All posts by warren

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

Break the Box

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Return to Me

To My Church, whom I purchased with My own blood:

I love you.
With a love stronger than death.
I have never left you. Even when you built without Me, I remained near.
Even when you organized Me out, I stood at the door and waited.
I have watched every gathering, every song, every schedule.
I know your labor, your love for the lost, your good intentions.
I have seen your heart—and I love you still.

But now I speak—not just in comfort, but in clarity.

You have boxed Me in.

You have created systems to keep things safe.
You have guarded the order, protected the time of leadership, and honed the rhythms of ministry until they flow without Me.

You pray for Me to move, but only in ways that match what you’ve built.
You ask for wisdom, but filter My answer through the language of your traditions.
You hunger for revival, but only if it comes wrapped in the familiar.

Beloved, I cannot be reduced. I will not be managed.
You were made for My presence, not just My principles.
You were born of fire. But now you settle for form.

And when I send someone—one carrying the water you cried for—they are met with silence.
They do not want position.
They did not come to join your program.
They came bearing My Word.
Yet you say:
“Already saved, not here to join, no place here.”

So they pretend to be visitors just to receive attention,
because if they don’t fit your structure, your defenses rise to protect your flow.

And I weep.

Not in anger, but in grief—because I came to you through them, and you did not recognize Me.

But even now, I speak as a Father: Break the Box.

Tear down what you’ve built in your own strength.
Not all of it must go—but all of it must bow.

Welcome again the voice of the Shepherd.
Welcome the messengers I send, even when they do not wear your badge.
Welcome the apostolic voice that rebuilds from ruins.
Welcome the prophetic cry that stirs holy discomfort.
Welcome the evangelistic fire that won’t settle for numbers.
Welcome the pastoral heart that bleeds for healing, not performance.
Welcome the teaching wellspring that flows from Spirit and truth.

Let the fivefold gifts not compete, but complete one another—for the building up of My Body in love.

You say, “But Lord, we only wanted to do things decently and in order.”
I reply: My order begins with Me at the center, not on the sidelines.

You say, “But this is what worked in the past.”
I reply: I am doing a new thing. Will you perceive it?

You say, “But we are still preaching the Word.”
I reply: You quote Me, but do you wait for Me?

Beloved, this is not My anger.
This is My jealous love.
I will not let you drift into lifeless motion when I died to give you abundant life.
I will not allow My Bride to settle for form when she was made for flame.

So I stand outside.
I knock.
I wait.
And I whisper: “Let Me in again.”

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in…” (Revelation 3:20, NASB)

Break the box. Open the door. I’m still here.

I love you too much to leave you as you are.

Signed,
The One who walks among the lampstands,
who calls you by name, and who will finish what He began in you.

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Return

Answering Christ’s Call

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A Word for the Weary Soul

Have you been crying out in silence, scrolling through stories that feel too much like your own? You may wonder if God hears you, if He sees your aching heart, your anxious thoughts, your shattered dreams. You may feel disqualified by your past, unsure of your future, or left out when others speak of joy and peace in Christ. But today, know this: God is calling you. And He’s not calling the perfect—He’s calling the willing.

Answering Christ’s Call isn’t about cleaning yourself up before stepping forward. It’s about saying yes, right where you are, and letting the love of Yeshua break every chain and begin something new.

A New Foundation for the Broken

Many people live under the rubble of past choices—relationships that left scars, addictions that linger, guilt that never quite leaves. You might be one of them. But Jesus doesn’t step around rubble; He rebuilds with it. “No one can lay a foundation other than the one which is laid, which is Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 3:11, NASB). He alone can make all things new.

Answering Christ’s Call means stepping onto solid ground—even if your legs are trembling. When everything else has collapsed, His Word and His presence will remain. Let Him lay a foundation in your life that can’t be shaken.

Dry Bones, Holy Fire
In the valley of dry bones, under a sky of fire, the Breath of God begins to stir—awakening what once was dead to live again in holiness and power.

Hope That Sees Beyond the Valley

For those walking through depression, spiritual apathy, or silent seasons of confusion—know that God is not silent. Even when you can’t feel Him, He is near. “Behold, I am going to do something new, now it will spring up; will you not be aware of it?” (Isaiah 43:19, NASB).

