The Sound that Wakes the World - Heaven's Alarm Clock

Automated transcript, lightly edited for readability. Scripture appears as spoken; the video is the authoritative teaching.

Shabbat shalom, everybody. So today we're entering into the fall feasts and I figured, oh, how appropriate. Let's talk about the fall feasts again. Let's talk about the importance of Yom Teruah—not only the importance of its history in Scripture and how it was celebrated and for what function, but also how Christians approached this feast day and how they saw a new interpretation of everything the day represented in light of their encounter with the Son of God, with Jesus, with Yeshua. As well as moving forward to Yom Kippur, the day of purgation when the temple of God was purged from all the evidence of our intentional transgressions toward him for the year—a day of grace as well as the peak, the pinnacle, the celebration festival of Sukkot. And so today I figured we would talk about just a brief overview of the festivals and then next week we'll start with, appropriately, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and so on and so forth.

The Sacred Sound

But before I do that, today I wanted to begin this message with a sound. And not just any sound, but the most disruptive, world-shaking, heaven-announcing, sometimes a little annoying sound that is mentioned all throughout Scripture. That's the sound of the shofar—the ancient ram's horn that just cuts through the noise of ordinary life, especially when your nine-year-old gets it in the middle of the night.

But the function throughout Scripture and history of this was not to be a fine-tuned musical instrument, or else it would have holes. It was meant to sound a little obnoxious. It was meant to sound a little raw. It wasn't meant to be enjoyable like, "Oh, this is Kenny G. This is nice." No, and a very famous rabbi from the 13th century, Moshe Modi, said essentially—I'm paraphrasing—"It's really cute that on Rosh Hashanah we blow the sound of the trumpet and we think the sound is all great. Yeah, its real function is to wake up those who sleep. Wake up. We are in a sacred time now. Not meant to be serenaded with."

The Sounds of Our World

But before we dive into this sacred sound, we need to acknowledge some other sounds that may have filled our ears this week: the sound of gunfire in another Colorado school where a 16-year-old thought that the only solution to the worldview we curated for him was to go to his school and start shooting other children and a community was shattered with more senseless violence. We have the unmistakable sound of chaos at a Charlie Kirk event where political discourse was once again interrupted by violence and a new threat of harm. The unmistakable pop followed by blood which demanded to be seen by every man, woman, and child on social media this week.

Speaking with Al earlier, I hear people talking about seeing the Challenger explode on television and how that was traumatic. I was born that year. When I was 14, it wasn't that—it was planes going into buildings—pretty traumatic. Yeah, I didn't see that, though. I didn't see the graphic nature of violence at 11, 12, or 13. Not to that degree, guys. Our children did this week. Our children did.

Social media is supposed to be censored. Doesn't work like that anymore. It's there—Instagram, TikTok, all of it. No, I don't have to worry about that. My kid doesn't get on social media. If they know what social media is, they've seen it. I would have a talk with them because it may open up a necessary and very uncomfortable conversation with them about the world that they're growing up in and going to grow up in.

The sounds of sirens, of weeping, of parents frantically calling their children, of a nation once again saying, "How long, oh Lord? How long?" These sounds matter. The sounds in Scripture, the sounds that the warriors made when God said, "Go take that city," the sounds that the priests made when it was time to announce the new moon or the festivals—they're not just background noise to ignore as we talk about history in the Bible. They're the very reason we need to hear about it today.

The Sound of Heaven

And the shofar is a sound that doesn't ignore the violence of our world, but I would say it conquers it. It's a sound of hope, a sound that was meant to be a reminder of something else, which we'll talk about next week. And so I'd like for Miss Angie Lorenzo to bring your shofar up. And I'd like to blow a shofar right now to draw a line, a separation from sounds that provoke fear and judgment and would entice us to react to the world in a way that would turn our backs on the teachings of Yeshua, our King Jesus Christ.

We blow the shofar to let those in the walls of Jericho know they had better watch out because we're not arriving to the battle with the sounds of gunfire. We're arriving with the sound of heaven. And so please join us. And I want us to blow this shofar as loud and as reckless and as agitating and annoying as possible on the count of three. Not for very long. Maybe 10 seconds or so.

