1 Timothy 6:7 For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.
About a week ago, archaeologists uncovered the tomb of an Egyptian pharaoh in Luxor, which is situated on the ancient city of Thebes. This marked the first discovery of its kind in the area since the excavation of King Tutankhamun’s tomb in 1922.
When you think of Egypt, the pyramids are likely the first image that comes to mind. Similarly, when I think of the pyramids, they remind me of a valuable life lesson I’d like to share.
Some folks, especially those into New Age teaching, think these pyramids are full of spiritual mysteries. Some say aliens built them; others suggest they’re packed with cosmic energy. But at the end of the day, these giant structures are just fancy graves, gigantic tombstones for the dead with all their earthly treasures that didn’t go with them in the afterlife.
The pyramids illustrate a vital lesson: pursuits of self-glorification lead to nothing but waste, destruction, futility, and death. No matter how grand or elaborate our earthly achievements might be, without focusing on the Kingdom, they are merely monuments to our egos, lifeless and hollow—just like the pyramids.
However, by putting our egos and worldly pursuits to rest and turning our focus to the Kingdom—and the everlasting life that awaits us—we avoid boasting of our earthly treasures and concentrate instead on His work, leading us to an eternal reward.
So, let’s continue to invest wisely in those things that endure forever. This world will soon pass away, and only things set up to build His eternal Kingdom will remain. So, let’s focus on the investments that never fail with the time left to invest!
Copyright 1999-2026 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
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King David wrote these words generations before the empty tomb shook the foundations of death. At first glance, Psalm 16 reads like a personal prayer of trust — a yearning for security and closeness with God. But beneath the surface, the Spirit was revealing something deeper, something eternal: a promise not just for David, but for all of us.
The majestic Messianic prophecy of Isaiah 9 culminates in a powerful declaration: “The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this.” Not might. Not maybe. Not if we work hard enough. It will be done — because God Himself is passionate to see it through. The Hebrew word for “zeal” here is קִנְאָה (kin’ah), which also means jealousy or burning passion. This is not passive interest — it’s the fiery determination of the LORD of Hosts to establish His Kingdom. The same fiery zeal that struck Egypt with plagues—shattering the power of false gods, that parted the Red Sea and made a way where there was none, that birthed a nation from the womb of slavery, and that drove the Son of God to the cross at Calvary — is the very zeal that will fulfill every promise declared in Isaiah 9.
In a world weary from political upheaval, moral confusion, and fleeting peace, Isaiah offers us a vision of something profoundly different—an ever-increasing kingdom ruled by a King whose justice is not compromised, whose peace is not fleeting, and whose throne is eternally secure. The phrase “of the increase of His government and peace there will be no end” speaks not just of duration, but of expansion—a kingdom that doesn’t plateau, doesn’t weaken, and doesn’t shrink back in the face of darkness. Instead, it advances, multiplies, and transforms.
In the Hebraic understanding, a name isn’t just a label—it reveals essence, identity, and destiny. Isaiah doesn’t say these are merely descriptions of the Messiah; he says His Name shall be called — meaning this is who He is. When we declare these names, we are not offering poetic praise — we are calling upon real attributes of the living King. In just one verse, the prophet unveils the depth of Messiah’s personhood, showing us that this child is no ordinary child. He is the fulfillment of heaven’s promise and the revelation of God’s nature.
In a world wearied by the failures of men, Isaiah 9:6 offers a startling promise of hope and strength: “The government shall be upon His shoulder.” This is not the language of politics as we know it — it’s the language of divine dominion. The Hebrew word for “government” here is misrah (מִשְׂרָה), a word so unique it appears only in these two verses—Isaiah 9:6 and 9:7. Unlike more common Hebrew words for government — mamlachah or memshalah, misrah speaks of a rare and elevated rule—divinely ordained, gentle in character, and eternal in scope. This is a government not imposed, but carried. Not tyrannical, but righteous and restorative.
The prophet Isaiah begins with language so familiar that it’s often read too quickly. Yet within this brief phrase lies a depth of mystery and majesty that anchors the entire gospel. “For unto us a Child is born” speaks of an earthly event–Messiah’s humanity. He was born as all men are born, taking on flesh, entering a specific culture, time, and lineage. The Hebrew word for “born” (yalad) reinforces His full identification with us. This is the miracle of the incarnation: God wrapped in the vulnerability of a newborn child.
When the Lord called us to be His ambassadors, He didn’t merely give us a message — He gave us a lifestyle to embody it. An ambassador is not just a messenger, but a living representation of the Kingdom they serve. That means our behavior, words, and example all matter deeply.