Obeying God’s Unusual Leadings

Paul Luckraft reviews ‘Mount Sinai in Arabia’ by Joel Richardson (Winepress, 2019)

Frances Rabbitts reviews a compelling DVD series about the events recorded in Exodus.

Freedom won’t be won without a furious fight

Watching the television news of teeming London crowds calling for a second referendum over Brexit sent my spirit plummeting towards despondency – until the Lord reminded me of the Exodus!

I saw that they were slaves in a foreign land who had become so moulded by subservience to godless ideologies imposed on them that they were blinded to the fact that they were in chains.

And this filled me with hope, as I realised that the deliverance from Egypt of millions of Jews after 430 years of enslavement was no quick-fix arrangement – just like the tortuous negotiations involved in extricating ourselves from Europe (and we’ve only been tied up with them for 45 years!).

Let My People Go!

Moses was called by God to demand that Pharaoh let his people go, and what followed was a protracted battle of frightening proportions. And the Lord was well aware of this, for he said: “I know that the King of Egypt will not let you go unless a mighty hand compels him” (Ex 3:19).

In the same way, a ferocious spiritual battle for the soul of our nation is being enacted before our eyes. Back then, it took a disastrous ten plagues for Pharaoh to act, and that is something of what we are experiencing now, certainly in the spiritual realm of a nation whose heart has become hardened to the Gospel and the blessing it has brought on Britain over the centuries.

Plagues of blood, frogs, gnats, flies, the death of livestock, boils, hail and locusts were not enough to budge the king. The ninth plague – darkness – is perhaps where we are now in the UK with all the chaos, confusion and lack of clarity. But it’s also a sign of hope, as darkness eventually gives way to dawn, and it was the tenth plague that unlocked the door to freedom for the Israelites.

The deliverance from Egypt of millions of Jews after 430 years of enslavement was no quick-fix arrangement – just like the tortuous negotiations to extricate Britain from Europe.

The Sacrificial Lamb

The death of the first-born proved a step too far for the Egyptians, but what brought death to unbelievers was a lifeline for those who trusted in the God of Israel.

The Jews were instructed to daub the lintels and doorframes of their houses with the blood of a sacrificed lamb, and the angel of death would ‘pass over’ all who carried out God’s command. They were thus also able to pass through the Red Sea as on dry ground on their way towards the Promised Land.

The blood was the sign. Blood that had brought death to the Nile now brought life to all who trusted in God’s provision of a spotless, perfect lamb, prefiguring the coming of the Messiah, Jesus, who has taken away the sins of all who trust in him (Ex 12:13; John 1:29).

Former Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson, who this week called on the PM to 'channel the spirit of Moses' and declare to Europe 'Let my people go!'Perhaps for Britain too, the Lord is looking for a Moses figure (not necessarily the Prime Minister, but who knows?) to lead us out of Egypt. We have worshipped Europe’s humanistic idols for too long. God has a destiny for Britain – in the past we have stood alone against tyranny and led the way in missionary zeal by taking the Gospel of Christ to the four corners of the earth. We even played a significant role in the restoration of God’s ancient people!

If we would only return to our first love for Jesus, and for the Judeo-Christian values which made our nation great, there is ‘a land of milk and honey’ within our grasp – of a people once again living at peace with each other, at ease with itself and devoted to the God of our fathers.

Miracle Needed!

Yes, there will be those who will long for the ‘leeks and onions’ – the way things were. But inheriting a land of promise will not come without a fight. Even after finally giving in to Moses, Pharaoh changed his mind and chased the Israelites all the way to the sea.

A miracle was still needed – and it came when Moses lifted up his staff and the waves parted. This prefigures the resurrection of Christ, on whom we once trusted as a nation.