You always got to warn. Y'all will find out next week why. Let's make a distinction now. One, two, three.

When you get older—kids don't know this yet—if you reach down to pick something up and stand up too fast, you'll be reminded of something else too.

The Day of Trumpet Blasts

In just over a week on Monday, September 22nd, Yom Teruah is when we'll be celebrating, and our Jewish brothers and sisters all around the world will gather to hear that sound. Maybe one that's a little bit nicer, but that sound all over the world. It's a day called Yom Teruah, the day of trumpet blast, also known as Rosh Hashanah. It's the beginning of the harvest new year in Judaism.

But here's what most Christians don't realize: this isn't just about Jewish tradition when we do these things. This is about God's master plan for human history that we read in the Bible and that we're all invited to be a part of it. The shofar, this sound, the sound of the shofar—you'll see it doesn't just belong to one feast, but it does open the fall festival season in the Bible with a collection of massive blasts on Yom Teruah.

And it closes Yom Kippur with a single final great blast that announces freedom and restoration. You see how there's a whole story right there? Get ready. Get ready. Get ready. Lots of clamor, lots of chaos, and then the other end of the bookend: freedom, restoration, liberty, peace, shalom. You don't have to worry anymore. You don't have to worry.

Awakening, Repentance, and Joy

When the world around us echoes violence and fear, we must remember that the voice of the Lord always calls us to awakening, to repentance, and to joy, knowing who's in control and who's sovereign.

And so today, we're going to take a journey through the fall moadim, the feast, God's appointed times that map out kind of a spiritual geography of awakening, if you will, within the Torah. Over the next few weeks, we'll dive deep into these festivals and again, hopefully, we'll realize just how important they are as prophetic rehearsals for the greatest story ever told.

Rome and the Rebellion of the Shofar

So, let me paint a picture for what it may have been like in first-century Judea, first-century Israel during the time of Jesus. The Roman Empire also had horns. They had very big horns, very important horns. They had huge brass trumpets that announced the arrival of Caesar. They had military horns that signaled conquest, the imperial fanfares that declared Rome's domain all over the known world.

But then there was this other sound—not quite as civilized, not quite as polished—this raw, primal blast from a ram's horn that refused to bow to empire. When that shofar sounded on Yom Teruah, the day of trumpets, it wasn't announcing Caesar's reign. It was proclaiming the kingship of Yahweh.

It was a sonic revolution—just this acoustic act of subversion and resistance that said your empire is not ultimate. As long as we're still blowing the horn, your power is not permanent. And guess what? There is another king and there's a completely different kingdom that has no end. It's Daniel 7.

Jacob Magam, a Jewish scholar who wrote several commentaries on Leviticus, helps us understand that Yom Teruah wasn't just like this religious festival that you just went to. It was like a constitutional crisis, I guess you could say. Every year when the shofar blew, it reset the entire social order or at least brought it into focus. Debts were acknowledged until the 50th year, right? But Yom Kippur was the echo of that. Debts were acknowledged, relationships were examined. And during this time, especially in Judaism, everyone was reminded that there's a higher authority than the human power structures.

The Word Teruah: A Coronation Announcement

And here's where it gets really interesting. The Hebrew word "teruah" doesn't just mean trumpet blast. You might hear "teruah." But if you look at the word "teruah," it can be used for the sound of a trumpet, but it's the sound of acclamation of a king—the king's presence. It's the victory shout of the battle when it's won. It's the joyful noise when freedom is declared in Jubilees.

When the shofar sounds on the day of trumpets, it's not just making noise. It's announcing a coronation. But whose coronation? That's the question that drives the entire fall festival cycle.

The Ultimate Intervention

If you turn with me to Joel, chapter 2, verse 1, we'll read a Scripture there. And this is where the prophet Joel connects the shofar blasts to God's ultimate intervention in history. And it says, "Blow the trumpet in Zion. Sound the alarm on my holy hill. Let all those who live in the land tremble, for the day of the Lord is coming. It is close at hand."

