In a world full of unrest and uncertainty—where wars rage, missiles fall, and fear takes hold—we find ourselves once again entering Tishrei, the seventh month of the Jewish calendar. This sacred season arrives not as an escape from reality but as a deeper invitation into it. In the midst of chaos, three holy days call us to reflect, repent, and rejoice in God’s presence and provision: Rosh Hashanah (Feast of Trumpets), Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement), and Sukkot (Feast of the Tabernacles).

These holy days are more than just traditions, they are divine appointments: a call to return, a call to dwell, and a call to seek God. The Hebrew word for “seek” is darash. It doesn’t mean a quick glance; it speaks of a wholehearted, relentless pursuit.

God isn’t just inviting us to remember the past; he’s inviting us to draw near to him in the present. Just as our ancestors experienced his presence in the wilderness in the Tent of Meeting, so too does he long to dwell in our midst today. What a beautiful image: God was not distant or detached but present, personal, and near.

The world our ancestors faced was uncertain, unstable, and full of danger. They were displaced and afraid, confronted by threat after threat. And even while they were still wandering, God gave them Sukkot, a command to remember those years with joy instead of dread. Once in the Land, they were to commemorate it by rejoicing for seven days while living in temporary booths (see Leviticus 23:40–42).

Even in the midst of struggle and instability, we are called to rejoice in God’s presence and provision.

Sukkot still stands as a reminder that even in the midst of struggle and instability, we are called to rejoice in God’s presence and provision. That’s not always easy, but it is powerful.

I want to share a recent example that brings this truth to life in the most unexpected setting.

Our annual Massah program usually brings groups of young Jewish believers in Jesus to Israel. This is a time for them to study the Bible, explore the Land, and grow in spiritual formation, including learning how to talk about their faith with those who don’t yet believe. But this year was anything but typical. As missiles rained down, the team found themselves repeatedly running to bomb shelters.

Inside those shelters, the Massah team worshipped with joyful defiance, lifting their voices to drown out the sounds of the sirens with songs of praise. When it was safe to leave, they joined our Israeli staff in distributing food and supplies to first responders on the front lines.

One night, as the Massah team worshipped in a shelter, they were joined by two TV technicians—one a native Israeli, the other a Persian Israeli—neither of whom believed in Jesus. As the worship continued, both men were visibly moved. One began asking deep questions about Yeshua, and in a powerful moment, a former Iranian Muslim, now following Jesus, shared his faith with the Persian technician in Farsi.

While the team remained in Israel, our leadership and global partners prayed fervently for their safe return. And God answered. The team boarded a bus to Jordan and, though they endured long hours waiting in the hot sun at the border, they eventually made it through. One team member texted, “Wow, your prayers really have been felt. The fact that we got no missiles at all last night and no missiles all the way to Jordan was a miracle. We haven’t gone that long without missiles for a week!”

By the time you read this, the situation in Israel—or anywhere else—may have changed. But one thing remains certain: God is in control. It’s easy to get distracted, not just by world events but by the everyday demands of life and ministry. Even in normal seasons, the urgent can eclipse the eternal.

We can become so focused on the work of the Lord that we forget the Lord of the work.

Ministry, like any profession, can easily become task driven: meetings to attend, goals to meet, emails to answer. All of it matters. But if we’re not careful, we can become so focused on the work of the Lord that we forget the Lord of the work. Crisis can refocus us and so can sacred seasons like the ones we’re stepping into now.

The feasts are invitations to pause—to close the laptop, silence the phone, and return to what matters most. Not just to present our lists of needs but to seek God himself, not just for answers but for relationship, for a return—again and again—to his presence.

Because that’s what he desires for us above all.

As we enter a new Jewish year, we carry dreams, prayers, and plans for growth, impact, and transformation. But more than anything, what we need most is to know God’s presence in our midst. Every lasting work begins there—with him.

I’m reminded of God’s promise to the exiles of Israel: “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope” (Jeremiah 29:11).

God still has a plan—not of harm, but of healing; not of fear, but of hope—a plan that leads to shalom. And more than the plan itself, he gives us himself. Thank you for standing with us as we pursue God’s salvation for the Jewish people and as we rejoice in his presence, no matter the circumstances.