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.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Thousands of people all over the world will celebrate Pesach (Passover) tonight, commemorating the day the Angel of Death passed over the Israelite slaves in Egypt, sparing their firstborn because the blood of a lamb was applied on their doorposts. Many believers in Yeshua (Jesus) also recognize this as the day that Messiah was crucified, offering Himself as the perfect Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, which reconciled man to His Maker, and restored them to close relationship.
Tomorrow night, thousands will begin celebrating the feast of Pesach (Passover), the day we remember God’s merciful redemption of the Jewish people from Egypt. When the final plague struck Pharoh and the Egyptians in Exodus, those who were spared were the ones who applied blood to their doorposts as God warned. Interestingly, the blood that God required them to apply then was the blood of a spotless, unblemished lamb.
In the parable of the unmerciful servant, the servant mistakenly thought that he could demand justice from another servant all the while asking mercy for himself from the king. When the king found out about this servant’s awful behavior, he became enraged and said to him “You wicked servant, I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to; couldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?”
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.
In Biblical Hebrew, the verb tenses are not like our “past”, “present”, and “future” – there are only two: “perfect” and “imperfect”. The “imperfect” tense is that which is not yet, not done, or not completed. The “perfect” is that which is done, complete and finished.
In 2nd Samuel Chapter 9 we read of the story of King David and Mephibosheth. Mephibosheth was the son of Jonathan and the grandson of the first king of Israel, King Saul. After Jonathan’s death, David went forth to show kindness to Saul’s house. Mephibosheth had become lame at the young age of five — he had lived his entire life as a cripple.
The burglar froze in place, allowing the woman to call the police and report the burglary calmly. When the police arrived and detained the man, the officer curiously asked him, “Why did you stop when she cited scripture?” The burglar, still shaken, replied, “Scripture? I thought she said she had an ax and two .38s!”