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.
Copyright 1999-2025 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
How to display the above article within the Worthy Suite WordPress Plugin.
[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Elijah had just come through one of the most intense seasons of his life. He had called down fire from heaven on Mount Carmel, seen the prophets of Baal defeated, and yet found himself running in fear from Jezebel, exhausted and discouraged. In the cave at Horeb, he cried out, believing he was alone and that all was lost. But it was there—in the still small voice—that God revealed His presence and His plan.
Over the weekend, the United States launched a bold operation aimed at ending Iran’s nuclear program. In the quiet of the night, unseen by human eyes, B-2 Spirit bombers initiated Operation Midnight Hammer—a precision strike designed to eliminate hidden threats before they could bring harm. With unmatched stealth, they cut through the darkness, delivering a decisive blow against danger.
Every true move of revival begins where few look for it—at the hidden brook, in the quiet place of God’s pruning. Cherith (נַחַל כְּרִית) means to cut off, to separate, to covenant. Before Elijah could stand on Mount Carmel and call down fire, he had to be separated, set apart for God’s purposes.
Before God’s servants can stand in high places before men, they must first bow low before Him. Elijah, fresh from proclaiming God’s judgment to Ahab, might have felt indispensable to God’s plan. Yet the following command was unexpected: “Hide yourself.” The brook Cherith became Elijah’s place of humbling, where pride was stripped away, self-reliance was broken, and his soul learned the sweetness of depending on God alone.
God’s servants must learn to walk by faith–one step at a time. This is a simple lesson, yet one that challenges even the most faithful. Consider Elijah: before he left his quiet home in Thisbe to stand before King Ahab with the word of the Lord, how many questions must have stirred his heart!
As we continue our journey through the life of Elijah, let us take heart in this: Elijah was a man just like us. He was not born with heroic strength or unshakable resolve. He knew weakness, fear, and moments of failure—the same struggles we face. And yet, this one man, by faith, stood alone against a tide of sin and idolatry. By faith, he turned a nation back to God.
Over the past few years, some leaders who once inspired many have fallen into scandals that have brought harm and confusion to the body of Christ. In moments like these, it’s easy to feel disillusioned or lost, as if the work of God depends on human vessels who have failed us. But I’m reminded of how Elisha responded when Elijah was taken from him. His eyes were not on the departing servant but on the living God. “Where is the Lord God of Elijah?” he cried — not, “Where is Elijah?” That cry holds a lesson for us today: our hope and strength are not in human leaders, but in the God who works through them—and who remains faithful even when men falter.