Psalms 118:14-16 The LORD is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation. 15 Glad songs of salvation are in the tents of the righteous: “The right hand of the LORD does valiantly, 16 the right hand of the LORD exalts, the right hand of the LORD does valiantly!”
Isaiah 12:2-3 “Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid; for the LORD GOD is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation.” 3 With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.
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.
Isaiah 12 picks up where Psalm 118 leaves off, repeating that same triumphant cry: “the LORD, is my strength and song; He also has become my salvation.” But then it adds something profoundly spiritual: “Therefore with joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.” These wells are not shallow. They were dug in eternity past and opened at the cross. And the joy we draw with is not emotional hype — it is the deep gladness of a soul that knows the Source. The same Yeshua who brings salvation now invites you to draw daily from His endless supply.
During Sukkot, the Feast of Tabernacles, the priests would pour water from the Pool of Siloam upon the altar with joy and dancing. Psalm 118:14 was sung aloud as crowds celebrated God’s provision. And on the final day of that feast — Hoshana Rabbah — Yeshua Himself stood in the Temple and declared, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink!” (John 7:37). It was more than a dramatic moment — it was a fulfillment. He is the salvation Isaiah had prophesied, and Psalm 118 had celebrated.
So now, the call is clear. You’re not just meant to survive in the wilderness — you’re meant to draw joyfully. You’re not called to wander parched — you’re called to drink deeply. The same strength that stood firm yesterday, the same song that rose from battle, is now calling you to a well that never runs dry. This is a lifestyle of praise and drawing. Rejoicing isn’t a response to circumstances — it’s a result of connection. And when you drink from Yeshua, living waters will flow not just into you but from you (John 7:38).
Now that the prophetic anthem has taken root—“The Lord is my strength and my song”—it’s time to go deeper. It’s time to come to the well. Don’t settle for yesterday’s echo—encounter the living source today. Let joy awaken as you draw from the depths of His salvation. Stir the waters of your spirit. Lift your voice and proclaim with courage: “Behold, God is my salvation!”
If you’re weary — draw. If you’re parched — draw. If you’re down and out –draw. Yeshua is not only the melody of your past victory — He is the fountain of your present power. Drink until rivers surge from within. Praise until walls tremble. Rejoice until the heavens break open over your home. Your Redeemer lives—and the ancient wells are open. Come thirsty… and leave overflowing.
Copyright 1999-2026 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
More Devotions
I’ll be doing a series on the “Arm of God,” beginning with this first message — The Arm that Redeems. The Hebrew Z’roah (זְרוֹעַ) means “arm” or “strength,” and in ancient Hebrew culture, the arm symbolizes active power in motion — strength applied for a purpose. In the Exodus account, God tells Moses He will redeem Israel “with an outstretched arm” (bizroa netuyah). This was not poetic metaphor; it was God’s declaration of decisive intervention. The Z’roah is the covenant-keeping arm that moves history, enforces promises, and breaks oppression. Every Pesach (Passover), during the seder — the festive meal of remembrance — the roasted lamb shank bone, the Z’roah, rests on the plate as a silent yet powerful witness to God’s mighty deliverance.
These closing verses of Psalm 118 begin with an unshakable proclamation: “The LORD is God.” In Hebrew, it’s emphatic — YHVH, He is El — the declaration that all authority, holiness, and sovereignty belong to Him alone. Yet this is not just a statement of who He is — it’s a testimony of what He has done: “He has made His light to shine upon us.” This light is more than the glow of the sun — it is the revelation of His presence, the warmth of His favor, and the piercing truth that chases away every shadow. His light doesn’t simply illuminate — it transforms.
Psalm 118:24 is not merely about enjoying a new day — it is a prophetic declaration of a divinely appointed moment. “This is the day the LORD has made” speaks of a kairos moment in history when heaven and earth converge. It points to the day when Messiah would be revealed, salvation would walk into Jerusalem, and God’s covenant plan would take a dramatic step forward. This is not the casual celebration of a sunrise — it is the joyful response to God’s redemptive unfolding.
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.