A day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and blackness. Now, Joel is using the language of Yamua, the trumpet blasts, to describe the day of Yahweh. It's not as much about judgment as punishment, but it's about God finally setting the world right. Right? He's coming back and he's moving all the things around. And sometimes that pours out in judgment. We got to fix stuff. But the chauffear becomes heaven's alarm clock here that wakes up a sleeping world to the reality of God's reign and that you better prepare yourself.

And I always find it funny because before I understood the context of Joel 2, I would just sing the song, it was a Paul, it was David's dad song, right? It's a joke. It's not true. Big running joke. David Wilbur is not related to Paul. Two different names spelled different. But that doesn't stop me from trolling. So, we have that. Oh, there's a whole story. It was great. We used to sing the song and if you listen to it, I think it's Paul Wilbert. It's one of the three or four core mid 2000s Messianic singers. And it goes, "Blow the trumpet." It has this really good diddy to it, right? Go the trumpet in Zion, right? Sound the alarm on my holy, you know what I'm talking about. Couple of old school. Okay. It's such a happy song. Yeah. Blow the trumpet. It's going to be great. And then you keep reading the chapter. This isn't great at all. death, just judgment. Yay. Anyway, next time you hear the song, now you know, right? It's like, oh, we shouldn't be that's no I mean, but it is a joyful noise because the chapter ends on the restoration.

The Spirit Poured Out

Here's what makes Joel's prophecy so beautiful, though. Right after he talks about the day of the Lord as darkness and as trembling and the big thing, right? Right after all of this happens, he pivots to something extraordinary in Joel starting in verse 28. And it says this. It says, "And after and afterward I will pour out my spirit on all people." This is a big direction change. Your sons and daughters will prophesy. Your old men will dream dreams. Your young men will see visions. Even on my servants, both men and women, I will pour out my spirit in those days. You see what's happening here? The same trumpet blast that announces judgment is also announcing the outpouring of God's spirit. The sound that brings awakening also brings the transformation along with it. This is the prophetic pattern that will echo through the entire biblical story.

Fast forward to Acts chapter 2. We're familiar Pentecost. It's Shàuote. 50 days after Passover, the disciples are gathered in Jerusalem when suddenly there's a sound like a rushing wind. The spirit falls. They speak in tongues. And Peter stands up to explain to everyone else what's actually happening. And when he's explaining, what text does he choose to pull from the Bible to make the connection to help people make sense of what they're seeing? Joel chapter 2, the very passage about the trumpet blast and the spirit being poured out. Peter's essentially saying the chauffear sounded, guys. The awakening Joel prophesied is happening right now.

But there's another layer here that most of us miss. Pentecost was only 50 days after Passover, which means it was perfectly positioned between the spring festivals and the fall, the spring mimm, and so on and so forth that we typically say would point to Yeshua's death and resurrection and the instigation of the kingdom. Well, we like to think that with the fall festivals, we're still waiting at least in some big aspects of an ultimate fulfillment of what they might be pointing to and both the here and the not yet. And Pentecost was the holiday that falls right in the middle. Fast day falls right in the middle. The down payment of the greater awakening to coming in a few months.

Another scholar, if you haven't checked him out, I highly recommend GK Beal with his work on the temple and the church. It's a book. It's a fantastic book where he lays out the story of God in a way that is extremely helpful. But he makes the point by saying that fall feasts aren't separate events. They're not these isolated little they're movements in the same story. They're all pointing to the same thing the same trajectory. Again, it begins with the urgent chaotic blasts of the day of trumpets, the awakening, and it continues through the solemn preparation of the days of awe, the 10 days separating Yamuru from Yamapour, and then it reaches its climax and the final blast of Yamapour, completed atonement, and then it resolves into joy found in another festival of Sikot where the sound of celebration replaces the sound of the horn. But the theme of God's presence with his people reaches its crescendo.

When the Moon is Dark

Let's talk about the day of trumpets for a moment because this is where the journey begins. And it begins in Leviticus 23 starting in verse 24 where God says, "Say to the Israelites, on the first day of the seventh month, you are to have a day of Sabbath rest, a sacred assembly commemorated or invoking memories by the trumpet blasts. Notice something here. This is the only feast day to do what? Fall on a New moon only feast day that starts at the beginning of a lunar month. Every other major feast is timed generally for the full moon. Maximum visibility, right? Sode, Passover, maximum visibility of the moon.

