Exodus 12:12-13 For I will pass through the land of Egypt this night, and will smite all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast; and against all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgment: I am the LORD. And the blood shall be to you for a token upon the houses where ye are: and when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and the plague shall not be upon you to destroy you, when I smite the land of Egypt.
As our family prepared and led a Passover Seder a few years ago, the Lord reminded me of a truth which I had understood, but never had seen so clearly applied from the Passover story.
Of course, the celebration of Passover for believers normally emphasizes the revelation of our Passover Lamb -- the Lamb of God, Yeshua, who was delivered up, a Lamb without blemish, and sacrificed in our place as an offering for our sins. As Israel celebrates deliverance from slavery, we celebrate deliverance from the bondage of sin. We celebrate knowing that death no longer has power over us since we pass from this temporal world into the eternal when we die.
Furthermore, when the children of Israel were passed over, while each of the firstborn of Egypt died, Israel did not depart as penniless slaves. They left carrying with them the riches of Egypt! Likewise, we who were spiritually "penniless" when we came to the Lamb, instantaneously inherited riches beyond our imagination. These are two of the wonderful lessons from the Passover event.
As I studied in preparation for our Seder another truth has struck me powerfully-- the blood needed to be applied! If the children of Israel had merely believed in the power of the lamb's blood, and the word of Moses, but never applied it to their doorposts, the angel of death would still have killed their firstborn! A passive belief in the blood would not have saved them -- action was required -- the blood needed to be applied to their doorpost. Once the blood was applied, a line was drawn across which the angel of death could not pass!
Most of us have an understanding of the power of the blood. But are we actively applying the blood to our lives and circumstances as a hedge of protection around us? No, not as a magic formula, but prayerfully in the spirit, as a cleansing and protective reality over our lives, families, loved ones, homes, cities, and nations.
Assume your authority as a child of God this Passover season, and apply the blood over any area of your life that needs His supernatural protection and provision. Don't take a passive approach in these last days, but be actively walking in the power of the blood, this Passover, and in the coming days....for truly, if there was ever a time we needed to be walking in His power, protection and victory, it's Today!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]These verses capture one of the most profound Messianic truths in all of Scripture. What man cast aside, God exalted. What the builders saw as flawed and unfit, God chose as the foundation of His eternal plan. Yeshua (Jesus), the rejected One, is the very cornerstone upon which salvation, identity, and destiny are built. This is more than a theological concept — it’s a divine reversal that reveals the heart of redemption. Rejection by man does not disqualify–it often qualifies you for God’s greatest purposes.
These verses are far more than ancient lyrics — they are a spiritual invitation. The psalmist doesn’t just admire the gate — he pleads for it to open. “Open to me the gates of righteousness…” This is the cry of a heart that longs for access to God, not by merit, but by mercy. In Hebrew thought, gates represent transition points — thresholds between the common and the holy, the outside and the inner court, the temporal and the eternal. These are not man-made doors — they are divine entrances into the presence and promises of the LORD.
As we continue our study in Psalm 118, I want to take a deep dive into verses 17-18, where the psalmist makes one of the boldest declarations in all of Scripture: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD.” This isn’t the voice of someone untouched by pain — it’s the cry of someone who has been through the fire and come out declaring God’s faithfulness. This statement is not a denial of suffering; it’s a defiance of death. It’s the resolve of a heart that’s been chastened, refined, and pressed, yet remains confident in the God who preserves life — not just for survival, but for purpose.
Over the past two devotionals, we heard the song of the redeemed and stood at the wells of salvation. We saw how strength, song, and salvation flow from Yeshua Himself — how the joy of drawing from His presence is not just a poetic promise but a lifeline for our day. Yet today, we stand at a prophetic threshold. Something has shifted. Something has broken open. We are not only being refreshed — we are being awakened and called.
Yesterday, we heard the anthem of the redeemed rise like a trumpet blast: “The LORD is my strength and song, and He has become my salvation.” We explored how this was more than personal — it was prophetic, Messianic, and generational. We saw Yeshua not only as our Deliverer but as the very embodiment of God’s strength, the melody of our praise, and the fulfillment of every promise. We stood in awe as tents of rejoicing rose in the midst of warfare, and households became sanctuaries of celebration. But today, we go deeper — we step to the well.
There’s a reason this verse resounds like a national anthem of the redeemed. It’s not just a personal declaration—it’s a generational cry that echoes back to Moses at the Red Sea (Exodus 15:2) and forward to the final deliverance of Israel. The Hebrew word for salvation—Yeshua—makes this verse unmistakably Messianic. It isn’t a vague deliverance. It is the revelation of Yeshua (Jesus), the Deliverer, who embodies strength, becomes our song, and stands as the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan.
The cry that shattered the stillness of Golgotha—“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46)—was not a random cry of despair, but the deliberate voice of Yeshua pointing to Scripture. As He hung on the tree, bearing the sin of the world, He invoked the ancient words of David—not only identifying Himself as the righteous sufferer, but signaling that Psalm 22 was unfolding before their very eyes. In that moment, heaven and earth bore witness to a divine mystery: the Holy One, seemingly abandoned, was fulfilling a prophecy written a millennium earlier. Yeshua did not merely suffer—He fulfilled every word, every shadow, every stroke of divine prophecy.