Philippians 3:13-14 Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.
There are two kinds of birds that roam the desert: vultures and hummingbirds. The vulture thrives on a diet of rotting meat. He flies overhead searching for traces of leftover carcasses from slow-footed critters eaten by wild animals who’ve already had their fill.
Hummingbirds, on the other hand, will sweep through the desert, passing over all those repulsive, dead animals and seek colorful patches of beautiful wild desert flowers. They will suckle the delicious juices of those sweet desert blossoms and be satisfied.
How similar we are, at times, to these two birds. There are those among us who, perhaps unknowingly, cling to the past—our regrets, our failures, our sins. We feed on memories that drain our joy and diminish our hope. Like the vulture, we sustain ourselves on what should remain buried and left behind.
Yet, we have another choice. Let us take wisdom from the hummingbird and move swiftly past the lifeless things of yesterday. Let us intentionally seek the sweet promises of new life in the Lord, focusing our hearts and minds on the abundant, vibrant future God has prepared for us. In choosing life, we find true satisfaction and renewed strength.
Let’s sweep past that which is dead and focus on the sweet new life — the exciting future that God holds for us as we continue seeking Him and moving forward in our relationship with Him!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]With so much disinformation and so many voices speaking into our lives, people often ask for my thoughts on who to trust and what to believe. In light of that, I believe it’s time to step into a deeper kind of discernment — becoming what I would call a fruit inspector. This series is born out of that burden: to learn how to recognize the difference between the wheat and the tares.
The conquest of the land did not happen in a single moment — it unfolded over years of battles, endurance, and sustained faith. What began at the Jordan required perseverance through opposition, setbacks, and continued trust in God. City by city and territory by territory, Israel advanced, not by one decisive act alone, but through a journey of ongoing reliance on the Lord.
Jericho stood as the first and most formidable barrier in the land of promise. Its walls were thick, its defenses strong, and its reputation intimidating. From a natural perspective, it was unconquerable. Israel had just entered the land, and immediately, they were confronted with a fortress that could not be overcome by conventional means.
After crossing the Jordan and being consecrated at Gilgal, Israel did not immediately march into battle. Before Jericho, before strategy, before conquest, God brought them back to worship — they kept the Passover. In the very land of promise, they paused to remember the blood. This reveals the order of God: before you fight for what He has promised, you remember what He has already done. Before inheritance is possessed, redemption is honored. The same God who brought them out of Egypt by the blood of the lamb was now bringing them into the land by His faithfulness, and worship anchored this transition.
There is something deeply intentional in God’s instruction concerning the lamb. He does not tell Israel to take a lamb at the last moment — He commands them to choose it on the 10th day of Nisan, set it apart, and live with it until the 14th day. This was not random timing; it was divine design.
There is something deeply powerful in the way God introduces Passover (Pesach) in Exodus. He does not begin with a list of instructions. He begins with divine intervention. Israel is enslaved, bound under Pharaoh, and crushed beneath a system they have no power to escape. Yet right in the middle of that helplessness, God speaks: “This month shall be for you the beginning of months.”
Yeshua (Jesus) does not conclude this parable with separation alone — He brings it to its true climax in glory. After the harvest, after the revealing, after everything has been set in its proper place, He lifts our eyes beyond the process and into the purpose with a powerful promise: the righteous will shine. This is the heart of the harvest — not merely the removal of what does not belong, but the unveiling of what truly does.