Luke 12:6-7 Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God? But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.
A good friend sent us this story.
A well-known speaker started off his seminar by holding up a $20 bill. In the room of two hundred, he asked, "Who would like this $20 bill?" Hands immediately started going up.
"I am going to give this $20 bill to one of you but first, let me do this." He proceeded to crumple the dollar bill up. He then asked, "Who still wants it?" Still, hands were up in the air.
"Well," he replied, "What if I do this?" And he dropped it on the ground, spit on it and started to grind it into the floor with his shoe. He picked it up, now crumpled and dirty. "Still want it now?" Surprisingly, hands still didn't go down.
"My friends, I think we've all learned a valuable lesson here. No matter what I did to this money, you still wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was worth twenty whole dollars no matter what I did to it."
"Often in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, spit upon and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We feel as though we are worthless.
But here's the kicker. No matter what has happened, we will never lose value in God's eyes. To Him, dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, we are still priceless. The worth of our lives does not come in who we are but by whose we are! Let's give our lives back to the Lord today, our disappointments, our suffering, our feelings of worthlessness. He is the God of healing. He has made us clean and worthy of our calling in Him!
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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.
Yeshua (Jesus) brings this parable to a decisive and unavoidable climax: a moment is coming when everything in the field will be uncovered for what it truly is. The harvest is not merely the end of a process — it is the unveiling. What has been growing quietly over time will suddenly stand in full clarity, with no room left for confusion, assumption, or misjudgment. In that moment, the distinction will be undeniable.