That is the way out of the present stalemate – not a second referendum, or a half-baked deal. I like the way American preacher John Hagee put it when referring to Christ’s return on the TBN UK channel: “He’s not coming to say, ‘Let’s make a deal’. He’s coming to say, ‘This is the deal!’”¹

I also believe God is saying that at some stage we will be asked to ‘leave quickly’ (Ex 12:33) and that we should be ready to go at any moment (Ex 12:11), that we should not leave ‘empty-handed’ (Ex 3:21) and that, in some form, our eventual exit will have been the ‘long way round’ (Ex 13:17f). Or am I reading too much into these Scriptures? You decide.

If we would only return to our first love for Jesus, and for the Judeo-Christian values which made our nation great, there is ‘a land of milk and honey’ within our grasp.

Hope for the Future

Still on the subject of slavery, the late Selwyn Hughes pointed out that the abolition of the slave trade came about, not through the enslaved organising a revolt, but through the passion of a man set free by Christ to defy furious opposition over many decades in pursuit of his noble goal.²

LAND OF MILK AND HONEY: The verdant hills of Galilee. Photo: Charles Gardner

For all that we betrayed Israel in many ways over the past century, we did pave the way for her national restoration. But God was only able to use us in this way because of the biblical revelation of his purposes for the Jews given to faithful evangelical Christians of the 18^th and 19^th centuries.

Tragically, Christ’s first coming was met by a national rejection from his own people which led to their exile for nearly 2,000 years. Just as tragic is Britain’s current national rejection of Christ.

But think on this. That first Passover led to a national revival for Israel as they all trusted in God’s provision of a blood-soaked sacrifice, and prefigures a national revival still to come, predicted by the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Romans, when “all Israel will be saved” (Rom 11:26).

Could Britain also be blessed with national revival through trusting once more in the blood of Jesus for her redemption?

References

1 TBN UK, 24 March 2019.

2 Every Day with Jesus, 24 March 2019, referring to William Wilberforce.

Appreciating the rich symbolism of Old Covenant metaphors and their fulfilment in Jesus – and in us.

At Christmas time especially, we all have an enhanced appreciation of light and its capacity to decorate and illuminate, brightening up the gloom. As our Editor-in-Chief expands on elsewhere in this final 2018 issue of Prophecy Today UK, the scriptures emphasise that God is light, and in that light we find life (1 John 1:5; John 1:4).

That we might learn this lesson, the Lord has written it into the DNA of Creation. Life on this planet is completely dependent upon light: for energy, warmth and food. It is from light that Earth gets its vibrant colours, its daily and seasonal rhythms and its water cycle. Since the dawn of civilisation, light has been central to human culture and communication, giving comfort, guidance and security – whether warming fires or the gentle glow of evening lamps.

Put simply, in light is our life: and this physical and social lesson points us towards a greater spiritual reality.

The Bible reminds us that the world’s physical light originated in the spoken, creative word of God. The immortal words of Genesis 1: “Let there be light!” spoke light into darkness and life into a lifeless void. Revelation reminds us that at the end of history, physical light sources will be replaced by God himself (Rev 21:23, 22:5). Intentionally, the Bible is book-ended with references to God as the eternal and true source of Light.

In light is our life: and this physical and social lesson points us towards a greater spiritual reality.

But not just the Light – God is our light, personally as well as universally. We see this most clearly in Exodus, where God’s presence leads the Children of Israel through the wilderness towards the Promised Land, appearing as a pillar of fire by night “to give them light on the way they were to take” (Neh 9:12).

It is here that we learn that God desires to lead his children in the way they should go, illuminating their path. This idea was built into the communal life and worship of Israel through the rich symbolism of the menorah. Though this is celebrated most prominently at Hanukkah, it is worth meditating on again as we approach Christmas and celebrate the coming of Messiah, the True Light, into the world.

The emblem of the State of Israel.God with Us

The distinctive seven-branched candleholder is apparently the oldest continuously used religious symbol in the Western world (perhaps the entire world) and serves as the main symbol on the official emblem of the State of Israel, referencing the miraculous endurance of the Jewish people. Scripturally, it first appears in Exodus 25, where God instructs Moses on how to make this elaborate lamp to light the Tabernacle, the community’s place of worship and meeting with God.

