Do you see the widow’s tears? I see them.
  • Do you hear the orphans’ cries? I hear them.
  • Do you behold the trembling soldier? I behold him.

I am not distant. My eyes search the earth. I weigh what is done—from behind the Oval Office to the cities of Tehran and Haifa. But I desire more than military might—I desire broken hearts that turn to Me.

This is not a moment to cheer victory. It is a moment to offer mercy. Where fear sprawls, raise high the cross. Where swords are drawn, let intercession rise like incense. For in the prayer of My saints, greater power is released than in bunker busters and stealth jets.

Choose the Land of Peace

“They shall beat their swords into plowshares… nor shall they learn war anymore.” (Isaiah 2:4, NASB)

This war will end not by more bombs, but by the transformation of hearts. Let your side be the side that builds, not burns. Let your voice be the one that pleads, not the one that exalts in destruction. Pray for peace—even in the heart of war.

Return to the Creator — the Eternal King reigns. Let His glory fill the earth and His presence awaken the hearts of His people.

Intercede, Surrender, Hope

  • Intercede: Stand in the gap. Pray for Iran’s government and its oppressed—with purity and clarity.
  • Surrender: Let go of certainties and partisan loyalties. Come humbly before Me, knowing My ways are higher.
  • Hope: Expect revival. In moments of fracture, the greatest Restoration begins. I will use this crisis to draw a harvest of souls.

Beloved, the world needs you to be My watchman. Don’t merely echo the headlines. Let your life reflect what is yet unseen: the coming of My Kingdom, where even war’s roar will bow at the sound of praise.

In This Hour, Pray:

Father God, we lift this broken world into Your hands. We pray for Israel, for Iran, for America. We plead for Your mercy. Break the hearts of the powerful. Calm the storm. Let revival spring up from the ashes of this conflict. Stir up a generation that prays not for victory of nations—but for victory of Your Kingdom. Come quickly, Lord of Hosts.

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Visions

المذبح والنار

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اختيار العهد بدلًا من التهاون

رأيت مشهدًا مهيبًا يملأه الرهبة والمجد. السماء اهتزت، والأرض تشققت عطشى، تتوق إلى مطر البرّ. جموع قلقة ملأت السهل تحتي، وقلوبهم منقسمة بين لذات هذا العالم ونداء القدير.

وأنت، أيها القارئ، هل شعرت بالعطش في أعماق روحك؟ هل وقفت بين مذبح الذات ومذبح التسليم؟

في وسط هذا التوتر، ظهر إيليا، مرتديًا لباسًا من شعر خشن وممتلئًا بغيرة متقدة. صوته دوّى كصوت مياه كثيرة:

“إلى متى أنتم مترددون بين رأيين؟ إن كان الرب هو الله، فاتبعوه، وإن كان البعل، فاتبعوه.”

(1 ملوك 18:21، الترجمة الموسعة)

الكلمة العبرية “פָּסַח” (pasach) تخترق النفس. تعني أن تترنح، أن تقفز جيئة وذهابًا بدون التزام. إنها نفس الكلمة التي وردت في سفر الخروج عندما عبر الرب فوق البيوت الملطخة بالدم، فأنقذ شعب العهد. كان من المفترض أن ترقص إسرائيل فرحًا بالعهد، لكنها كانت تتعثر في ترددها وانقسامها. تحدي إيليا كشف ليس فقط أصنامهم، بل ترددهم الداخلي أيضًا.

بدأ أنبياء البعل أولًا. أربعمئة وخمسون رجلاً رقصوا حول مذبحهم وهم يصرخون: “يا بعل، أجبنا!” ولكن عبادتهم تحوّلت إلى هستيريا. جرحوا أجسادهم، واندفعت منهم الدماء، ولكن لم يكن هناك صوت، ولا من يجيب. البعل طلب ألمًا، لكنه لم يُرسل نارًا. السماء بقيت صامتة.

