Isaiah 43:18-19 Do not remember the former things, Nor consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing, Now it shall spring forth; Shall you not know it? I will even make a road in the wilderness And rivers in the desert.
As we celebrate the High Holy Days of Rosh Hashanah or Yom Turah (Feast of Trumpets) tonight, we enter into a new season. Rosh Hashanah traditionally marks the Jewish New Year. “Shanah” is a unique Hebrew word meaning “to repeat, revise, or go over again.” As we begin the new year, with fall, then winter, spring, and summer, we remember the cyclical pattern of time in God’s creation. The nature of life is to repeat itself — to continue in a cycle, marked by Rosh HaShannah — a New Year. Although time is moving in a direction toward a definite destiny determined by the Creator, it does so in cycles … truly, “what goes around comes around.”
However, “Shanah” does not only mean “to repeat” — but also “to change” …
So, entering this new year, a fresh cycle, we may also grasp the opportunity to change, to do something radically new and different. New beginnings are a time for new choices, new experiences, new hopes, and dreams. Can we allow this season to inspire the desire for new experiences and initiatives in God? Can we choose to pray for, expect and act within the divine order of a new cycle … break out of the “same old — same old” and choose to believe in His power to do exceedingly abundantly more than we could ask or imagine? The new season beckons us to this…
If we believe that our Lord is really on top of things, if we believe that He can even redeem our mistakes, then we ought to be filled with expectation for change, great change in our lives, by His divine power to work in and through us. Entering this new season can inspire a choice in faith, to love and serve with greater devotion than ever, perhaps in ways we have only dreamt of. A new year is upon us. Let’s choose change — for He will “do a new thing.”
Copyright 1999-2026 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
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This piercing question opens Psalm 11 like a cry from the heart in troubled times. It’s a question we ask when law and order collapse, when truth is ridiculed, and when those who do evil seem to triumph. The foundations — the principles of righteousness, justice, and truth that uphold society — are under siege. And it begs the question: What can God’s people do when everything righteous seems to be crumbling?
After one of the greatest spiritual victories in all of Scripture–calling down fire from heaven on Mount Carmel and turning the hearts of Israel back to God–Elijah finds himself blindsided by fear.
Elijah heard what no one else did — a storm was coming. Though the sky was still blue and the ground still cracked from years of drought, Elijah discerned the sound of abundance. It was a prophetic knowing, a spiritual sensitivity that saw past what was visible into what God was about to do.
When Elijah cast his cloak over Elisha in the field, it wasn’t just a symbolic act — it was a divine call. Elisha understood this and responded not with delay or excuse, but with decisive action. After asking to say goodbye to his parents, he returned, slaughtered his oxen, and used the wooden yokes as fuel for the sacrifice. Then he gave the meal to the people and walked away from everything familiar to follow the prophet Elijah.
Elijah had just come through one of the most intense seasons of his life. He had called down fire from heaven on Mount Carmel, seen the prophets of Baal defeated, and yet found himself running in fear from Jezebel, exhausted and discouraged. In the cave at Horeb, he cried out, believing he was alone and that all was lost. But it was there—in the still small voice—that God revealed His presence and His plan.
Over the weekend, the United States launched a bold operation aimed at ending Iran’s nuclear program. In the quiet of the night, unseen by human eyes, B-2 Spirit bombers initiated Operation Midnight Hammer—a precision strike designed to eliminate hidden threats before they could bring harm. With unmatched stealth, they cut through the darkness, delivering a decisive blow against danger.
Every true move of revival begins where few look for it—at the hidden brook, in the quiet place of God’s pruning. Cherith (נַחַל כְּרִית) means to cut off, to separate, to covenant. Before Elijah could stand on Mount Carmel and call down fire, he had to be separated, set apart for God’s purposes.