If someone asked me to name three shepherds in my circle of acquaintances, I couldn’t.  They aren’t prevalent in our western culture.  That wasn’t the case in biblical times.  The Patriarchs were all shepherds, as was Abel, Moses, David, and even Rachel. 

Although I’ve romanticized ancient shepherds who tended sheep, shepherds weren’t highly regarded.  They were rough characters, even dangerous. They often had to fight for rights to water sources and pastures for their sheep.  They had to contend with wild animals who would prey on their flock.  If you encountered a shepherd while walking in the countryside, it could be a perilous encounter.  

Yet, there is an irony.  King Hammurabi of Babylon called himself a shepherd.  And in Homer’s writing, Greek chiefs were called ‘shepherds of the people.’ The royal scepter was a shepherd’s rod that symbolized protection, power, and authority. And in Egypt, the shepherd’s crook was a divine symbol of kingship.

God asked this question through the mouth of Jeremiah. Who is like me and who can challenge me? And what shepherd can stand against me?”  Jeremiah 49:19  

In this passage, God had announced impending judgment on Edom, an evil people known for their hostility toward Israel. He warned that He was a lion who would attack their sheepfold.  His blow would be ferocious in the coming invasion.  Edom’s leaders would be helpless shepherds, too weak to protect their people.  

So, my perception of a shepherd has broadened.  There are definitely two sides to them.  They are tender, willing to lay down their lives for their sheep.  But they are formidable, willing to kill to protect them.  

El Rohi is our gentle shepherd who provides for all our needs.  That brings comfort.  

El Rohi is also our protector.  That brings security as we understand that divine justice will always prevail against our adversaries.   

Oh Shepherd, You saved me from wolves to make me yours. Now, with Your staff, care for me and protect me until I’m safely home.  Amen

If you listen carefully to the Lord your God and do what is right in his eyes, if you pay attention to his commands and keep all his decrees, I will not bring on you any of the diseases I brought on the Egyptians, for I am the Lord, who heals you.  Exodus 15:26

God has made many promises about healing, but this is still one of the places where faith is tested most deeply. Sometimes Jehovah Rapha heals when we cry out. Other times, after long seasons of prayer and fasting, He does not. That silence can create a private disappointment we barely know how to name. We may even feel the need to defend God after publicly declaring that He would heal us, while our own hearts are still carrying unanswered questions.

Jesus varied His methods of healing. Once He used spit, another time a touch, and in John 9, He made mud and sent a blind man to wash in the pool of Siloam. Perhaps the variety had a purpose. Jesus would not allow a method to become the source. If every blind man had been sent to Siloam, people might have chased the pool instead of the Christ. The power was never in the mud or the water. The power was in Him.

Perhaps you are striving for your miracle. You pray more, read more, fast more, searching for the hidden key that will finally make God move. But if healing depended upon finding the right formula, then eventually our testimony would become, “When I did this, God responded.” The glory would quietly shift from His mercy to our method.

Even now, some are being healed and will walk out of ICU. Others are being sustained while they wait. Their confidence rests in something larger than their pain. They know that God will make all things new. Every disease will end. And, Paradise will be restored.

Sometimes we taste heaven now in a miracle. Other times, healing is deferred, and we are given grace to live in the ‘not yet’. We ask Abba hard questions. We grieve. We wrestle. But we can tell Him the truth without raising a fist.

Jehovah Rapha, keep me from mistaking delay for absence or mystery for indifference. Amen

My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.  Job 42:5

The Egyptians wrote a medical book in 1552 B.C. called “Papyrus Ebers.”  Inside were prescriptions and incantations for all kinds of illnesses. Their remedy for hair loss was to apply the fat of a horse, a hippopotamus, a crocodile, a cat, a snake, and an ibex.  The drugs they mentioned might turn your stomach: lizard blood, swine teeth, putrid meat, and moisture from pig’s ears.  Aren’t you glad you live in this century?

Moses was alive in Egypt when this book was written. He probably saw some of these applications in the palace. Years later, he would live to experience God revealing Himself as Jehovah Rapha, the Lord who heals.