Shining continuously in the centre of the Israelite encampment, the menorah signified the presence of God dwelling in the midst of his people. It was David who later sang: “You are my lamp, O Lord, the Lord shall enlighten my darkness” (2 Sam 22:29).

Known in rabbinic culture as the ‘light of the world’, the menorah was a constant reminder to Israel of their God-given mandate to display his glory, truth and faithfulness to the nations. And it was close to the menorah in the Temple courts in Jerusalem that the Son of God later dared to declare “I am the light of the world. He who follows me shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life” (John 8:12).

Beautiful Detail

But there is more meaning within God’s instructions for the menorah that often gets missed. Made of pure gold and all of one piece despite its ornate details, the menorah speaks of God’s majesty, purity and his all-sufficiency. We have no need to attach anything to the Lord; he is more than enough.

Beaten and hammered into shape, the menorah speaks of God the Son: sinless and pure, but afflicted and stricken – made perfect through suffering (Heb 2:10). Similarly, the menorah’s light was fuelled by pure olive oil, the crushed fruit of the ‘eternal’ olive tree, just as Jesus was “crushed for our iniquities” (Isa 53:5). The oil also speaks of his anointing as our King and Great High Priest.

Shining continuously in the centre of the Israelite encampment, the menorah signified the presence of God dwelling in the midst of his people.

The unique, distinctive shape of the menorah - three branches on one side, three on the other and one in the middle – is also full of meaning. The six branches, biblically the number of fallenness, symbolise imperfect humanity while the seventh represents Yeshua, dwelling in our midst, making us perfect. The six branches are traditionally dependent on the central candle, the shamash or ‘servant’, from which the others are lit, just as Yeshua, the Servant of Isaiah 42, humbled himself to become “a light to the Gentiles”.

So, hidden in the branches of the menorah is a picture of our Servant King, and a picture of us, his people, together living in the pattern of our Master: children of the light (Eph 5:8). This new community of faith shines forth light in the darkness, as God always intended. Indeed, some see in the menorah a picture of the olive tree of Romans 11, in which Jew and Gentile are joined together in Yeshua, or the vine of John 15, symbolising Yeshua as the source of life and love for all believers.

The menorah is quite obviously shaped like a tree – which in Scripture connotes both life and wisdom (e.g. Prov 3:18). The ornate almond blossoms are reminders of our authority as a priesthood of believers, just as Aaron’s staff budded with almond blossoms to symbolise God’s approval for the Levitical priesthood. Some see the buds and blossoms on the menorah as a symbol of believers being the ‘first fruits’ of a greater harvest to come, since almond trees blossom early, heralding the spring.

In the menorah we also see a tree that is continuously ablaze but not consumed: a vivid reminder of the burning bush where God met Moses so powerfully, as well as the Day of Pentecost when tongues of fire appeared over the heads of the disciples. We are reminded that as living sacrifices, God desires to indwell us with his glory - not consuming us but shining out through our lives to the rest of the world. We are also reminded of the need to be filled continuously with the oil of the Holy Spirit, that we might be prepared for his return (Matt 25).

Children of Light

The menorah is a beautiful Old Covenant picture of God dwelling with/in man and man dwelling in/with God: a picture fulfilled in Jesus’ first coming and also in us, “sons of light and sons of the day” (1 Thess 5:5). “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness’, made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of Christ” (2 Cor 4:6).

As we receive the light and life of Yeshua within our souls and become part of his Living Menorah, so we ought naturally to shine in the midst of a dark world, radiating his light to the lost. Just like the nation of Israel was and is called to be a light to all other nations, so we are called to “let our light shine before men, so they will see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven” (Matt 5:14-16).

The menorah is a beautiful Old Covenant picture of God dwelling with/in man and man dwelling in/with God: a picture fulfilled in Jesus’ first coming and also in us.