Sometimes, what feels like silence is really preparation. He is planting seeds you cannot see, whispering hope in the dark corners of your heart. Answering Christ’s Call is about trusting that the One who started a good work in you will complete it. Your story is not finished.

Good News for the Guilty and the Shamed

You might believe you’re too far gone—that your mistakes, your tattoos, your medication bottles, or the weight of your past disqualify you from God’s love. But the Gospel was never for the spotless. It was for the desperate.

“Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1, NASB). Not less condemnation. None. Zero. The door is still open. The Cross is still enough. And Jesus is still calling your name. Answering Christ’s Call means running toward mercy that never runs out.

Walking Faithfully with God
Hand in hand with the Savior, the path is never lonely — every step is guided by His love and presence.

A Gentle Hand for the Anxious Heart

There are moments when fear feels louder than faith. Fear of rejection, fear of deliverance, fear of being exposed. You are not alone. “He will tend His flock like a shepherd; He will gather the lambs in His arms and carry them close to His heart” (Isaiah 40:11, NASB).

God’s love is not harsh. It does not shove. It draws. And it is drawing you now—not to perform, but to be held. Answering Christ’s Call is not about striving; it’s about surrendering. You are safe in His hands.

Truth That Leads You Home

You’ve seen others talk about hearing God or feeling His nearness, and you wonder, “Why not me?” The truth is, relationship with God grows like any other—over time, with trust, through His Word. “So faith comes from hearing, and hearing by the word of Christ” (Romans 10:17, NASB).

Spend time in Scripture, not to earn favor, but to hear His heart. Turn off the noise. Wait in the stillness. Ask Him to speak, and expect that He will. Answering Christ’s Call means leaning in until His whisper becomes your anchor.

O Shepherd of dawn, awaken my night,
Plant olive hope where deserts lie dry.
Your word a lamp, Your breath my song,
I rise in faith—Your love is strong.

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

The Moment to Say Yes

Picture a trumpet sounding through the hills of your soul. The King is calling. The time for hesitation has passed. Your questions, your fears, your sins—they don’t scare Him. He is still the One who leaves the ninety-nine to find the one. You are the one.

Now is the time to stop merely searching and start surrendering. Let the scroll end with your hands lifted. Answering Christ’s Call begins with a whisper: “Here I am, Lord. I’m Yours.”

A Prayer to Begin Again

Abba Father,

You see every heart that aches, every soul that longs for more. You do not turn away the broken or ashamed. You welcome them. I pray now for the one reading: draw them by Your Spirit. Wrap them in mercy. Build something holy in their life. Let Your Word speak louder than the lies. Let Your love become the fire in their bones.

Amen.

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Joy

Inexpressible Joy in Christ

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Finding Glorious Delight in Unseen Fellowship

“Though you have not seen Him, you love Him; and though you do not see Him now, but believe in Him, you greatly rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory.”
—1 Peter 1:8 (NASB)

Inexpressible joy in Christ is the fruit of a heart anchored in heaven while walking through earth’s sorrows. It is not fragile, nor is it fleeting—it is the Spirit-filled delight of a believer whose eyes are set not on what is seen, but on the One who is unseen, yet ever near. The Apostle Peter spoke this over persecuted saints who clung to the promises of Yeshua, rejoicing in the very midst of trials. This joy cannot be manufactured by willpower. It is born of faith, sustained by grace, and made radiant by the presence of the Holy Spirit.

Joy That Endures Trials

How can we rejoice in what we do not see? The answer is found in the resurrection power of Christ. Peter had earlier declared, “He has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead” (1 Peter 1:3, NASB). That hope is alive—it breathes through our joy.

James exhorts believers, “Consider it all joy, my brothers and sisters, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance” (James 1:2–3, NASB). Trials become the backdrop for our joy, not the barrier. The Spirit of the living God transforms suffering into sanctification, drawing us nearer to the heart of our unseen Savior.

Paul and Silas, bruised and bound in the Philippian jail, lifted up songs in the midnight hour (Acts 16:25). Joy in Christ did not flee in pain—it bloomed. This same joy testifies that our Redeemer lives and reigns, even when the chains rattle.