ثم اقترب إيليا وأصلح مذبح الرب المُهدم باستخدام اثني عشر حجرًا—حجرًا لكل سبط من أسباط إسرائيل المرتبطة بالعهد. بلّل الذبيحة والخشب والساحة المحيطة بالماء. ثم صلّى:

“أيها الرب، إله إبراهيم وإسحاق وإسرائيل، ليُعلَم اليوم أنك أنت الله في إسرائيل”

(1 ملوك 18:36، الترجمة الموسعة)

وسقطت النار من السماء.

التهمت الذبيحة.

والحجارة.

والتراب.

والماء.

وسقط الشعب على وجوههم وصرخوا:

“الرب هو الله! الرب هو الله!”

(الآية 39)

لقد شُفي التردد بالنار المقدسة. وعادت رقصة العهد إلى مكانها الصحيح.

نفس الخيار يواجهنا اليوم

مثل إسرائيل القديمة، يتردد جيلنا. نتلاعب مع أصنام العصر—الذات، القوة، اللذة، المال—بينما ندّعي أننا في عهد مع إل شداي. مذبح الإيمان القومي مكسور. والمطر انقطع. ومع ذلك، نتساءل لماذا لا تسقط النار بعد الآن.

إن الرب يسأل من جديد:

إلى متى ستتردد؟

إلى متى ستمسك يدك بالبعل وأخرى في السماء؟

إلى متى ستنتظر نارًا، بينما مذبحك ما زال مهدمًا؟

حقيقة الله ثابتة:

“اختاروا اليوم من تعبدون”

(يشوع 24:15، الترجمة الموسعة)

لا يوجد ملاذ في الحياد. رقصة الفصح تقدم حرية وحياة. أما تردد الأصنام، فيقود إلى عبودية وموت.

تمسك بالإيمان – وابنِ المذبح

كلمة pasach تعود لتواجهنا. هل سنبقى نترنح بين الولاءات؟ أم سندخل بالكامل في عهد الرب؟

إن الإله الذي يجيب بالنار لا يزال يجيب.

لكن فقط عندما يكون المذبح كاملاً.

فقط عندما تكون التقدمة مبللة بالتسليم.

فقط عندما يكون القلب مكشوفًا أمامه.

صلِّ مع داود:

“قلبًا نقيًا اخلق فيّ يا الله، وروحًا مستقيمًا جدد في داخلي.”

(مزمور 51:10، الترجمة الموسعة)

دع التوبة تزيل الأنقاض.

دع الطاعة تضع الحجارة من جديد.

دع الشفاعة تبلل الذبيحة.

وحينها ستسقط النار مرة أخرى.

صلاة من أجل التجديد

يا أبانا،

نعترف بقلوبنا المترددة.

لقد رقصنا مع الأصنام بينما دعوتنا للسير معك.

اغفر ترددنا.

طهر ميولنا.

رمم المذبح المحطم في داخلنا.

أسكب مطر البرّ على أرضنا العطشى.

دع نار روحك تحرق كل عبادة زائفة.

أحيينا في حقك.

واجعلنا، مثل إيليا، نعلن بثقة مقدسة:

الرب هو الله!

نصلي هذا باسم يشوعا، فصحنا المذبوح. آمين.

لا تنتظر النار لتسقط على مذبح غيرك.

ابنِ مذبحك.

اليوم.

في هذه اللحظة.

عد إلى الرقصة. ابنِ المذبح. ودع النار تسقط.

Prayers

Let the Oil Flow: A Cry for Radical Transformation

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Lord of Hosts, El Shaddai, You are holy and faithful. I come before You broken yet hopeful, asking for radical heart transformation; let the oil flow. “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10, NASB). Strip away the sin that clings so closely, burn every impurity, and breathe new life into the ashes. “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you” (Ezekiel 36:26, NASB).

