Psalms 91:1 He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall rest under the shadow of the Almighty. 2 I will say of Jehovah, my refuge and my fortress; my God; in Him I will trust. 7 A thousand shall fall at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand; it shall not come near you. 15 He shall call on Me, and I will answer Him; I will be with Him in trouble; I will deliver Him, and honor Him. 16 With long life I will satisfy him, and show him My salvation (Yeshua).
A beachhead is the first critical objective in a military invasion–the spot where a force lands on enemy territory and secures a position for greater advancement. It’s the place of breakthrough. And it’s also the place of fiercest resistance.
On June 6, 1944–D-Day–Allied forces landed on the beaches of Normandy in one of the most dangerous and decisive moments of World War II. The cost was staggering. Thousands laid down their lives to establish that beachhead. But securing it turned the tide of the war.
The enemy understands what’s at stake at a beachhead: it’s the beginning of the end for his territory. That’s why he defends it with fury. But it’s also where courageous soldiers — committed, focused, and unshaken — make history.
For us as believers in Yeshua (Jesus), the metaphor is rich. Each of us is called to be a beachhead for the Kingdom–a place where God’s light pierces the darkness, where His truth, love, and righteousness begin to take ground.
But here’s the key: before we can be effective beachheads, we must be secured. Our hearts must first be yielded. God must take hold of us–shining His light into our inner battles, tearing down strongholds, and establishing His peace where chaos once reigned.
This spiritual war is real, and it can be costly. But in the midst of it, the Lord does not just call you to fight—He also calls you to dwell in Him. “He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty” (Psalm 91:1). The battle rages, but the safest place you can be is in His presence. Yes, there is sacrifice. Yes, there is warfare. But Yeshua is your Commander—and your Shelter. In Him, you’ll find both covering and rest.
Even as He uses you to bring breakthroughs in others, He invites you to abide in Him. Let your heart become His secure place–not just for warfare, but also for worship. Not just a battlefield–but a sanctuary.
So if the battle feels intense and the cost seems high, remember D-Day–and remember this: every life laid down that day was part of a greater freedom. Your surrender, your faithfulness, your rest in Him will echo in eternity. And one day, Yeshua will say to you, “Well done, good and faithful servant… you were My beachhead.”
Copyright 1999-2025 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
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These verses capture one of the most profound Messianic truths in all of Scripture. What man cast aside, God exalted. What the builders saw as flawed and unfit, God chose as the foundation of His eternal plan. Yeshua (Jesus), the rejected One, is the very cornerstone upon which salvation, identity, and destiny are built. This is more than a theological concept — it’s a divine reversal that reveals the heart of redemption. Rejection by man does not disqualify–it often qualifies you for God’s greatest purposes.
These verses are far more than ancient lyrics — they are a spiritual invitation. The psalmist doesn’t just admire the gate — he pleads for it to open. “Open to me the gates of righteousness…” This is the cry of a heart that longs for access to God, not by merit, but by mercy. In Hebrew thought, gates represent transition points — thresholds between the common and the holy, the outside and the inner court, the temporal and the eternal. These are not man-made doors — they are divine entrances into the presence and promises of the LORD.
As we continue our study in Psalm 118, I want to take a deep dive into verses 17-18, where the psalmist makes one of the boldest declarations in all of Scripture: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD.” This isn’t the voice of someone untouched by pain — it’s the cry of someone who has been through the fire and come out declaring God’s faithfulness. This statement is not a denial of suffering; it’s a defiance of death. It’s the resolve of a heart that’s been chastened, refined, and pressed, yet remains confident in the God who preserves life — not just for survival, but for purpose.
Over the past two devotionals, we heard the song of the redeemed and stood at the wells of salvation. We saw how strength, song, and salvation flow from Yeshua Himself — how the joy of drawing from His presence is not just a poetic promise but a lifeline for our day. Yet today, we stand at a prophetic threshold. Something has shifted. Something has broken open. We are not only being refreshed — we are being awakened and called.
Yesterday, we heard the anthem of the redeemed rise like a trumpet blast: “The LORD is my strength and song, and He has become my salvation.” We explored how this was more than personal — it was prophetic, Messianic, and generational. We saw Yeshua not only as our Deliverer but as the very embodiment of God’s strength, the melody of our praise, and the fulfillment of every promise. We stood in awe as tents of rejoicing rose in the midst of warfare, and households became sanctuaries of celebration. But today, we go deeper — we step to the well.
There’s a reason this verse resounds like a national anthem of the redeemed. It’s not just a personal declaration—it’s a generational cry that echoes back to Moses at the Red Sea (Exodus 15:2) and forward to the final deliverance of Israel. The Hebrew word for salvation—Yeshua—makes this verse unmistakably Messianic. It isn’t a vague deliverance. It is the revelation of Yeshua (Jesus), the Deliverer, who embodies strength, becomes our song, and stands as the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan.
The cry that shattered the stillness of Golgotha—“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46)—was not a random cry of despair, but the deliberate voice of Yeshua pointing to Scripture. As He hung on the tree, bearing the sin of the world, He invoked the ancient words of David—not only identifying Himself as the righteous sufferer, but signaling that Psalm 22 was unfolding before their very eyes. In that moment, heaven and earth bore witness to a divine mystery: the Holy One, seemingly abandoned, was fulfilling a prophecy written a millennium earlier. Yeshua did not merely suffer—He fulfilled every word, every shadow, every stroke of divine prophecy.