Joshua 5:2, 8-10 At that time the Lord said to Joshua, “Make flint knives for yourself, and circumcise the sons of Israel again the second time.”
8 So it was, when they had finished circumcising all the people, that they stayed in their places in the camp till they were healed. 9 Then the Lord said to Joshua, “This day I have rolled away the reproach of Egypt from you.” Therefore the name of the place is called Gilgal to this day. 10 Now the children of Israel camped in Gilgal, and kept the Passover on the fourteenth day of the month at twilight on the plains of Jericho.
Romans 2:29 but he is a Jew who is one inwardly; and circumcision is that of the heart, in the Spirit, not in the letter; whose praise is not from men but from God.
Pesach (Passover) celebrates Israel’s final departure from Egypt – that’s why we read about it in “Exodus!” Leaving their former lives of slavery, the Jewish people now pressed forward looking toward the “Promised Land” and a new way of life. Their purpose was not only departure – it was also arrival to a new destination. Now there was a significant 40 year delay in the wilderness….
…..but Israel finally crossed over the Jordan river into the ‘Promised land’. And as they entered the land, Joshua was commanded to circumcise Israel a “second time”. This circumcision of the flesh was required for their passage into the Promised Land, and I believe it is a picture for us. The flesh must be sacrificed for us to enter our inheritance. While the Passover event is a picture of our deliverance from sin and death through the sacrificed Lamb, this “circumcision” of the flesh is required for a fruitful life in the spirit which produces an inheritance. One might also see it as a circumcision of the heart, a removing of flesh which makes our heart alive and sensitive to the Lord and to others producing a life of love and good fruit.
Deliverance from sin and death is a free gift through the sacrifice of Messiah our perfect Lamb. Our response should be to offer our bodies, our flesh, as living sacrifices that we may enter the destiny of love and fruitfulness which is our own personal Promised Land. A life of holiness is the fruit of a circumcised heart which will yield a rich inheritance in the world to come.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Life wears us down. We live in a world of relentless motion, pressure, and performance. Yeshua (Jesus) doesn’t deny this. Instead, He speaks directly to those who are “weary and heavy-laden.” The Greek for “weary” (kopiao) means utterly worn out—soul-tired, not just physically fatigued. The burdens He mentions aren’t only external tasks but inward baggage: guilt, shame, expectations, and hidden wounds. Yeshua’s call isn’t merely an invitation to stop—it’s a call to come. He offers what no one else can: rest that restores.
When we read the promises of God, we must read them the way we ourselves want to be heard—in full context. Just as we expect others to understand our words in light of what we’ve said before, God expects us to interpret His promises in light of all He has revealed in His Word.
A few days ago, I shared a quote from B.J. Willhite, and today I want to delve deeper into his powerful insight. He wrote, “The law of prayer is the highest law of the universe—it can overcome the other laws by sanctioning God’s intervention. When implemented properly, the law of prayer permits God to exercise His sovereignty in a world under the dominion of a rebel with free will, in a universe governed by natural law.”
When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.
In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.
Tonight we’ll participate in the Independence Day celebration in Israel — and what a party! — shows, fireworks, music, dancing, everything under the sun!
Yesterday, Israel observed Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Remembrance Day—honoring the memory of the six million Jews who perished. Tragically, a recent poll reveals that nearly half of Israelis fear the possibility of another Holocaust. In light of this sobering reality, I want to share a powerful story of one remarkable woman who rescued 2,500 Jewish children from the ghettos during World War II.