The Book of Job is 400 years older than Genesis, so I’m sure many of these primitive methods existed during Job’s suffering. We don’t know if Job’s wife encouraged him to try any of them.  

Job had always been a righteous man. He would arise early in the morning to offer sacrifices to God for himself and each of his children.  They were offered to prevent harm, not because harm existed.  It was Job’s way of ensuring his children’s well-being.  Job did all the right things, yet God permitted Satan to afflict him.  Suffering isn’t always due to sin. 

Job also suffered from the spiritual interpretations of his three closest friends. Though they claimed to speak for God, they did not, eventually driving Job to take his case directly to God. At this point, his relationship with God became personal and intimate. Before this, sacrificing animals to interact with the Almighty had been largely impersonal by comparison.  I know that because of what he said in today’s scripture.  My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you.  Job 42:5

To know God as Jehovah-Rapha, I had to meet Him in places I would never have chosen. There were seasons of bitterness, long enough to strip me of easy answers. I was desperate for something deeper than relief. Suffering drove me into the heart of God. Scripture stopped being beautiful words on a page and became oxygen. Promises I had known for years suddenly carried my full weight. Somewhere in the pain, knowing God became more precious than getting my life back the way it was.

I have known Your healing in my body, and I have known the deeper mercy of Your healing in my soul. You have touched what could not be seen and what no one else could ever reach. What a Healer You are! Amen

El Elyon means God Most High. His power exceeds every political figure who dominates the headlines and every unseen force that works in darkness. Kings govern only within the boundaries He permits, nations rise and fall under His sovereignty, and the spiritual realm is not outside His jurisdiction. No authority rivals Him. No darkness surprises Him. No threat intimidates Him. He watches history unfold with certainty because He is Lord over it.

This is why the names of God matter so deeply. We are doing more than collecting truths about His character. We are discovering places where our hearts can attach to someone tender enough to hold us and powerful enough to rule over what we cannot control. 

El Elyon becomes more than a title when His sovereignty enters the places where our fear has been making predictions about our future. What feels chaotic to me has never once become chaotic to Him. What I cannot untangle is already held inside His wisdom. What frightens me has never frightened Him.

Today, I don’t just want to affirm that God is Most High. I want that truth to move downward into the frightened places of my heart until I actually live differently. I want to quiet my rehearsals of worst-case scenarios, and rest beneath the rule of the One whose throne has never trembled.

Let this name become more than something we know. Let it change the way we know You, God. Amen

God’s light came into the world, but people loved the darkness more than the light, for their actions were evil.   John 3:19  NLT

Jesus announced that He was the Light of the world, yet Scripture says we loved darkness rather than light. Christ was glorious, but we did not find His glory desirable. Light exposed what darkness allowed us to hide, so we turned away from the very One who had come to save us.

Then how does anyone believe? God opens blind eyes to see “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” And that call is personal. The voice that created the world becomes intimate enough to speak to one human heart.

In Genesis, His voice broke into chaotic darkness and every dead thing responded and came to life. And one day, in a way just as miraculous, that voice reached me.

No one knows whose name God will speak next. That keeps me praying for people who seem unreachable, resistant, even hostile to Christ. Saul was not inching his way toward faith on the Damascus road; he was traveling in the opposite direction. Then Jesus called his name, and the man who was zealous to oppose Christ was undone by Christ Himself. I know something of that undoing. The longer I stay near Jesus and let His Spirit search me, the less familiar my old self becomes. Sometimes I read my old journals and wince at the woman I used to be. Grace has not merely grazed my flesh. It has dismantled it.  New birth begins with foundations.

So if you sense Christ pressing against the door of your soul, do not treat it casually. Do not assume you will always hear it and have time to respond. Run to Calvary. The One calling your name is calling you out of the tomb into resurrection life.

Lord Jesus, for those who are resisting You, arguing with You, or trying not to hear You, speak with the authority that stopped Saul in his tracks. Call them by name until resistance gives way to surrender. Amen.