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]Throughout the history of the modern state of Israel, there have been accounts of angelic interventions protecting Israeli soldiers in the midst of intense warfare. One instance recounted by an Israeli military historian after the 1973 Yom Kippur war, describes an Israeli soldier in the Sinai taking captive an entire Egyptian column and leading them to where the Israeli troops were. The Egyptian commander was asked why he and his men gave themselves up to the lone Israeli soldier. He responded with surprise, ”One soldier? There were thousands of them.”
Our life, the life of faith, is pervaded by paradox. Life faces us with apparently irreconcilable conditions and realities that we struggle to understand and integrate, sometimes throughout an entire lifetime. The Lord himself exemplifies this reality in his dual identity as the expressed image of God and a fully human male who suffered the worst consequences of sin...without deserving them. We live daily within the paradox of God's perfect holiness and our fundamental human imperfection, constantly needing to accept His grace as we strive toward His perfection.
During 1941 the United States and Japan were in negotiations to resolve their difference as the rest of the world was at war. The special delegation of Japanese ambassadors, ostensibly sent on this “peace” mission, arrived shortly before the massive surprise attack on Pearl Harbor in which 2,403 Americans were killed, 1143 were wounded, eighteen ships were sunk or grounded, and 300 planes destroyed or damaged. President Franklin Roosevelt called it a “date which will live in infamy.”
The world these days is full of bad news, with tensions growing in the Middle East, economies on the brink of collapse, and nature constantly adding to the chaos with one disaster after another. It's a time of trouble all right, and for us believers it may sometimes be hard to believe – but it never is as bad as it seems. Let me illustrate with a joke I like to share with my messages.
When I’m dealing with what is beyond a normal, average trial, I need to muster a more militant attitude, and I remind myself of this promise; the Lord has given me authority to TREAD upon the enemy … to walk in His victory over every trial and tribulation that life brings.
Moses was used mightily by the Lord, yet we all know he had his inadequacies and limitations too. Still he was the vessel through which God chose to work through as He carried out the plagues over Egypt, divided the Red Sea and miraculously led and fed the children of Israel for forty years. That's pretty big stuff. Can you imagine having to be Moses' successor after all that? That's exactly what Joshua had to do. I can't even begin to imagine what Joshua was thinking at the time -- How can I possibly live up to Moses? But the Lord comforts and reassures Joshua and says, "as I was with Moses, so I will be with you!"
An artist went searching the streets of New York City for a model to pose for a portrait he wanted to call -- 'The Prodigal'. One day was passing Central Park and saw an impoverished beggar lying on a bench and thought: 'He's perfect! That man would represent the prodigal son beautifully in my painting.' He asked the beggar if he would be willing to sit for his painting and he would gladly pay him for his time. Naturally, the beggar agreed.