John 1:17 For the law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.
Having spent over 20 years living in Israel’s Negev Desert, I’ve come to appreciate the importance of salt in maintaining proper hydration. “What in the world does salt have to do with grace and truth?”, you ask. Well, I’ll tell you.
Salt, as you might recall from chemistry class, is a combination of sodium and chlorine. Sodium is a harmless active element, while chlorine is a toxic gas responsible for bleach’s unpleasant odor. Yet, when these two elements combine, they form salt—a substance widely used to preserve food and enhance its flavor.
In the same way, if we present the truth of the Gospel without grace, it often produces a very offensive and sometimes poisonous effect on those with whom we share it. However, if we combine the two, we’ll be be able to preserve and bring out the delicious flavor of our faith!
Grace and truth came by Yeshua HaMashiach (Jesus Christ), the scripture says. How much more should we approach the world around us with these two important components?
Are you finding it challenging to share the Gospel effectively? Maybe you need more grace—or perhaps more truth. Let’s give our efforts to the Lord and ask Him to spice it up the way He likes! It’s harvest time! If we share the gospel full of grace and truth, we will surely reap a hundredfold!
Copyright 1999-2026 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
More Devotions
The parable of the fig tree is not just a message to observers — it’s a summons to the faithful. The fig tree puts out its leaves first, then comes the fruit. Spiritually, that’s a call to live in readiness even before the final harvest arrives. Yeshua (Jesus) tells His disciples, “Be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect” (Matthew 24:44).
Among all fruit-bearing trees, the fig tree is uniquely prophetic–because it is one of the few that produces two harvests in a single growing season. First comes the early crop in spring, known in Scripture as the “first ripe fig” (Isaiah 28:4), and then a second, more abundant harvest in late summer or early fall. This uncommon pattern is a living picture of prophecy woven into the fabric of creation.
Yeshua (Jesus) didn’t merely offer a suggestion–He issued a command: “Learn the parable.” In Greek, the word manthano (μανθάνω) implies disciplined learning, not casual observation. In Hebraic thought, to “learn” a parable means to press into its hidden meaning until it transforms how you live. The fig tree is not just a poetic image–it’s a prophetic mandate. And Yeshua expected His disciples, including us, to understand it deeply.
Yeshua (Jesus) used the fig tree—a familiar symbol in Israel’s botanical and prophetic world—as a teaching tool to awaken spiritual discernment. The fig tree, known for losing all its leaves in winter and budding again in spring, became a natural signpost to mark the changing seasons. In the same way, Jesus gave His disciples prophetic markers to discern a coming shift: wars, famines, false messiahs, persecution, lawlessness, and the global preaching of the gospel (Matthew 24:4–14).
On July 4th, America remembers a bold declaration — a break from tyranny, a longing for a better government, and the birth of a nation built on liberty. The Founders risked everything to establish a new way of life, one where freedom could flourish. Their cry was clear: “We will no longer be ruled by kings who oppress–we will be governed by laws that reflect liberty and justice.”
In a world full of uncertainty, this verse from Romans stands like a lighthouse in the storm: “The God of hope…” Not just the God who gives hope, but the very source of it. When everything around us seems shaken — economies falter, nations rage, relationships strain — it is the God of hope who remains unshaken and unchanging.
When Yeshua (Jesus) spoke these words not only to the seventy He sent ahead of Him, but to every disciple who follows Him into the world, it’s a striking picture: fields overflowing with a harvest, ready to be gathered. The problem isn’t the readiness of the harvest — it’s the shortage of workers willing to go.