John 10:10 The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.
I came across a powerful parable written by a Haitian pastor illustrating to his congregation the need for total commitment to the Lord.
A certain man wanted to sell his house for two thousand dollars. Another man wanted very badly to buy it but couldn't afford the full price the owner was asking. After much bargaining, however, he agreed to sell the house to the poor man for half the original price -- along with just one stipulation: He would retain ownership of one small nail protruding from just over the door.
After several years, the original owner wanted the house back, but the new owner was unwilling to sell. So the first owner went out, found the carcass of a dead dog, and hung it from the single nail he still owned. Soon the house became unlivable, and the family was forced to sell the house to the owner of the nail.
The Haitian pastor concluded that "If we leave the Devil with even one small peg in our life, he will return to hang his rotting garbage on it, making it unfit for Christ's habitation."
The devil has only come to steal, kill and destroy. He can be very crafty, and he would love nothing more than to steal from us our very inhabitance in the Lord. Let's ask the Lord to reveal any pegs we may be leaving for the devil today and take back all that belongs to us -- for this truly is the season of repentance!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]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.
There is something deeply instructive in the restraint of the Lord. When the servants recognize the problem in the field, their instinct is immediate action. They want to fix it, remove it, clean it up. But the Lord responds in a way that challenges human urgency. He tells them to wait.