By Your Spirit grant strength, self-control, and perseverance so that I may run to win; let the oil flow. “Since we have so great a cloud of witnesses… let us run with endurance the race set before us” (Hebrews 12:1, NASB). Quench my thirst with living water—“whoever drinks of the water that I will give him shall never thirst” (John 4:14, NASB). Saturate the parched ground of my soul until every root drinks deep of Your grace. You empower the weak and renew the weary, and I trust You to finish what You have begun.

Do not allow my past or present failures to silence the testimony of Your love; let the oil flow. Where the adversary plotted harm, You are the Redeemer who turns it to good. “God causes all things to work together for good to those who love Him” (Romans 8:28, NASB). Make every scar a signpost of mercy and every weakness a doorway for Your strength. Send fresh anointing so that my words and deeds draw the lost to Yeshua.

Teach me to live as continual prayer, breathing praise with every heartbeat. You are the One who calls and the One who completes—“Faithful is He who calls you, and He also will bring it to pass” (1 Thessalonians 5:24, NASB). Less of me, more of You; flood every corner of my life until only Your light remains. In the mighty name of Yeshua, let the oil flow. Amen.

Service

The Pulse of the Kingdom

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Serving as the Lifeblood of the Body

Beloved, hear what the Spirit says to the Body: If serving is not flowing through you, then the heartbeat of the Kingdom is not in you. Let us examine ourselves—not to despair, but to return quickly to His side. It does not matter what we build, what we declare, or how loudly we sing—if the blood of the Lamb is in us, then the love of the Lamb must flow out of us. Serving as the pulse of the Kingdom is not a ministry—it is identity. It is not an action—it is a manifestation of union with Messiah.

“By this all people will know that you are My disciples: if you have love for one another.” — John 13:35, NASB

We cannot be in Him and remain unmoved by need. We cannot abide in the Vine and bear no fruit. The moment the pulse stops, the Body collapses. So it is with every soul that ceases to serve. God is love. And love serves. This truth is not seasonal. It is eternal. It flows from the throne of God like a river, and wherever that river flows, it gives life.

Serving in love and humility

A Servant King Rules the Kingdom

The Kingdom has a King—and He is not seated on a throne demanding honor. He is robed in humility, kneeling with a towel. Yeshua, Son of the Living God, stooped to wash feet not once but forever. And all who walk with Him will take the basin and follow. The true glory of God is revealed in this: He serves.

“If I, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.” — John 13:14, NASB

There is no crown without a cross, and there is no greatness without service. In the Kingdom, the lowest place is the nearest place to God. We descend to ascend. We give all to gain Him. If you have truly seen His face, you will long to pour yourself out for others. You will not ask, “Should I serve?” You will cry, “How can I love Him more?”

The Pulse Does Not Stop

Serving as the pulse of the Kingdom means it cannot be occasional. You cannot schedule a heartbeat. You cannot decide when it flows. This is why true service must be born of the Spirit—not pressure, not pride, not position. Only intimacy sustains the pulse.

“The love of Christ controls us, having concluded this, that one died for all…so that those who live would no longer live for themselves.” — 2 Corinthians 5:14-15, NASB

When you walk with the Servant-King, His love compels you. It moves in you like blood, pulsing life into the Church. It nourishes the Body. It warms cold hearts. It revives what religion has dried out. It finds the feet no one else will touch. It carries burdens no one else will see. Beloved, this is not a burden—it is the joy of those who dwell in Him.

The Church Lives When It Bleeds Love

The Church does not thrive by strategy or spectacle. She lives when she bleeds. Not with empty effort, but with the precious pulse of Heaven flowing through her members. When each one gives, when each one moves with the rhythm of the Spirit, the Body becomes radiant and whole.

“From Him the whole body…causes the growth of the body for the building up of itself in love.” — Ephesians 4:16, NASB

You were not redeemed to rest in apathy—but to rest in Him, and rise in love. You were redeemed to rise and serve. He did not rescue you so you could observe—He saved you so that His life would become your own. This is not religion. This is resurrection. This is what it means to carry the pulse of the Kingdom within your chest.