But Yamurua happens when the moon is dark or just an itty bitty sliver when you can barely see it. When you have to strain your eyes even to catch a sliver of light. Many people today that try to keep a very accurate calendar looking at the moon in Israel and they it's always it's fun. I used to be very into that. It's a lot of fun because everybody's looking and it's like a game like I found it. No, I found it. I didn't see it. And that is a rehearsal or time traveling back to the first century when the Sanhedrin did the same thing. You didn't see it. I saw it. Oh, my witness said this. We're going to go out and look at it.

It's neat. This isn't accidental. Only feast day where this happens. The message is clear. God's kingdom often begins in darkness. The awakening doesn't wait for perfect visibility or the ideal conditions. The chauffear sounds when you can barely see what's coming. Get ready. It'd be great if you could see what's coming. God doesn't work that way.

For some reason throughout the whole Bible, it is a complaint that has been officially logged. I promise you that. God knows. They have the ticket number and everything. But we know why that is because unfortunately wisdom is only birthed in hindsight. And we'll never get that wisdom and grow if we have all the answers before they come. The chauffear sounds when you can barely see it. When faith has to operate in near darkness and when trust becomes more important than sight.

The Trumpet Sounds for the Scattered

Isaiah the prophet catches this perfectly. He says, "And in that day a great trumpet will sound. Those who are perishing in Assyria and those who are exiled in Egypt will come and worship the Lord on the holy mountain of Jerusalem." The trumpet doesn't sound when the exiles have already come home. All right? These are speaking about the ones that have been sent off and scattered in exile all to many countries. Now they're coming back. The trumpet doesn't sound when the exiles have already come home. It sounds while they're still scattered. The trumpet goes out while the people are still scattered. Still lost. Still far from home. The awakening precedes the homecoming. The call goes out before the response is visible.

Plant Gardens in Babylon

Was reminded this morning of Jeremiah. And I'm glad we had that conversation because Jeremiah 29 is writing. It's God's command to a people that find themselves in a foreign land. Babylonians have taken over. They've come into Rock Hill. They've killed a good chunk of us. They've selected the what they would seem think are the most skilled or smartest of us and shipped them back first and then a whole bunch of other people are going. They're going to destroy the temple soon. All this stuff. And God's trying to comfort all those people that are now months away from home traveling in a whole different country.

The peak arch nemesis of Israel in the whole story. And what's he tell them? He says, "Listen, you know who the enemy is. Get those guns and kill them all and take them all out, right? No. You know what would have happened if the Judean exiles did that? Half the rest of the Bible wouldn't have been written. I mean, it would have been hard. Nehemiah, Ezra, no. No, they would have been squashed. God says there's a different way that you're going to topple this empire. So, plant gardens. What do you mean plant gardens in your neighborhood? Plant gardens. What? All right, we're just going to keep ultra to ourselves here.

No, I want you to marry your kids. Get married. Have families. God, the world is ending or it's going to end soon. What do you mean have families? Have grandkids. Stick this out. I'm in control. I got you. And there's another thing I want you to do. I want you to pray for the absolute blessing and welfare of the pagan violent city that you find yourself living in. Pray for the peace of the city that you live in. Submit to God your request to bless them. That's what I want you to be known for in Babylon. It is not my favorite teaching from God in the Bible because it's difficult. But I believe it. I believe it.

Sounds of Death and Hope

And this week, we've seen how the empire of violence promises control but produces only chaos. When shooters target schools in Colorado or disrupt gatherings, like Charlie Kirks offend, when they do these things, they're acting as agents of the kingdom of death, believing that violence can create the world that they want to see. But every time we hear those awful sounds, the sounds of gunfire, terror, grief, they're eventually followed by other sounds.

The Sound of Awakening

The sounds of first responders running toward danger, of communities gathering to pray and mourn and grieve, and of ordinary people choosing love in the face of hate — in this modern exile, where violence tries to have the last word, the shofar and the message behind it still sounds. The awakening call still goes out, and the invitation to remember our true king still echoes across the landscape of our scattered, fearful, and almost hopeless hearts at times.