A Joy Anchored in the Holy Spirit

“The kingdom of God is not eating and drinking, but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.”
—Romans 14:17 (NASB)

Inexpressible joy in Christ is a kingdom reality. It is not just an emotion, but a divine atmosphere. The Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Comforter, imparts this joy to every believer. Like oil from Aaron’s beard, joy flows downward from the throne, saturating the Body of Christ.

The prophet Jeremiah wrote, “Your words became for me a joy and the delight of my heart” (Jeremiah 15:16, NASB). When the Word of God enters a heart lit by the Spirit, joy is inevitable. The timid woman who reached out to touch Yeshua’s robe (Luke 8:43–48) did not find only healing—she found joy. The woman caught in adultery who heard, “Neither do I condemn you” (John 8:11), tasted the joy of mercy. The little children He welcomed were not just accepted—they were delighted in.

So we cry with the saints of old:

Don’t send Moses—he broke the tablets.
Don’t send Elijah—he called down fire.
Don’t send Paul—he is too learned.
Oh Lord Jesus, come Yourself!

We are not afraid of You. You are gentle and lowly. You are our joy.

The Fellowship of Joy in the Body

Joy is never meant to be hoarded. “Behold, how good and pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together in unity!” (Psalm 133:1). The corporate fellowship of believers is one of the richest places where joy grows. The early Church “ate their food with gladness and simplicity of heart” (Acts 2:46). Where hearts are pure and Christ is exalted, joy multiplies.

Isaiah prophesied, “With joy you will draw water from the springs of salvation” (Isaiah 12:3, NASB). This drawing happens in prayer meetings, in shared testimonies, in congregational worship. We sing the songs of Zion because we belong to Zion. Our homeland is not here, and our joy is a prophetic sign that we are citizens of a better country (Hebrews 11:16).

Joy dances on Zion’s hills,
Morning dew upon the cedars glistens.
The faithful lift their eyes to Him,
And sorrow flees before His presence.
Shout, O gates—let the King of Joy come in!

Living Joyfully While Longing for His Return

Our joy today does not erase our longing for tomorrow. “I go to prepare a place for you… I will come again and receive you to Myself” (John 14:2–3, NASB). This is not fantasy—it is the heartbeat of our hope. We do not fear the day of the Lord’s return. We yearn for it. The Bride cries out, “Even so, come, Lord Jesus!” (Revelation 22:20).

Until that day, we sing. We serve. We shine. And through it all, our joy becomes our testimony. The world will ask, “What is the source of your delight?” and we will answer boldly: “We are redeemed by the blood of the Lamb. Our yesterdays are under the blood, never to be remembered again. God is our Father, Christ is our Brother, and the Spirit is our Comforter.”

This is our joy. This is our song. This is our testimony to a watching world.

Prayer

O Father, thank You for joy that cannot be taken, joy rooted in the love of Christ and poured out by the Spirit. We bless You for salvation, for hope, and for the delight of Your nearness. May this inexpressible joy in Christ be a living witness to all who see us, drawing them to Your heart. Even so, come, Lord Jesus—our joy and our crown. Amen.

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Devotion to God

Citizens of Heaven Doing Good

“Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.” (Galatians 6:10, NASB)

Beloved, lift your eyes beyond the press of daily duties and behold your true homeland. You are citizens of a Kingdom that cannot be shaken, yet God has stationed you on earth as living witnesses. The apostle Paul reminds us that our “citizenship is in heaven” (Philippians 3:20), and Peter calls us “aliens and strangers” (1 Peter 2:11). That identity compels our mission: Citizens of Heaven Doing Good. Every act of love broadcasts the language of Zion to a world that has forgotten its Maker.

Pilgrims never travel alone. El Shaddai has woven us into a family whose bond is deeper than blood. Through the new birth we “become partakers of the divine nature” (2 Peter 1:4), receiving the Spirit who cries, “Abba, Father.” In exile we discover each other—brothers and sisters drawn by the same light, singing the same ancient songs. Our unity is not sentiment; it is Christ Himself dwelling within. When we gather, His presence saturates our fellowship, and the watching world glimpses heaven’s culture.

The Bible paints the church as an outpost of glory. God indwells His people; Christ walks among His lampstands; the Holy Spirit ignites every heart (Revelation 2:1). Together we open Scripture, our shared constitution, and its commands become our native tongue. Psalm 133:1 declares, “How good and pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together in unity.” Here, Citizens of Heaven Doing Good cultivate holy harmony. We pray, worship, and break bread, not as a ritual but as a living encounter with Yeshua, the risen King.