Christmas affords us all opportunity in this respect, that through us others might be drawn to “the true Light which gives light to every man” (John 1:9).

What an incredible gift: that our God, who “dwells in unapproachable light” (1 Tim 6:16), laid aside his garments of light (Ps 104:2) and took on human flesh, that we might become “children of God without fault in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine as stars in the universe, holding fast the word of life” (Phil 2:15-16). Glory! This is what Christmas should celebrate – and it is what the world desperately needs.

'Why is this night different from all other nights?'

This is the question the youngest child in every Jewish home asks in song at Passover, as families gather to celebrate this ancient festival commanded by God in perpetuity: "This is a day you are to commemorate; for the generations to come you shall celebrate it as a festival to the Lord—a lasting ordinance" (Ex 12:14).

Jewish history and identity are rooted in this unique festival. Remembering God's deliverance of his enslaved people has been the glue holding the Jewish community together for centuries, enabling them to survive exile and persecution (click here for a longer study of Passover).

Yeshua (Jesus) used the setting of Passover (in the synoptic gospels) to announce the new covenant in his blood. Christian identity is therefore also rooted in this festival. Many churches now hold Passover celebrations, but it can be hard for Jewish people to understand why Christians want to celebrate Passover. Most perceive it as a celebration exclusively of Jewish freedom. Some are pleased by Christians' desire to mark this festival, while others are wary.

It is still primarily a festival of Jewish freedom. However, it is foundational to the identity of believers in Jesus, both Jew and Gentile. Exodus tells us that, "There were about six hundred thousand men on foot, besides women and children", but also that "Many other people went up with them" (Ex 12:37-38). These would have been Egyptians. So Gentiles (non-Jews) were part of the Exodus.

Passover is primarily a festival of Jewish freedom – however, it is foundational to the identity of believers in Jesus, both Jew and Gentile.

The story has not changed. Gentiles still join the Jewish Exodus - through faith in Messiah. The blood of lambs is no longer daubed on homes, but the blood of the "Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world" (John 1:29) is a sign carried in the hearts of believers in Yeshua. It is his blood that sets us free because "Messiah is our Passover Lamb" (2 Cor 5:7).

Gentiles do not replace Israel in the story; they join with Israel because the Messiah "is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility" (Eph 2:14).

Why is This God Different From All Other gods?

Passover reveals the character of the God of Israel. Christians think of God's defining characteristic as being love. In the New Testament, John declares that "God is Love" (1 John 4:8). Yet the word 'love' does not appear often in the Hebrew Bible or Old Testament. That is because another word is being used, which is hesed, meaning loving-kindness or mercy expressed in covenant faithfulness. The nearest New Testament equivalent is charis, meaning grace.

At Passover, the Lord demonstrated his unique redemptive power and faithful character. Miriam celebrates God's goodness in song: "In your unfailing love (hesed) you will lead the people you have redeemed" (Ex 15:13).

In the new (or renewed) covenant announced in Jeremiah, the Lord declared, "I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness" (hesed) (Jer 31:3).

We often talk about an angry God who must be appeased, but a capricious, angry deity is more in keeping with pagan ideas of God. The Lord's defining characteristic is hesed, loving-kindness expressed in covenant faithfulness. When we break his covenant, the Lord is righteously angry at sin, not angry with us, because we are loved, but angry at sin's power in us to hurt, defile and destroy ourselves and others. He must judge sin in us. However, he is not a God of justice one day and a God of love the next. He is both at once: justice and love co-existing without conflict.

Our God is not a God of justice one day and a God of love the next. He is both at once: justice and love co-existing without conflict.

His justifiably righteous anger at sin and his perfect justice are preceded by his love. So his love precedes justice and his justice proceeds from love. In other words, he must judge because he loves. How can he love and not judge on sin and injustice? How can he let those he loves be sinned against and not burn with justifiable anger? So he executes perfect justice in and from hesed, covenantal love and faithfulness. As we remember the events of Passover, let us remember in awestruck wonder the loving-kindness and sacrificial faithfulness that took our Messiah to the Cross to be our Passover Lamb.