Let me show you something. The pattern of Yom Teruah is awakening through disruption, and it runs through the whole story. Think about Abraham. God doesn't call him when he's already seeking — God awakens him out of his comfortable life, and the call comes as disruption, as trumpet blasts that say, "Guess what? There's another way to live. Let's go." Think about Israel in Egypt. They weren't ready to leave when Moses showed up. They were so accustomed to slavery, so accustomed to being chained, that freedom seemed impossible or even unnecessary at times. But the trumpet of God's liberation sounded anyway, awakening them to possibilities they could not have imagined.

Think about the prophets. Jeremiah didn't want to prophesy — I would submit Jeremiah was probably resentful to the day he died about his calling and being forced into it. We read that he was not happy about his calling. But God's word came as fire in his bones that he just couldn't contain. In the context of how it's written, that's part of the burden Jeremiah has to bear. But it was a disruption, and look what came from him. Ezekiel, minding his own business by the river, when God's glory broke into his world. Isaiah was worshiping in the temple when the seraphim's song awakened him to his calling. The pattern isn't always the same in its details, but it's always the same in substance: God's people get comfortable with the way things are, and then the shofar sounds. The awakening comes not as gentle persuasion but as a holy disruption in our lives — anyone who's ever experienced that can attest. The trumpet doesn't ask permission. It just announces the reality and what you need to do next.

Yeshua as the Trumpet Call

And then in the New Testament, this entire function reaches its climax in Yeshua. But I'd say Jesus doesn't just fulfill Yom Teruah and its pattern — he embodies the entire workflow, the pipeline. Matthew's gospel is saturated with feast of trumpets imagery that we miss at times. Matthew , when he's speaking about the destruction of Jerusalem that's going to come just like Babylon, he says, "And he will send his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of earth to the other." That's not simply metaphorical language. That's Yom Teruah theology. That's it. The same trumpet that calls the scattered exiles from all four corners of the earth home is the trumpet that announces the Son of Man's return. That's what Yeshua is talking about.

Think about the Beatitudes. "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." That's not a gentle encouragement — no, it completely inverts the value system of empire. "The meek will inherit the earth." "Peacemakers are the children of God." Amen. That's Yom Teruah-level disruption. That rattled things. Think about the cleansing of the temple. Jesus doesn't whisper his concerns about religious corruption — he overturns tables and declares, "My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations." That's the sound of awakening: loud, disruptive, impossible to ignore.

And yes, I'm making connections here, and I'm not saying there's a literal shofar blast every single time God wants to call you to an awakening. Obviously that would be nice, but God tends to work in a more complex and poetic way than that. But if you want to say, "Matt, Jesus didn't blow a shofar in the temple" — Teruah also means a shout, a declaration of justice and who's in charge, a shout of war, a shout of who reigns. Yeah, we'll call it a Yom Teruah, because he was shouting and he was disrupting.

"You have heard it said, but I say" — over and over, Jesus sounds like a trumpet calling for an awakening, for people to have a new way of living. Love your enemies. Turn the other cheek. Give to anyone who asks. This is not just slight reform. This is total revolution, and it makes us all uncomfortable. At least it should. And the Sermon on the Mount — I love it because it's irritating how revolutionary it is. It's the one we as Christians force ourselves to dilute because of its rawness. It's unpalatable in its raw form. We struggle with it. And if you do struggle with the Sermon on the Mount, good — that's its purpose.

The kingdom of God that Yeshua announced wasn't just some spiritual reality. It was also a political, economic, and social alternative to the kingdom of Rome. Every time Yeshua taught, every time he healed, every time he welcomed the marginalized, every time he sounded the shofar of God's reign — that's what he was calling attention to. There's a new way of living and thinking. Open your eyes. Wake up.

And then, of course, there's the resurrection. Paul tells us in 1 Corinthians 15 that the resurrection of the dead will happen in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. The ultimate awakening from death to life happens at the sound of the trumpet. Here's what makes the resurrection even more profound: this isn't just a personal awakening taking place — it's a cosmic awakening. The resurrection is God's way of saying that the kingdoms of the world cannot have the final word. Death is not ultimate. Violence is not victorious. Love wins, and the trumpet blast of resurrection day proves it.