Picture a band of travelers stranded in a foreign land. They establish an embassy, flying their homeland’s banner and offering aid to locals in distress. So also the church: we erect altars of mercy in deserts of despair. James challenges us, “If a brother or sister is without clothing and in need of daily food… what use is that faith if we do not help?” (James 2:15-17). Love unproven is no love at all. Therefore, seize each opportunity—small chores, hidden kindnesses, generous gifts—and let compassion verify the gospel.

Doing good begins at home yet spills outward. The family of believers must never become a holy clique; rather, our fellowship fuels outreach. Jesus commands, “Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works and glorify your Father” (Matthew 5:16). When we serve the widow next door, mentor the fatherless, or defend the oppressed, heaven’s accent rings clear. The key is dependence: more of Him, less of us. Apart from the Vine we wither, but abiding in Christ we bear lasting fruit (John 15:5).

Our pilgrimage is worship in motion. Every act of kindness rises like incense, every sacrifice echoes across eternity. Listen to the heartbeat of the Kingdom:

We journey on, our eyes above,
The path is narrow, bright with love;
Your Word our map, Your grace our song,
In You, O Lord, we march along.

Here is hope for weary travelers: God supplies “everything pertaining to life and godliness” (2 Peter 1:3). He pours living water into cracked vessels, then pours us out for others. The Spirit empowers the shy to speak, the weak to lift, the wounded to heal. In serving, we taste His glory now, a foretaste of the feast to come.

Will you, dear reader, embrace your mantle as Citizens of Heaven Doing Good? Look for the next person in need—perhaps sitting across your dinner table, standing beside your cubicle, or resting on a hospital bed. Offer what you have: a prayer, a meal, a listening ear, a gift. In that moment the border between earth and heaven blurs, and the life of Christ pulses through you.

Prayer

Abba Father, plant me like an olive tree in Your courts, rooted deep in Your steadfast love. Fill me afresh with the Holy Spirit, that I may overflow with good works that reflect Your heart. Let my hands become Yours, my words echo Your truth, my life display Your Kingdom. May every kindness sow a seed of revival, and may Your Son receive the glory forever. In Yeshua’s mighty name, amen.

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Service

The Pulse of the Kingdom

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

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

Weakness

The Wounded Walk and the Whole Hide

True Healing Begins with Honesty

I saw it today—what felt like a living parable. A man with a pronounced limp slowly walked into a fast-food chicken place. He took no shortcuts. No complaints. No shame. Just a man, moving forward with visible pain. Right next door, someone seemingly without any visible issue stepped briskly into urgent care. No limp. No cast. But urgent nonetheless.

That moment stayed with me. The contrast between the limping man pressing on and the physically sound man seeking help revealed something deeper: we cannot judge a person’s need by what we see. The wounds we carry are not always on the surface. And those who limp into life may be the ones who’ve already learned how to survive what others still refuse to confront.

True healing begins with honesty. It doesn’t start in the absence of pain. It begins in the presence of truth.

Yeshua said, “It is not those who are healthy who need a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (Luke 5:31–32, NASB). But He spoke these words to those who didn’t believe they were sick. The religious elite, full of knowledge and empty of repentance, looked whole. But they were broken. Diseased in soul. Blind to their need.

Spiritual healing is not for those who hide—it’s for those who confess.

The Church too often reverses the Kingdom pattern. We praise those who seem put together, who never cry too loudly or falter in prayer. We misunderstand the bruised and the weary, asking them to perform rather than rest. Yet Scripture makes it plain: “Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7, NASB).

What does God see when He looks at us?

He sees the man who limps with dignity. He sees the one hiding their spiritual emergency behind a polished exterior. He sees the brokenness that doesn’t show up on x-rays. And He invites us into a greater honesty—not for shame’s sake, but for healing.

True healing begins with honesty. That’s not just a phrase—it’s the posture of those who truly encounter God. In the Gospels, it was the ones who shouted, stretched, or knelt who received healing. A blind man cried out. A woman with an issue of blood reached through the crowd. A leper ran to Him. They did not hide their condition. They brought it to Yeshua. They didn’t wait until they looked better. They came as they were.