'Out of the Desert' by Mike Dwight (New Wine Press, 2015, 79 pages, £5.99, available from Roperpenberthy for £5)

Mike has served as a missionary with WEC International for over 35 years in Europe and Asia. His ministry has involved church planting and leadership training, most recently with WEC Betel International. This book, his first, is based on the talks he gave at their 2013 conference, which centred on Exodus 33 and God's planned journey for Moses and the people of Israel. Drawing lessons from this passage, Mike brings a powerful encouragement to all involved in mission or ministry: to get closer to God in order to serve him more effectively.

Personal Witness

It is soon apparent that God has been speaking to Mike very powerfully in recent times, showing him new things that would change his ministry even after years of experience and success. As the author tells us towards the end, "What I have shared in this book is not the product of study so much as an opening of my heart to what God has personally been doing in me over these last few years" (p77).

Stories and testimonies from Mike's life and ministry flow naturally and regularly as he takes us through the scriptural passages and key points. But these are not mere anecdotes; they enhance his message like lights on an airport runway, guiding us along the path he wants us to share. As his own personal pilgrimage unfolds, his integrity and honesty encourage us to reflect on our own journeys and where we are with God at present. Do we hear the call, as Moses did, to "leave this place" and "go up to the land I promised" (Ex 33:1)?

Mike testifies through his own journey that God is more important than any ministry or calling: we cannot go out of the desert without him."

A Fresh Revelation

But as Mike explains clearly and passionately, you cannot begin this new journey without a fresh encounter with God and revelation of him, otherwise "I will not go with you" (Ex 33:2). Mere gifting and experience is not enough. God himself needs to be at the centre of any ministry and in the heart of anyone desiring to serve him.

We are repeatedly warned that "we cannot drift casually into the purposes, calling and future plans of God, no matter how able and capable we think we may be." (p22). Time has to be spent in God's presence, listening and seeing before speaking and doing. We must rest in God before we can journey with him, allowing him to move our hearts before we move our lips or feet. This is what makes a ministry truly prophetic, one which is alive to the next stage of the journey and aware of what the world most needs from God. It is no surprise that Mike's Biblical hero is Enoch, more renowned for walking with God than doing anything else!

We must rest in God before we can journey with him, allowing him to move our hearts before we move our lips or feet."

New Impetus

The book is both hard-hitting and gently persuasive, a sure sign of being Spirit-inspired. In his foreword, Jim Graham sums it up as "not so much a book to be enjoyed as to be experienced" (p.ix). Yet, it is also an enjoyable read. The spoken word has been expertly transferred into the written word, and the resulting volume, although slim, is packed with help for those setting out in ministry as well as for those who have been in ministry for years but seeking a fresh impetus and greater fulfilment.

Here is a message from someone with a clear call on his life and who has resolutely followed it, but who has also discovered that God himself is more important than any ministry or calling. We cannot go out of the desert without him.

Passover is about flooding the memory, binding the mind to the eternal. In evoking the past, meaning is restored to the present and hope assured for the future.

The power of memory: the key to Jewish survival...

“Why is this night different from all other nights?” This is the ancient question the youngest child asks at the Passover meal. The short answer for this and most Jewish festivals is, “They tried to kill us, they didn’t succeed, let’s eat!” The serious answer is the same but more elaborate: it is a celebration of God’s deliverance, freedom and new life

Passover carries cultural resonance like no other festival, being powerfully evocative even for those who do not fully grasp its spiritual significance.

The celebration of Passover has helped to ensure the survival of the Jewish people, reminding each generation of the hope of deliverance during dark times. One of the names for Passover is the Season of our Freedom (Heb. translit. Z'man Cheiruteinu). Yet freedom for the Jewish people has been elusive. During centuries of exile and persecution, the dream of Zion was kept alive at Passover in the final poignant line of the haggadah¹: “Next year in Jerusalem”.