From Awakening to Atonement

But the fall feasts don't stop with awakening. Ten days after Yom Teruah comes the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur, and here's where the journey gets really intense. The ten days between Yom Teruah and Yom Kippur are called the Days of Awe. These aren't days of fear or a sense of terror — they're days of awe, a sense of overwhelming reverence before the holiness of God. The shofar is sounded. The awakening has begun. The calling — "Hey, shake yourself out. Do you know what time it is? Shake off the mold, shake off the routine. Do you know what time it is? Because you better start getting ready."

Big deal, right? This is the day when the sins of Israel are forgiven through the cleansing of God's house. It was cosmic restoration. The high priest would enter the holiest of holies, the very throne room of the universe, and he would make atonement not just for personal sins but for the collective sins of everybody, as well as for the pollution of God's cosmos and the temple. The biblical worldview understands that human sin doesn't simply affect you as an individual — that's what Yom Kippur is all about. It's not just my personal sin. In the biblical worldview, whenever you intentionally sinned, it was as if you were walking into the temple of God, throwing open the curtains, getting some mud, spitting on it, and throwing it into God's throne room to stick in the ark, to stick in the walls. Numbers talks about this — y'all better not let my house get too dirty or I'm going to leave. Numbers 11. "I'm going to leave." Right? That's where Ezekiel's vision comes from.

And once a year, the high priest would go in and take a mixture of two different animals' blood and sprinkle it a certain way. And then he would be the conduit, carrying out all of the dirt and muck and residue from the sins of the people. He would carry that out as a conduit and place it on a goat. And what happened to the goat? What happens to the people if they come to a place where their sins are overflowing and they're not repentant? That's the top curse in Leviticus — it's exile. Exile. So what happens to the goat that now has all of the sins and trespasses of the people on it? It's sent out into the wilderness. Exiled. You're gone. It's an amazing day. A humbling day. A humbling day.

And every fifty years, that same shofar blast on Yom Kippur announced something even more radical: the Jubilee year. That shofar blast on Yom Kippur announced the day that slaves were freed, debts were all cancelled, land was restored to the original owners. Oh my gosh — can you imagine? That would be fun to watch. You'd probably see people getting all their stuff, leaving. "What happened?" "Reset. Wait — nobody gets too much, nobody gets too powerful."

The sound that began as the awakening of Yom Teruah becomes the sound of ultimate liberation in Yom Kippur. And that's where it gets really interesting for those of us who follow Yeshua, because the book of Hebrews tells us that Jesus is our great high priest who entered not an earthly sanctuary but the heavenly one. And he didn't offer the blood of bulls and goats, but his own blood, achieving eternal redemption. But notice what Hebrews doesn't say — it doesn't say that Yeshua replaced the Day of Atonement. It says that he embodied it. He fulfilled it. The pattern remains: awakening leads to atonement, atonement leads to restoration, restoration leads to celebration and joy. The trumpet call of Yom Teruah awakens us to our need for reconciliation. The atonement of Yom Kippur provides the way for that reconciliation.

God Dwelling With His People

And then five days later comes Sukkot, the celebration of God dwelling with his people. In the book of Revelation, you can see in Revelation 21 that Sukkot isn't just a harvest feast — it's the prophetic rehearsal for the ultimate goal of human history. Look: "God dwelling." Transliterate that back to Hebrew — sukkah. It's the dwelling. Even in Greek it's the word for sukkah, dwelling. "God's dwelling place is now among his people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them. He will be their God." Same word for temporary booths, sukkot, dwelling. The ultimate vision of God's kingdom isn't a distant heaven where we go when we die.

It's God's sukkah pitched right here in creation with God dwelling among us all. It's why Zechariah is so important. It says, "Then the survivors from all the nations that attack Jerusalem will go up year after year and worship the king, the Lord, and celebrate the festival of tabernacles." In the age to come, Sukkot becomes the universal celebration of all nations, even if it is a little forced.