By contrast, the Pharisees never asked for healing. They wore religious garments but were inwardly sick. They trusted their status but refused the cure. And so they missed the Savior standing in front of them.

There’s a lesson here for the Church today.

We’ve learned how to hide well. We dress for Sunday, smile at the right times, quote Scripture fluently—but do we bring our sickness to the altar? Or do we carry our limp into the week without ever laying it down before the Lord?

David prayed, “Behold, You desire truth in the innermost being, and in secret You will make wisdom known to me” (Psalm 51:6, AMP). There is wisdom in exposing what hurts. There is grace waiting on the other side of confession. God doesn’t heal what we won’t reveal.

I confess I’ve hidden before. I’ve walked into the sanctuary with a limp in my soul, pretending it wasn’t there. I’ve lifted my hands while dragging unseen chains. But pretending doesn’t heal. Only the truth sets free.

Paul wrote, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is perfected in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9, NASB). Not in strength. Not in performance. In weakness. The place where we limp is the place where His grace floods in.

So let the Church be a place where limps are not covered but welcomed. Let it be a sanctuary where spiritual urgent care doesn’t happen next door—but in the house of God itself. Let us come not as those who have it all together, but as those who need the touch of the Savior.

And let us walk—honestly. Boldly. Limping if we must.

Because true healing begins with honesty.

Prayer

O Lord,

I come to You just as I am—broken, tired, and unable to pretend anymore. I’ve walked through life hiding my wounds, but today I bring them into Your light. You see me. You know me. Nothing is hidden from You.

Forgive me for the times I’ve tried to appear strong when I should have fallen to my knees. Forgive me for running to the wrong places for healing. I confess that I’ve carried pain I didn’t bring to You and guilt I never should have worn. You said, “Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28, NASB)—and Lord, I come.

Heal what I cannot fix. Cleanse what I cannot make clean. Strengthen what I cannot carry alone. I place my trust in Your Son, Jesus Christ—my Savior, my Healer, my Lord. Thank You for the cross. Thank You for the blood that washes sin away. Thank You for rising again to offer me new life.

Let me walk forward, even if I limp, with faith that You are enough. Use even my weakness to glorify Your Name. Fill me with the Holy Spirit, and teach me to live honestly before You and before others. Not in shame—but in grace.

I give You my life, my story, and my limp.

In Jesus’ Name,

Amen.

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See Also

Devotion to God

The Savior and the Kingdom 

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 According to the Spirit
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

Holy Spirit

The Spirit’s Judgment

Walking in the Light Beyond Human Opinion

“But the one who is spiritual evaluates all things, yet he himself is evaluated by no one.” — 1 Corinthians 2:15, NASB

The man or woman filled with the Holy Spirit is governed not by the opinions of this world, but by the mind of Christ. “We have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may know the things freely given to us by God” (1 Corinthians 2:12, NASB). This Spirit-illumined life allows us to see, discern, and judge—not by fleshly instinct, but by eternal truth.

This means our worldview must be shaped not by culture or consensus, but by the Word of God applied through the Spirit of God. The Spirit’s judgment is not mere intellect—it is illumination. It is the light of the Lord causing our hearts to perceive what cannot be seen by human eyes. “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” (Psalm 119:105, NASB)

The Spiritual Man Is a Miracle

Scripture makes it clear: “The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him; and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually discerned.” (1 Corinthians 2:14, NASB) The one who walks in the Spirit is a mystery to the world. Their decisions seem odd, their standards strange. But they are living by a different wisdom—a wisdom from above. “But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peace-loving, gentle, reasonable, full of mercy and good fruits…” (James 3:17, NASB)

This is not a self-made man, but a Spirit-born one. “That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.” (John 3:6, NASB) He is a stranger to the world because he has been made new—“Therefore if anyone is in Christ, this person is a new creation; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17, NASB)

Beyond the Veil, at the Feet of Jesus

We cannot walk in the Spirit’s judgment unless we press beyond the veil into intimacy with God. The old man cannot enter there. “Who may ascend onto the hill of the Lord? And who may stand in His holy place? One who has clean hands and a pure heart…” (Psalm 24:3–4, NASB)

There, in the secret place, the Spirit teaches us. “But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things…” (John 14:26, NASB). We begin to see people, situations, even our own hearts with fresh clarity. The Spirit’s judgment gives us God’s perspective. “For the Lord does not see as man sees, since man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7, NASB)

The Warning and the Comfort

Some wrestle with deep fear—“Have I committed the unpardonable sin?” Yeshua warned the Pharisees in Mark 3:29 that “whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit never has forgiveness.” But what marked them? Hardness. Pride. A refusal to acknowledge the work of God. Their eyes were blind, their hearts cold.

