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]An ancient legend tells of a king who walked into his garden one day to find almost everything withered and dying. After speaking to an oak near the gate, the king learned that he was troubled because he was not tall and beautiful like the pine. The pine overheard their conversation and added that she, too, was upset, for she could not bear delicious fruit like the pear tree. The pear tree heard his name and began to complain that he did not have the lovely odor of the spruce. And so it went throughout the entire garden.
In the midst of a serious heat wave, wildfires are spreading across Europe causing thousands to evacuate. This reminded me of a story I once read.
I can’t begin to tell you. So many people I’ve shared the Gospel with have answered, “Well — I don’t need that, I’m a good person.” No, we’re not. We have a tendency to compare ourselves with our neighbor, thinking how nice or how giving we are compared to him or her. But none of us are good by God’s standards. Our good works are like filthy rags, according to Isaiah.
If you look at the ant you will find that they dwell in colonies. Each colony consists of approximately 60,000 – 90,000 ants — they really can’t prosper on their own. They need each other. How does a colony of that many ants to work together? The only reason it works is that they operate in unity. Each ant shares the same purpose, the same goal, and the same aim.
The third great awakening took place during the late 1850s into the beginning of the 1900s. It was during this era that the wave of revivals sweeping America began spreading throughout the world. The era saw the abolition of slavery, women’s right to vote, and the end of child labor in factories.
In Israel, cell phones are all the rage. You wouldn’t believe it but parents even buy cell phones for their kids and send them to school with them in their schoolbags. I’m talking about six and seven-year-old kids! While it is true that part of the reason for this cell phone craze stems from the fact that violence goes on here daily and people want to be able to contact one another in the event of an emergency, I would still say that it’s somewhat excessive.
Charles William Eliot, former president of Harvard University, had a birthmark on his face that bothered him greatly. As a young man, he was told that surgeons could do nothing to remove it. Someone described that moment as “the dark hour of his soul.” Eliot’s mother gave him this helpful advice: “My son, it is not possible for you to get rid of that hardship…But it is possible for you, with God’s help, to grow a mind and soul so big that people will forget to look at your face.”