But here's what makes this more incredible. John 7 tells us that Jesus went up to Jerusalem for the feast. And on the last day of the feast, the great day of the feast, he stood and he cried out, "Let everyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them." John then explains that Yeshua was speaking about the spirit which those who believed in him would later receive.

Acts 2—Yeshua is explaining that the temporary dwelling of Sukkot is becoming permanent. That's what he's saying. It's becoming permanent through me. The spirit I'm going to send will turn you guys into this collective walking tabernacle. God's presence won't be limited to this little building like we've all thought that it was. No, it will be with you always.

Man, that must have sounded like heresy. Oh man, can you imagine? What do you see in this temple? In three days—this is revolutionary and hopeful. This is the ultimate fulfillment and embodiment of the fall feasts.

How Do We Live This?

So what's all this mean for us today, living as we do between the fulfillment and the consummation, between the already and the not yet? How do we live this?

First, it means we're called to live as people of the shofar's call. The shofar isn't just sounding in the distant future. It's sounding now. It's a wake-up call right now. The awakening isn't postponed until the second coming. It's available right now. That is how God works.

Every time we choose, every time we make the conscious decision to say, I'm going to let hate take a backseat—just this time, I'm going to stop. I feel it in my body. It's a nervous system response. Ah, this feels familiar. This feels like something I don't like, something I get in trouble for. I feel it. It's a warning. I'm going to let anger and hate just take a backseat, at least for a few more minutes.

I challenge you to do that during a time of awakening. When we choose love over hate and bitterness, peace over violence, justice over oppression, and generosity over greed—we are shaking the universe, guys. Shake it! We are going against the grain of the world in a very real sense. And every time we do that, we're responding to the call of the day of trumpets.

Stop Looking for an Enemy

It means we're called to be agents of reconciliation in a world that wants to be divided. That means stop looking for an enemy to fight and start looking for a soul to save.

Now, I know that's cheesy. I know I sound clichéd. But I don't know how else to say it. We love enemies. We love it—it's an addiction. We love knowing who to hate, who our enemy is, who's the bad guy. We love it. And what's worse is we don't make the decision on our own. We listen to the headlines year after year, month after month. We listen to our friends. We listen to Facebook.

Guys, if we're kingdom-minded and if we actually have a mission, we need fewer enemies and more souls saved. We need less of a hunger for revenge and more of a hunger for mercy.

Imagine that. The pattern of Yom Kippur doesn't end with our personal forgiveness. It extends to our relationships with other people collectively. If the high priest made atonement for the entire community, then who? Then we who follow the high priest, the ultimate high priest, are called to be ministers of what? Reconciliation in a world torn apart by divisions of race and religion and class and nationality and ideology. And at the top of it all is the love of money—that's the one.

We're Embodying That Spirit

And we're called by everybody in the world. The devil himself whispers in our ear, "Choose one to join. Make this your identity now instead of the identity of God's kingdom in Christ." The imagination of the prophets isn't just about predicting the future. It's about imagining alternatives to the present. That is what the prophets were all doing.

When we live as reconciled people in an unreconciled world, when we practice forgiveness in a culture of vengeance, when we choose restorative justice over getting even, we're embodying that spirit of Yom Kippur.

It means we're called to live with the joy of Sukkot even in the midst of temporary circumstances, even if they're hard. See, if you've ever built a real sukkah—I've camped, I've slept in cabins—they're very flimsy. They're not impressive. It's disappointing, really. They're underwhelming at best. They're very simple. They're fragile. They're impermanent. They're vulnerable to the elements. If it rains, the leaves only do so much.

But God's presence is with us permanently. God's love is with us eternally. And God's kingdom is simply unshakable.

The Joy of Sukkot

And yes, even in weeks like this one, when violence shatters the temporary peace of our schools and going out in public, when we hear gunfire in places like Colorado and public figures like Charlie Kirk try to convince us that chaos is winning, we need to push back.

We can live with Sukkot joy. Not because we're naive to evil, but because we know that evil is not the final word. The power that evil has is merely a facade. That's the message. The kingdom of death may seem loud and immediate, but the kingdom of God is eternal and ultimate. And God is still not done yet.