If you tremble, if you weep, if you worry—that very fear is proof that the Spirit is still working in you. “A broken and a contrite heart, God, You will not despise.” (Psalm 51:17, NASB) Conviction is a gift; apathy is the danger. As Hebrews reminds us, “Today, if you hear His voice, do not harden your hearts…” (Hebrews 3:15, NASB)

The Spirit doesn’t come to condemn the believer, but to correct, lead, and restore. “For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but so that the world might be saved through Him.” (John 3:17, NASB) If you are convicted of sin, rejoice: God is still drawing you. Run to Him.

The world may speak, but I will stand,
With eyes alight by Spirit’s hand.
Their wisdom fades, their words grow dim,
For I have learned to walk with Him.

Prayer

Holy God, thank You for the Spirit who searches all things—even the deep things of You. I repent of leaning on my own understanding. Teach me to live by the Spirit’s judgment, not by what is seen, but by what You have revealed. May my life reflect heaven’s values and not earth’s applause. Let the mind of Christ dwell richly in me. Strengthen me to walk as one set apart—full of mercy, truth, and light. In the name of Yeshua, amen.

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See Also

Glory

Feet That Carry Glory

“How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news of good things!”
—Romans 10:15, NASB

This image does not merely show bare feet on scorched earth. It proclaims a holy invitation—a call to surrender all and follow the Lamb wherever He goes. These are not the feet of the comfortable. They are the feet of the commissioned, marked by dust, by obedience, and by the presence of Yeshua.

Our God stepped into flesh. Yeshua walked among us, not as a king on polished marble, but as a servant on dusty roads. The King of Glory stooped to wash feet, not to be honored, but to show us that only those who bend low will walk high in the Spirit. “If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.” —John 13:14, NASB

And then He said, “Follow Me.”

Gospel of Peace
Walking the ancient paths — feet fitted with readiness, following the call of God to go wherever He leads.

To follow Yeshua is to walk with nothing in our hands but His name. It is to live with hearts wholly emptied of pride and feet wholly yielded to His leading. The Gospel demands not partial loyalty, but full abandonment. “Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple.” —Luke 14:27, NASB

A.W. Tozer once wrote, “The only safe place for a sheep is by the side of his shepherd, because the devil does not fear sheep; he just fears the Shepherd.” That is why we walk. Not to prove ourselves, but to stay near the Shepherd. We are safe only when we are close to Him.

These feet—yours and mine—were made to carry the fire of Heaven into the wilderness of this world. But not by might, not by strategy. Only by the Holy Spirit. The apostles were not told to plan, but to wait. And when the fire fell, they walked—into danger, into persecution, into glory.

“Take nothing for your journey…” —Luke 9:3, NASB

Why? Because God alone must be our portion. Anything we carry in our strength becomes a hindrance. We are not called to carry baggage—we are called to carry the Gospel.

Do not be deceived by comfort. The road of Christ is not wide or easy. But it is holy. And He walks it first.

“Where I am, there My servant will be also.” —John 12:26, NASB

Let us walk then, not as wanderers but as witnesses. Let the dust cling to our feet as a sign of our consecration. Let every step cry out: “Not my will, but Yours be done.” For our lives are not our own—we were bought with a price. Our steps are not our own—they were ordered by the King.

This is the walk of the crucified. This is the path of the pure. This is the journey of the remnant who live by the Spirit alone.

Closing Prayer

Lord Yeshua, we abandon every comfort and every claim. We take off the sandals of pride and place our feet into the dust where You walked. Lead us where You will. Be our only strength. Be our only aim. We trust in nothing but You. Teach us to walk by the Spirit, with eyes fixed on Your glory and hearts completely Yours. Amen.

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See Also