Hebrews 11:8 By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out into a place which he was afterward going to receive for an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he went.
We often celebrate beginnings—new chapters, breakthroughs, divine appointments. But in God’s economy, every true beginning requires a holy crossing. Before the Hebrews could enter the Promised Land, they had to leave Egypt. Before they entered the Promised Land, they had to cross over the Red Sea. And before Abraham could receive God’s promises, he had to obey a single command: “Leave.”
Abraham stood at that threshold. When he obeyed God’s call to walk away from his homeland, his security, and all that was familiar, he became the first Hebrew—the first Ivri, literally one who crosses over. He stepped across the invisible boundary between the known and the unknown, the natural and the supernatural, the seen and that which was promised.
The identity of God’s people is rooted in crossing: from unbelief to faith, from bondage to freedom, from death to life. God didn’t just call Abraham to a destination—He called him to a transformation. And transformation begins when we say goodbye to what’s behind.
Leaving is not just an act of trust—it is a declaration of faith in the unseen. It’s Abraham turning his back on everything familiar—his land, his family, his future plans—to follow a voice, a promise, a God he could not see. It’s the Hebrews standing at the edge of the Red Sea, with Pharaoh’s army closing in behind them and nothing but water before them—yet stepping forward, believing that the God who delivered them once would make a way again.
Leaving is the willingness to let go before you see what’s coming next. It’s choosing to release your grip on the known in exchange for the eternal. It’s not a loss—it’s a surrender that leads to something greater.
Think about the disciples. Their journey with Yeshua (Jesus) didn’t begin with great sermons or miracles. It began when they dropped their nets. They left their boats, their routines, their comfort zones—and followed Him. Without leaving, there would have been no following. Without the exit, no entrance. It’s not just a principle of geography. It’s a paradox of the Kingdom.
How often do we pray for a breakthrough while clinging to what God is asking us to release? We want resurrection, but resist the cross. We want the Promised Land, but won’t leave our Egypt. Yet, the exodus is not punishment—it’s preparation.
God doesn’t just take things away—He delivers us from what no longer fits our future, so He can place in our hands what was always meant to be ours. He strips away what cannot stay, to make room for what cannot be shaken. What He asks you to release is never greater than what He’s preparing to give.
Perhaps for you, it’s a mindset that needs to be left behind, a fear that has kept you stuck, or a comfort zone that has become a cage. “Crossing over” means trusting that what God is leading you toward is greater than what He’s asking you to leave behind. What lies ahead with Him always outweighs what’s left behind. It’s believing the Promised Land ahead is worth every Egypt that’s left behind. It’s choosing, like Abraham, to become one who crosses over.
Copyright 1999-2025 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
How to display the above article within the Worthy Suite WordPress Plugin.
[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]In Ancient Greece, mythology and history were hard to distinguish. Tales of gods and demigods abounded. The chief god of Mount Olympus was Zeus. It is told that Zeus became enamored with the princess Europa and decided to seduce and ravish her. Zeus shape-shifted, transforming himself into a tame white bull. Europa, the daughter of King Agenor of Sidon, was picking flowers, when she saw the bull, and then climbed on his back. Zeus carried her away. The Romans later recounted the tale which became known as the “seduction of Europa”, (with the Roman “Jupiter” replacing Zeus).
Some time ago, an old mule fell into an abandoned well which was no longer in use. The farmer who owned him tried and tried to pull the mule up out of the well — however after many attempts he realized he was not going to be able to rescue his mule. So the farmer decided to solve two problems simultaneously— by burying the mule in the well. Tragic as it was, he would, bury the mule alive, and in the process, prevent future accidents of this kind by filling up the well hole.
Growing up, one of my favorite Saturday activities was watching ABC Sports. I can still remember the opening line — “The thrill of victory or the agony of defeat!” One of the greatest prophets of the Bible, Elijah, experienced his share of victories — but he also knew that sudden feeling of defeat.
When a Michigan man entered the hospital for tests one day, he never would have guessed what the doctors would find. A routine chest x-ray revealed that the man’s heart was on the wrong side of his chest! Because of a rare reversed-organ condition, his heart was in the wrong place. This is a strange story indeed, although I think some of us suffer from this condition in a spiritual way.
There is a fascinating true story about the Apostle John narrated by the early church “Father”, Eusebius, well worth reading.
When Corrie Ten Boom (author of “The Hiding Place”) was a little girl in Holland, her first realization of death came after a visit to the home of a neighbor who had died. It suddenly impressed her that some day her parents could also die. When Corrie went to her father about her concern, he comforted her with these words of wisdom. “Corrie, when you and I go to Amsterdam, when do I give you your ticket?” “Why, just before we get on the train,” she replied. “Exactly,” her father said, “and our wise Father in heaven knows when we’re going to need things too. Don’t run out ahead of Him, Corrie. When the time comes that some of us will have to die, you will look into your heart and find the strength you need–just in time.”
You've probably heard of tennis champion Boris Becker, but you may not know this. He had everything, talent, money, fame and every other worldly pleasure one could want, yet he still struggled with depression and frequent thoughts of suicide. "I had won Wimbledon twice before," he said, "once as the youngest player. I was rich. I had all the material possessions I needed ... It's the old song of movie stars and pop stars who commit suicide. They have everything, and yet they are so unhappy. I had no inner peace. I was a puppet on a string."