In Hosea 6:1–3 we read, “Come, let us return to the LORD; for He has torn us, that He may heal us; He has struck us down, and He will bind us up. After two days He will revive us; on the third day He will raise us up, that we may live before Him. Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD; His going out is sure as the dawn; He will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth.”

 This passage confronts us with a paradox: the Lord wounds us, yet His purpose is to heal us. He tears, but His goal is restoration. The prophet Hosea reveals that divine wounding is never arbitrary. It has purpose, it is redemptive, and ultimately life-giving.

 People who know me, know that I have had two knee replacement surgeries. Major surgery, such as knee replacement, illustrates the truth the Lord’s redemptive work, wounding to bring healing, vividly. The procedure is invasive, even brutal to the untrained eye. Bones are cut, tissue is removed, and foreign material is implanted. The body is wounded in ways that seem excessive. Yet the surgeon’s intent is not harm, but healing. The “brutality” is precisely measured, only to the extent necessary to restore mobility, relieve pain, and bring long-term wellness. I can attest to the seeming brutality, but also to the long-term benefit of healing from the wound. Prior to my surgery, the bone-on-bone pain was a sign of continued destruction, but after surgery, the pain was a sign of constructive healing. 

 So it is with the Lord. His wounds may feel overwhelming, His discipline severe, but His wounds are never without purpose. What seems excessive is exactly what is needed to restore us to Him. His wounding is not destruction, it is life-giving surgery for the afflicted soul.

 Sin has wounded humanity deeply, and created a chasm too broad for us to cross (Lk. 16:19-31). Still, Isaiah prophesied, “He was pierced for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with His wounds we are healed” (Isa. 53:5). Yeshua/Jesus bore the brutality of the ultimate “surgery” of the cross, taking upon Himself the wounds of our rebellion. His suffering was not random cruelty, but the precise, necessary act to heal the wound of sin, and give eternal life to those believing (Jn. 3:16; Eph. 2:8-10).

 The brutality of the crucifixion mirrors the brutality of surgery: both are invasive, both involve pain, and both seem excessive. Yet in Christ’s case, the wounds were not His own, they were ours. He took them willingly, so that we might be restored to God. His resurrection on the third day fulfills Hosea’s promise: “After two days He will revive us; on the third day He will raise us up, that we may live before Him.”

 The Lord’s wounding is always restorative: Discipline: He tears down pride so He can rebuild humility. Correction: He exposes sin so He can cleanse and forgive. Healing: He allows brokenness so He can bind us up with His grace and mercy.

 Like surgery in the natural, His work may leave scars, but those scars testify and give witness to healing. They remind us that what once was diseased or broken has been restored. The work of my surgeon and his team was so precise that the healed scar is hardly visible. In light of the brutality of the surgery and the excessive swelling in the weeks following, all that remains is a slight scar. His surgery in the moment may seem excessive, brutal, too much for us to bear, but in the recovery, we see just how precise He was, and that not one wound was beyond the purpose of bringing healing. 

 Hosea concludes with a call: “Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD.” Healing is not the end; it is the beginning of deeper relationship with the Living God. 

After knee replacement surgery, recovery involves icing and working the new joint, getting up to walk even with the pain and instability in order to regain strength and mobility. So we must press forward in discipleship after the Great Physician wounds in order to heal, then living in the restored relationship Messiah has secured. We must now walk by faith and not by sight (2 Cor. 5:7). 

 The wounds of the Lord are not signs of His cruelty, but of His love for us. They are the surgeon’s incisions, precise and purposeful, meant to bring life. Yeshua/Jesus bore the ultimate wound so that we might be healed eternally. And now, every wound we endure under His hand is a step toward restoration, a scar that testifies to His mercy, and a reminder that His coming to us is as sure as the dawn. May He come speedily, even in our days. 

 Maranatha. Shalom. 

“Now there was leaning on Yeshua’s bosom one of His disciples, whom Yeshua loved” (Jn. 13:23). 

