Exodus 12:2-3 “This month shall be for you the beginning of months. It shall be the first month of the year for you. 3 Tell all the congregation of Israel that on the tenth day of this month every man shall take a lamb according to their fathers’ houses, a lamb for a household.
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.”
In that moment, God reveals a dual prophetic reality. On one level, He is establishing His calendar — declaring Nisan as the first month, the beginning of months for Israel. But on a deeper level, He is declaring something far more personal: this is the beginning of your spiritual life. Redemption becomes the true starting point of existence. Life is no longer defined by bondage, but by deliverance.
And how does this beginning unfold? It starts with a Lamb. The choosing of the lamb, the applying of the blood, and even the precise timing of the sacrifice all carry profound prophetic weight. God is not only delivering Israel — He is unveiling a pattern of redemption that would echo through all generations.
The Hebrew name for Egypt, Mitzrayim (מִצְרַיִם), means a narrow place, a place of restriction. Israel was not only physically trapped but spiritually confined. Yet God does not wait for them to break free. He declares that He Himself will come into the midst of Egypt. This pattern echoes throughout all Scripture and finds its ultimate fulfillment in Yeshua (Jesus). God does not stand at a distance demanding ascent; He enters the prison to bring deliverance. He steps into bondage so that His people can step into freedom.
The very word Passover — Pesach (פֶּסַח) — reveals the heart of God. It means to pass over, to hover over, to protect. This is not passive avoidance but active covering. When God says He will pass over, He is not merely skipping houses; He is standing guard over them. Judgment is moving through Egypt, yet wherever the blood is present, God positions Himself as a shield. This is more than deliverance — it is covenant protection. It is God declaring that where the blood is applied, His presence will stand between His people and destruction.
God then does something astonishing: He resets time itself. “This month shall be the beginning of months.” Redemption becomes the starting point of Israel’s calendar. In Hebraic understanding, time is not merely chronological — it is covenantal. Life is not defined by natural birth but by redemption. This is why the New Covenant echoes the same truth: in Yeshua, all things become new. Passover is not simply an event to remember; it is a divine reset of identity, purpose, and destiny.
And at the center of it all stands the lamb. Israel did not suggest it, and Moses did not invent it. God provided it. This introduces the deeper Hebraic reality of the sacrifice — in Hebrew, Korban (קרבן)— means to draw near. The sacrifice is not about loss but about access. Even in Exodus, the root truth is clear: man does not create access to God; God provides the means to draw near to Him. This is why the Gospel is not built on human effort but on divine provision.
This is where everything begins. Before cleansing the house, before walking in holiness, before understanding deeper truths, there must be an encounter with the God who delivers. And there is an urgency here that cannot be ignored. You cannot deliver yourself from Egypt. You cannot reason your way out of bondage or improve yourself into freedom. God must step in –and the good news is that He already has. The same God who entered Egypt has entered humanity through Yeshua. The same God who stood between judgment and His people has provided the blood that still speaks today.
Beloved, You don’t have to wonder if God will show up. He already has. The real invitation is to recognize His presence in the middle of what you’re walking through. Redemption doesn’t start when you finally get everything right or reach high enough—it begins the moment you realize that God has already come near to you, already made a way, already stepped in on your behalf. Right where you are — He is there. And this can truly be your beginning.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Isaiah recalls the Exodus as the supreme display of God’s Z’roah, His Arm of glory. Though the people saw Moses raise his staff over the Red Sea, it was not Moses’ power that split the waters. Behind the prophet’s hand was the Arm of the LORD — majestic, glorious, and unstoppable. The sea parted not to honor Moses, but to exalt the Name of the God who sent him. The Red Sea became a stage for God to reveal His glory, so that His Name would echo through generations as the Deliverer of His people.
Jeremiah uttered these words when everything around him looked hopeless. Babylon’s armies surrounded Jerusalem, the city was on the brink of destruction, and yet God told Jeremiah to buy a field as a prophetic sign that restoration would come. The prophet responded in awe: the God who created the heavens and the earth by His outstretched arm (bizroa netuyah) is not bound by human circumstances. The same God who set galaxies in place and boundaries for the seas is the God who still moves to redeem His people. Truly, nothing is too hard for Him.
Isaiah’s words summon one of the most dramatic images of God’s saving power: the Z’roah — the Arm of the LORD — cutting Rahab in pieces and piercing the dragon.
Here, Rahab is not the woman of Jericho but a poetic name for Egypt (Psalm 87:4), often symbolizing arrogant nations and the dark spiritual powers behind them. In Hebrew poetry, Rahab also evokes the sea monster of chaos, a stand-in for the forces that oppose God’s order. To say the Arm “cut Rahab in pieces” is to recall how God shattered Egypt’s pride and broke the grip of the powers that enslaved His people.
Psalm 98 is a victory psalm — a call to lift up a “new song” because the Z’roah, the holy arm of the LORD, has brought decisive triumph. In Hebrew thought, the arm is the active extension of the will, the power that brings intention into reality. To call it “holy” is to declare that it is set apart, dedicated fully to God’s purpose, incapable of corruption. The psalmist celebrates that salvation is not a hidden act, but an open demonstration — God’s righteousness revealed before the eyes of the nations.
This is one of the most intimate revelations of the Z’roah in Scripture. God looks for a human intercessor but finds none. No man can bridge the gap. So His own Arm accomplishes the work. In Hebrew, v’tosha lo zeroa — “His arm saved for Him” — reveals that salvation originates from within God Himself, not from any outside help. Isaiah adds that His own righteousness sustained Him — it upheld His resolve to save — and His fury upheld Him, a holy passion that would not rest until justice was accomplished.
To “bare” the arm means to roll up the sleeve and reveal the full readiness for action. In Isaiah’s prophecy, this is a global unveiling — no longer hidden, the Z’roah is on display for all nations to witness. This speaks directly of Yeshua’s (Jesus’) public ministry and, ultimately, His crucifixion.
The Hebrew phrase “z’roah moshel lo” paints the picture of an arm that governs with both strength and care. The same Z’roah that brought Israel out of Egypt in power now establishes righteous order and sustains His people in love. Deliverance without rulership is incomplete; the Redeemer becomes the King — and the King rules as a Shepherd. The Arm does not act independently but moves in perfect submission to the Head, carrying out the will of the Father.