We Are People of the Blood and the Basin

Do you not know? The blood that saved you is the same blood that calls you. He poured out everything—now He invites you to do the same. We are not people who admire the cross; we are people who take it up daily. We are not servants once—we are servants always.

Serving as the pulse of the Kingdom means we do not need recognition. We do not need applause. We only need Him. He is our portion. And if He stooped low, we will stoop lower still. The towel is not a lesser ministry. It is the ministry of Heaven. When we serve, we bear His likeness.

Flow through me, O pulse of grace, where mercy must be born—
Let every beat I offer serve the lost, the crushed, the torn.
If You have knelt, then so will I, until I see Your face—
And lift the low with nail-scarred hands, sustained by sacred pace.

The pulse of Heaven beats with love, and those who walk with Him cannot help but move.

Prayer

O Yeshua, Servant and King, awaken our hearts again to the holy call to serve. Forgive us when we have made worship about sound but not sacrifice. Let Your pulse be felt in us again—strong, steady, unstoppable. Make us people who wash feet in secret, who carry burdens with joy, and who serve not from duty but from love. Strip us of pride. Fill us with fire. Until Your whole Body lives and breathes and moves in the power of love. In Your holy Name, amen.

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See Also

Devotion to God

The Savior and the Kingdom 

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Rejoicing in the One Who Saves

“For today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”
— Luke 2:11, NASB

We rejoice because we have a Savior—not a concept, not a symbol, but a Person: Yeshua, the Son of the Living God. He did not come to condemn the world, but to save it (John 3:17). He entered into time, took on flesh, and came for you. Let that truth sink in. Before you ever sought Him, He came seeking and saving the lost (Luke 19:10). Indeed, we find true joy when rejoicing in the Savior.

Throughout Scripture, this mission of salvation is declared, echoed, and fulfilled. From the angel’s announcement to Joseph (“He will save His people from their sins,” Matthew 1:21), to the bold declarations of Paul (“Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,” 1 Timothy 1:15), the heart of heaven beats with one glorious theme: rescue. This is not temporary relief. This is eternal transformation, a transformation that evokes rejoicing in the Savior’s redemption.

“But rejoice that your names are recorded in heaven.”
— Luke 10:20, NASB

The reason for our rejoicing is not in signs, wonders, or works—but in the assurance of our salvation. Heaven knows your name. The Son has brought you near. You were once far off, an enemy of God by sin and nature. But now, through Yeshua’s blood, you are reconciled (Romans 5:10). When we are reconciled, we embrace rejoicing in the Savior, who holds our future secure in the Father’s house, where many rooms await (John 14:2).

You don’t merely survive this life—you belong to another Kingdom. “Our citizenship is in heaven,” Paul wrote (Philippians 3:20). You are not waiting for escape—you are waiting for the King. And when He appears, He brings reward (Matthew 6:1), inheritance (1 Peter 1:4), and the restoration of all things (Romans 11:26).

“He is also able to save forever those who come to God through Him.”
— Hebrews 7:25, NASB

The salvation Yeshua offers is not a one-time transaction—it is eternal, active, and ongoing. He not only saved you—He keeps you. He not only forgave your sin—He intercedes for you now (Hebrews 7:25). He is the Good Shepherd who carries you when you are weak. He is the Head of the Body (Ephesians 5:23), the One in whom all the promises of God find their yes (2 Corinthians 1:20). His grace sustains, His mercy restores, and His Spirit empowers you daily.

Walking in reverent surrender as the Spirit leads, bathed in the light of His presence.

Even now, as you read these words, He is drawing you deeper—into trust, into holiness, into love. Because this is not only about being saved from something—it is about being saved for something: for communion, for glory, for everlasting joy in Him.

“Grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”
— 2 Peter 3:18, NASB

So how do we respond? By growing in grace. By letting go of hollow religion and pressing into the Person of Christ. He is not a distant figure from ancient texts—He is your Savior today. And He invites you to grow in Him, to walk by the Spirit, to rejoice in the hope of glory, rejoicing continually in the Savior’s presence and his promise never to leave or forsake us.

This world will fade, but the name of Jesus will never fade. Nations rise and fall, but “the Savior of the world” (1 John 4:14) reigns forever. You are not alone. You are not forgotten. You are redeemed.

O Savior King, the skies declare
The mercy seated in Your stare.
You lift the poor, You heal the shame,
And heaven knows Your holy Name.
My joy is not in what I do,
But in the One who carries through.

Prayer

Father, thank You for sending Yeshua—my Savior, my Lord, my King. I rejoice that my name is written in heaven. Let me never grow numb to the miracle of Your mercy. Grow me in grace, anchor me in truth, and set my feet firm in the hope of salvation. Keep me close. Teach me to rejoice not just in blessings, but in Your presence alone. Yeshua be glorified in me today. Amen.

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See Also

Holy Spirit, Power

Fire Shut Up in My Bones

A Holy Fire That Cannot Be Contained

Beloved, there is a fire that does not come from man. It cannot be stirred up by music or forced by emotion. It descends from heaven. It rests on those who tremble at the Word. It burns in the soul of those who have seen the face of God and cannot remain silent. It is the fire shut up in the bones.

The prophet Jeremiah cried out in anguish, “But if I say, ‘I will not remember Him or speak anymore in His name,’ then my heart becomes a burning fire shut up in my bones; and I am tired of holding it in, and I cannot endure it” (Jeremiah 20:9, NASB). This was not the complaint of a man seeking attention. This was the groan of one possessed by the Word of the Lord. The message was not something he carried—it carried him.

When the Spirit of God dwells in you, He does not come to sit quietly. He comes with flame. He comes with weight. He is not an accessory to your life—He is your life. “In Him we live and move and exist” (Acts 17:28, NASB). If He does not breathe into us, we are dust. If He does not speak, we are lost. If He does not move, we are powerless. We are utterly dependent on Him for all things.

This holy fire reveals our nothingness apart from Him and fills us with the fullness of His presence. And oh, the joy of knowing we are His! Not because we are strong, but because He is faithful. Not because we are worthy, but because He is rich in mercy.

The Power of the Word

And when that fire takes hold of you, you cannot help but overflow.

Like David, who cried, “My heart was hot within me, while I was musing the fire burned; then I spoke with my tongue” (Psalm 39:3, NASB), you will not contain the praise. The praise will contain you. Like the apostles, who declared, “We cannot stop speaking about what we have seen and heard” (Acts 4:20, NASB), your life will become a living testimony. Not because you try to evangelize—but because the flame in you draws the cold and the broken near.

Unbelievers will be pulled by the light. They will ask, “What is this joy that burns in you? What is this peace that does not flicker? What is this love that consumes fear?” And you will tell them: It is Yeshua, the Lamb who was slain and now reigns in glory. He set me ablaze. He is my fire, my breath, my song.

This fire is not a passing feeling. It is not a temporary high. It is the mark of those who have been with Jesus. It is the seal of those who are crucified with Him and yet live—not they themselves, but Messiah in them. (Galatians 2:20)

When God sets you on fire, you will burn with love that intercedes, with truth that pierces, and with mercy that welcomes. You will long not only to dwell in the secret place but to call others into it. The fire in your bones is not only for you—it is for the nations.

And that fire will not be quenched. The more you give, the more He fills. The more you pour, the more you overflow. And what you cannot contain becomes your witness. It becomes your worship. It becomes the sound of heaven through a yielded vessel.

So cry out if you must. Shout if you must. Dance if you must. Let the fire speak. Let it be said of you, “This one burns for God.”