John’s posture at the Passover Seder was not accidental. To lean upon the chest of Jesus was to draw near enough to hear His heartbeat. In that moment, John was not only close in body, but attuned in spirit. The rhythm of the Messiah’s heart spoke of His love, His faithfulness, and the coming sacrifice of redemption.

Today, this image invites us to consider: what does it mean to hear the heartbeat of Yeshua?

Intimacy over distance: John’s closeness reminds us that discipleship is not solely an intellectual assent, but relational nearness. We are called to rest in Him, not just walk behind Him.

Love as the rhythm of life: The heartbeat John heard was the pulse of His love. To hear Yeshua’s heartbeat today is to let His love set the rhythm of our own lives, our decisions, our relationships, and our ministry, as it is all about Him. 

Peace in the midst of turmoil: The Last Supper was shadowed by betrayal and impending suffering. Yet, John was at peace while leaning into Yeshua. In our own seasons of uncertainty, His heartbeat also steadies and calms us.

Identity rooted in belovedness: John is described as “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” Hearing His heartbeat affirms our identity as beloved sons and daughters in the household of God, not defined by failure or striving but by His love for us.

To hear His heartbeat now is to cultivate devotion, prayer, and worship where His presence is not just acknowledged, but embraced. Take time to be with Him. Let Scripture and the Holy Spirit draw you so close that you discern His desires, His griefs, His joys. It is to live in rhythm with Him, with our heartbeat synchronized with His.

Yeshua, our Beloved, draw us close enough to hear Your heartbeat. Let Your example of love steady our fears, shape our choices, and define our identity. May we, like John, rest upon You and find peace in Your presence. Teach us to live in step with Your heart, as others experience and hear Your love through us. Amen.

Maranatha. Shalom. 

Breathing is the most natural rhythm of life. Without it, we cannot survive. Yet, Scripture reminds us that our spiritual life also depends on a kind of breathing: drawing in the promises of God, releasing obedience to His will, and resting in His steadfast love. This rhythm is not optional; it is essential for discipleship and communion with the Lord.

 The Apostle Paul encourages us, “For all the promises of God find their Yes in him. That is why it is through him that we utter our Amen to God for his glory” (2 Cor. 1:20). To inhale spiritually is to take in the life-giving promises of God. His Word is oxygen for the soul, as it is itself “God-breathed” (2 Tim. 3:16). When we meditate on His faithfulness, His assurance of forgiveness, and His promise of eternal life, we are strengthened. Just as breath fills the lungs, His promises fill our hearts with hope.

 “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness’” (2 Cor. 12:9). Every promise of the Lord is a reminder that He sustains us, even in weakness. Inhaling His Word is an act of faith, drawing life from His Spirit (Jn. 6:63).

 Messiah Yeshua/Jesus exhorts us, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments” (Jn. 14:15). Breath is incomplete without exhalation. Likewise, faith is incomplete without obedience. To exhale spiritually is to release our will and align with His commands. Obedience is not burdensome (1 Jn. 5:3); it is the natural outflow of a heart filled with His promises, “So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead” (Jas. 2:17). Exhaling obedience means living out what we have received. It is surrender expressed in action, trust manifested in daily choices, and worship embodied in service.

 Still, we must rest in His steadfast love, as we read: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness” (Lam. 3:22–23). 

 Breath happens in an atmosphere. Spiritually, that atmosphere is the unfailing love of God. His חֶסֶד/ḥesed, steadfast, love, even zeal, surrounds us like air, unseen yet sustaining. To rest in it is to cease striving, knowing we are upheld by His mercy and embraced by His faithfulness. David writes, “As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him” (Ps. 103:13). 

 Resting in His love means trusting that His compassion is constant, His mercy is abundant, and His presence is always near. To breathe spiritually is to live in rhythm with God: inhaling His promises, exhaling obedience, and resting in His steadfast love. This rhythm sustains discipleship, empowers obedience, and anchors us in His covenant faithfulness. Job offers encouragement when reflecting on his life and circumstance, “The Spirit of God has made me, and the breath of the Almighty gives me life” (Job 33:4). May we learn to breathe deeply of His Spirit, finding life, strength, and rest in Him all the days of this life.

 Maranatha. Shalom.