1 Corinthians 5:7-8 Therefore purge out the old leaven, that you may be a new lump, since you truly are unleavened. For indeed Christ, our Passover, was sacrificed for us. Therefore let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.
Thousands around the world celebrated Pesach (Passover) this weekend, marking the moment when the Angel of Death passed over the homes of the Israelite slaves in Egypt—sparing their firstborn because of the lamb’s blood on their doorposts. For many believers in Yeshua (Jesus), this day also commemorates the crucifixion of the Messiah, who offered Himself as the perfect Lamb of God. Through His sacrifice, He took away the sins of the world, reconciling humanity to God and restoring a close relationship with their Creator.
The word for sacrifice in Hebrew is “korban. ” Its root comes from the word “karov,” which means closeness or relative. So, the word itself is an expression of what it produces: closeness between man and God. Since the fall of mankind, sacrifice has been a way in which God expresses love for man, and man expresses love for God, bringing the two closer in relationship.
Passover is more than a feast of remembrance — it’s a divine invitation. Through His sacrifice, Yeshua became our korban, the way back to intimacy with the Father. The Lamb of God laid down His life so that nothing would stand between us and the Father. Now, it’s our turn to draw near. Let this season stir your heart to offer spiritual sacrifices—prayer, worship, obedience, and love. Make space to be with Him. He has already made the way; all that remains is for us to come close. So come boldly, gratefully, and often—for He delights in those who seek His presence.
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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.