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You lit a fire I cannot still,
It burns through flesh and breaks my will.
It roars with love and speaks Your name—
Until the world beholds Your flame.

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Closing Prayer:

Yeshua, You alone are life. I have no breath apart from You. No strength. No hope. No light. Set me ablaze with holy fire, that my bones may not rest until You are glorified in all the earth. Let the overflow of Your Spirit in me draw the lost, heal the broken, and exalt Your name. I lay myself at Your feet in total dependence—consume me with Your presence. In the name of the Risen One, amen.

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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.

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).

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

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

Holy Spirit

Boldness in the Presence of God

A Call to the Fearless

This word was born last night at the Pray West Boylston prayer meeting at Freedom Worship Center, and was sparked in part by a message two Sundays ago by Samuel Maisonet, formerly of Faith Church in Auburn. It is a word for now — for you, beloved of God.

The world trembles at the sound of danger. Men pray for safety; hearts seek shelter. But I write to you, beloved, that you would not pray as the world prays. You are called higher. You are summoned to boldness in the presence of God.

When the early Church faced threats — real threats of death and imprisonment — they did not plead for protection. They did not beg to be hidden. They lifted their voices and cried:

“And now, Lord, take note of their threats, and grant that Your bond-servants may speak Your word with all confidence.” — Acts 4:29 (NASB)

The ground beneath them shook. Heaven answered with fire. They were filled again with the Holy Spirit. They spoke the Word of God with boldness, not fear.

But boldness is not born of flesh. It is born in the presence of God.

Come and see the prophet Isaiah. He was drawn up to the heights of heaven, where the Lord sat enthroned, high and lifted up. Seraphim circled and cried:

“Holy, Holy, Holy is the LORD of armies, The whole earth is full of His glory.” — Isaiah 6:3 (NASB)

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

Isaiah fell on his face:

“Woe to me, for I am ruined! Because I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of armies.” — Isaiah 6:5 (NASB)

The fire of God touched him. His guilt was taken away. His sin was atoned for. Then — only then — did he hear the voice of the Lord:

“Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?” — Isaiah 6:8 (NASB)

Return to the Lord in brokenness

Beloved, Isaiah did not hesitate. His heart, once trembling, now burned. He answered:

“Here am I. Send me!” — Isaiah 6:8 (NASB)

This is the secret: Boldness comes after brokenness. Confidence is born from cleansing. You cannot stand fearless before men until you have bowed low before God.

Boldness in the presence of God is not arrogance — it is holiness on fire. It is the soul washed clean by the blood of Yeshua, the lips purified by His mercy, the heart inflamed by His Spirit. It is the Church, shaken but unshaken. It is the believer, trembling but bold.

And understand this: When God speaks, His command is often 180 degrees opposite to human logic. Where we would pray for protection, He calls us to pray for boldness. Where we would build walls, He calls us to tear them down with His love. His ways are not our ways — they are higher.

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,” declares the LORD. — Isaiah 55:8 (NASB)

“Whoever wants to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.” — Matthew 16:25 (NASB)

Boldness is not reckless noise; it is love in motion. Last night, the Spirit whispered a deeper truth: it is not only God’s love that draws people — it is God’s love in us. The world will not be won by arguments or anger, but by a bold, visible love that cannot be denied. The true disciple goes out in love and shines. They see Yeshua in us.

As the song “Send Me” by Bethel Music so beautifully sings:

“And before You even ask, oh my answer will be yes.”

This is the posture of boldness: a surrendered yes before the question is even asked.

Will you not come? Will you not enter the presence of the Most High? Will you not fall before Him and be made new?

Do not pray merely for safety. Pray for boldness.
Do not ask merely for comfort. Ask to be sent.
Do not walk in mere knowledge. Walk in love.

The Lord is asking even now:

“Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?”

