Exodus 12:4-6 And if the household is too small for a lamb, then he and his nearest neighbor shall take according to the number of persons; according to what each can eat you shall make your count for the lamb. 5 Your lamb shall be without blemish, a male a year old. You may take it from the sheep or from the goats, 6 and you shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month, when the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel shall kill their lambs at twilight.
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.
For four days, the lamb would be in the house. It would be seen, observed, and known. It would not remain distant — it would become familiar. The household would examine it, ensuring it was without blemish. But more than that, something deeper was happening: the lamb was becoming personal before it became sacrificial.
This is the Hebraic weight of the moment. God was not establishing a cold ritual — He was cultivating a relational reality. The lamb you offer must first be the lamb you have received. Redemption is not built on distance — it is built on encounter.
And all of these points lead us directly to Yeshua HaMashiach (Jesus Christ).
On the 10th of Nisan, He entered Jerusalem. In the days that followed, He was examined by religious leaders, questioned in the temple, and scrutinized publicly. Yet no fault was found in Him. Just as the lamb in Exodus was brought into the house and observed, so the true Lamb of God was brought before the people and revealed to be without blemish.
But there is another layer that carries profound prophetic significance. It was also on the 10th of Nisan that the children of Israel, under Joshua, crossed into the Promised Land (Joshua 4:19). On that very day, they entered into inheritance — and on that same day, they were commanded to choose the Passover lamb.
The connection is not accidental.
Entrance into promise is inseparably tied to the Lamb. You do not step into inheritance apart from sacrifice, and you do not walk in promise apart from redemption. The Lamb marks both your deliverance from Egypt and your entrance into destiny, revealing a powerful truth: the Lamb is not only the way out — He is the way in.
There is a real urgency in this hour, especially for those who already know the Lord. You may sense that God is bringing you into a new season — standing at the edge of promise, aware that something is shifting. But this moment is not just about stepping forward; it is about drawing nearer to the Lamb in a deeper, more intentional way. Israel did not enter the Promised Land apart from the Lamb — they chose the lamb on the very day they crossed over. In the same way, every new place God brings you into requires a fresh nearness, a renewed focus, a deeper surrender to Yeshua.
As we enter this Pesach (Passover) season, this is your invitation to step into that same intentional pattern—because just as God instructed Israel to choose the lamb ahead of time, He is calling you to draw near to Him in a real and deliberate way. As you do, what God has already done in your life won’t remain a distant memory—it will become stronger and more alive within you. You’ll begin to see more clearly who you are in Him, feel more grounded in your walk, and the path ahead will start to open with greater clarity. This nearness is what positions you to step into what He has for you in this season—leading you into your calling and your destiny—but it all begins the same way it did then: by choosing the Lamb fresh and new.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
One night a house caught fire and a young boy was forced to flee flames by jumping to the ground from the roof. His father stood on the ground below with outstretched arms, calling to his son, “Jump! I’ll catch you.” But the boy was afraid — he couldn’t see his father — all he could see was flame, smoke, and blackness. He was afraid. Still, his father kept yelling: “Jump son! I will catch you!” But the boy refused, crying, “Daddy, I can’t see you!” His father replied, “It’s ok son — I can see you — and that’s all that matters!”
After forty years of wandering in the wilderness, Israel finally crossed into the Promised Land—on the 10th day of Nissan, the very day they had been commanded to choose their Passover lamb [Exodus 12:3 , Joshua 4:19]. They couldn’t enter into their inheritance until a lamb was chosen—a powerful foreshadowing of the more excellent Lamb to come, in preparation for the Passover [Joshua 5:10], they were about to observe at Gilgal.
In the days of Yeshua (Jesus), the cross was an instrument of death, and crucifixion, a horrible method of torture. Over the next 200 years, in light of the Lord’s resurrection, the cross became identified with Christian faith and was transformed into a symbol of life and hope. Yeshua was able to turn it upside down, transforming an instrument of death into a symbol of life.
The New Testament records that when Yeshua (Jesus) died; there was a great earthquake and the veil of the Temple was torn in two. The size of this gigantic veil is not recorded in the NT…but we read from other sources that it was roughly 60 feet long and 30 feet wide with multiple woven layers the thickness of a man’s hand! It was hung on a crossbeam stone – a lintel – which was over 30 feet long and weighed more than 30 tons! It was not an easy cloth to tear…