When we choose to love our neighbors instead of fearing them, when we work for justice instead of settling for vengeance, when we create spaces of peace instead of perpetuating cycles of violence, we're living as people who have heard the shofar and responded to its call. We're embodying the joy of Sukkot, even while our temporary shelters may get a little wind and a little flooding.

In just over a week, the shofar will sound to begin Yom Teruah. Over the coming weeks, we'll dive deeper into each of the fall feasts and festivals. We'll explore the coronation call of Yom Teruah, the cosmic reconciliation of Yom Kippur, and of course, the season of our joy in Sukkot.

Are You Listening?

But in a week when we've heard too many sounds of violence and fear, the question I want to leave you today is urgent. How will you prepare to respond to the sound of the shofar when you hear it? How will you let the call to awakening, to reconciliation, and to joy speak louder than the sounds of chaos that try to define our world?

If the sounds of gunshots and chaos have given you a spirit of fear and turned your life upside down, how much more will the spirit of God give you a spirit of peace, life, and purpose? Not next week, right now. Because guys, that's what's happening right now. And now is your time to shine as a Christian. We're here. We're here.

Will you let it disrupt your comfortable assumptions about how the world works? Will you let it challenge your allegiance to the kingdoms of the world? Will you let it awaken you to the possibilities of living as a citizen of heaven while your feet are still planted on this earth?

That sound that shakes the heavens is not just for a future hope. It's a present call. God's kingdom is not just a distant destination. We're in it now! We're in it now! And we rehearse it by keeping the feast.

The Trumpet Is Still Sounding

Guys, the trumpet is still sounding. The coronation of the king is still being celebrated. And the awakening is still happening. People are waking up. People are waking up because they're getting tired of the sounds of the world. And they're getting tired of false promises, and they want peace in their soul and life. And that's a scary thing to demand and a scarier thing to proclaim outwardly in this world.

But Father God himself thinks you're strong enough. Jesus our King, you're strong enough. Holy Spirit within you, you're strong enough. You have power and authority to wear the badge of peace in this world, and don't let anybody talk you down from doing it. You represent something that clashes with the way this world works, and that is revolutionary.

So the question is, are you listening? Are you waiting for the call? Please stand as we go before the Father in a time of meditation, prayer, and worship.

The Chains Are Broken

And so during this time, I invite you. Maybe the Holy Spirit spoke to you today. Meditate on that. You can join us in singing and worship. Or if you need prayer today, we have a prayer partner off to the side of the stage. These are prayer warriors. If you need them to lift you up for any reason, any circumstance in your life, or maybe you're just tired of being scared, these are the people who are going to support you. And I'm going to speak words of encouragement to the Father, petitioning Him to be with you.

Maybe there's something that you realize today you've been carrying around just a little bit too long and amidst all the chaos, it's become a bit heavy. This thing that you've entertained or this thing that you've just kind of kept in your pocket or this thing that you're just chained to, in the name of Yeshua the chains are broken. But you just have to make a choice. Chains are broken. You just got to make a choice whether you want to keep carrying it around or not.

And if you'd like to leave whatever that is here today symbolically, you can make that choice and come up and lay it on this symbolic altar here, guys.

The Power That God Has Given

There's power that God has given to us and there's power in faith and there's power in forgiveness and there's power in believing what Yeshua said about who he is. So take that with you this week and let it transform you. Amen.

Messengers of Reconciliation

Alina Mako, our father, our king. Father, we thank you in the name of Yeshua for the sound of the chauffear, which is your awakening call that comes in so many different forms and shapes and it's always disruptive and it's always a bit agitating and it always comes at the worst time in our life when things are falling apart. Father, don't allow us to get distracted anymore. Please give us focus, still our hearts so that we can hear your voice. We thank you, Father.

Father, I ask that your spirit would ignite in every person here today that would accept that these would be the messengers of reconciliation, the messengers of the resurrection, and the messengers of the sound of the chauffear. In Yeshua's name we pray. Amen.

Hear, O Israel

Shalom is adorn. night. Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God. The Lord is one. Blessed is the name of his glorious kingdom for all eternity. May the Lord bless you and keep you. May the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you. May the Lord lift up his countenance toward you and give you peace. Shabbat shalom.