Let the cry rise from your cleansed lips:

“Here am I. Send me!”

The world is waiting for the fearless.
The lost are waiting for the loved.
Heaven is waiting for the willing.
The Lord of Glory is waiting for you.

From trembling knees to lion’s roar,
You lift my voice to heights unknown.
In fire and cloud, You speak once more —
The King of Glory claims His own.

Closing Prayer

O Holy Father, El Shaddai,

I come trembling before Your throne. Cleanse my heart with Your holy fire; purify my lips with Your coal. Let every fear be burned away by Your presence. Let every weakness be clothed in Your strength.

Fill me, O Lord, with the power of Your Spirit. Let boldness rise where once there was fear. Let Your love overflow from my heart. Let my voice proclaim the name of Yeshua without shrinking back. Grant me the courage to answer when You call, to stand firm when others fall away, to speak when silence tempts me.

Here I am, Lord — send me.
Here I am, Lord — fill me.
Here I am, Lord — use me for Your glory.

In the mighty name of Yeshua, the King of kings,

Amen.

See Also

Faith, Prayers

Prayer & Faith in Action

Walking in New Testament Balance

There is a divine tension in the Christian life between prayer and action. Some say faith waits; others say faith moves. Yet, the New Testament reveals that prayer & faith in action are inseparable. They are two sides of the same coin, each breathing life into the other.

The Foundation of Prayer

From the lips of Yeshua Himself, we hear, “Keep watching and praying, so that you do not come into temptation” (Matthew 26:41, NASB). Prayer is not optional; it is essential. The early Church understood this, as they “were continually devoting themselves with one mind to prayer” (Acts 1:14, NASB). Prayer was the bedrock on which their actions were built.

Yet, prayer alone was not the end. After prayer, Peter stood up (Acts 1:15, NASB) and began to lead. Prayer birthed boldness. The fire of Pentecost fell after ten days of prayer, and it propelled the apostles into the streets with power.

The Call to Action

Paul, the tireless apostle, embodies this balance. He declared he prayed without ceasing (1 Thessalonians 5:17, NASB), but he also traveled extensively, planted churches, and suffered hardship for the Gospel. His life shows us that prayer & faith in action is not about choosing one or the other. It is about combining them in obedience to God.

James speaks plainly: “Faith, if it has no works, is dead, being by itself” (James 2:17, NASB). Yet, he also exalts prayer: “The effective prayer of a righteous man can accomplish much”(James 5:16, NASB). Prayer fuels action; action gives purpose to prayer.

The Example of Yeshua

Yeshua modeled this divine balance perfectly. He often withdrew to pray (Luke 5:16, NASB), seeking intimacy with the Father. Yet, He also proclaimed, “We must carry out the works of Him who sent Me as long as it is day” (John 9:4, NASB).

In Gethsemane, He fought the fiercest battle on His knees, His sweat falling like drops of blood. Afterward, He rose, faced His accusers, and embraced the Cross with unwavering resolve. Prayer & faith in action are perfectly displayed in His life.

The Call for Today

For the believer today, the call is clear: we must pray without ceasing (1 Thessalonians 5:17, NASB) and abound in the work of the Lord (1 Corinthians 15:58, NASB). Without prayer, our work becomes human striving. Without action, our prayers become empty rituals.

Prayer & faith in action must be woven into the fabric of our lives. We are called to be people who know the secret place and the marketplace, those who are found on their knees and on their feet.

Conclusion

Let us kneel before God until we are consumed with His holy fire, and then rise to carry that fire to the world. Let us be those who blend prayer & faith in action into one seamless act of worship, living testimonies of a faith that works and a work that prays.

Prayer

O Yeshua, teach us the balance of prayer and action. Let us wait until You speak, and run when You call. Birth in us deep dependence in the secret place, and fierce obedience in the public square. May our prayers fuel our feet, and our feet give glory to Your Name. For Yours is the Kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.

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See Also