"Passover was a journey of hope for all generations: from slavery to freedom, from darkness to light, from exile to restoration."

Empires rose and fell but this tiny people survived through centuries of persecution and exile. Why? Because God has preserved them. One of his tools for their preservation is their continual re-enacting of his deliverance at Passover. Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote in 1967, when the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, came back under Jewish control for the first time in 2000 years during the Six Day War:

Why did our hearts and minds throughout the ages turn to Eretz Israel [the land of Israel], to the Holy Land? Because of memory…There is a slow and silent stream, a stream not of oblivion but of memory from which we must constantly drink before entering the realm of faith. To believe is to remember. The substance of our very being is memory, our way of living is retaining the reminders, articulating memory.²

Passover was not simply about the preservation of the past; it was the key to the future. It was a journey of hope for all generations: from slavery to freedom, from darkness to light, from exile to restoration. Each generation is a link in the chain of the journey from slavery to redemption.

Reliving your memories

Passover is not just about recollection, but partaking. The story is revived each year with each generation taking its place as the subject of the narrative.

In every generation, every person must see himself as if he himself came out of Egypt, the haggadah instructs, because Moses commanded that when you eat the unleavened bread of Passover, “On that day tell your son, ‘I do this because of what the Lord did for me when I came out of Egypt’” (Ex 13:8).

From the Warsaw Ghetto Underground Press, April 1, 1942, the eve of Passover:

We are still having the festival of freedom at a time of inhuman slavery. And even though freedom is being trampled underfoot every day by the boots of the most terrible monster in all generations, it continues to flourish in our souls, and we believe and hope.

Passover, the most beautiful festival in our history, returns and revives the eternal idea of freedom in our memory. For [our] tortured [people] these days, it is a recollection of redemption. We understand today [more] than before the meaning of the words, ‘In every generation, every person must see himself as if he himself came out of Egypt.’ It is the command of history. No generation may forget the experiences that the people underwent in the foreign diasporas.³

In Deuteronomy 25:17-19, Israel was instructed to remember their first national enemy who had attempted to annihilate them:

Remember what the Amalekites did to you along the way when you came out of Egypt. When you were weary and worn out, they met you on your journey and attacked all who were lagging behind; they had no fear of God. When the Lord your God gives you rest from all the enemies around you in the land he is giving you to possess as an inheritance, you shall blot out the name of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!

So they were to remember, but in order to forget. However, the Amalekite spirit persists and has not been blotted out. At the Jewish festival of Purim, deliverance from attempted genocide by Haman, a descendant of the Amalekites (recorded in the book of Esther), is celebrated. Hamans have continued to arise. “In every generation, they rise up against us to annihilate us” laments the haggadah.

So, as you remember what happened to your ancestors, you imagine that first flight from your persecutors as though you were there: you escaped Egypt, crossed the sea on dry land, and fled to safety following a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night.

Hebrews 7:10, discussing priestly tithing, says that Levi could be said to have paid tithes through Abraham to Melchizedek even though he was not alive then, but because he was in the body of his ancestor. The implication of this curious idea is that because each Jewish life is inherited from another Jewish life, in a continual chain of descent, so with the author of Hebrews it could be said that each person was there at that first Passover in the body of their ancestors.

Leon Wieseltier writes:

It was one of the primary purposes of Jewish ritual and liturgy to abolish time, to make Jews divided by history into contemporaries (and Jews divided by geography into neighbours); in this way the many communities of Judaism were unified into a single people and the experiences of many Jews into a single story.⁴

Remembrance as a sign

God instructed Israel to observe this festival because it would be like a sign (in Hebrew, ot; in Greek, semion).

This observance will be for you like a sign on your hand and a reminder on your forehead that this law of the Lord is to be on your lips. (Ex 13:9)

This is one of the verses from which the command to wear tefillin (phylacteries) arose. Tefillin are small black leather boxes containing verses from the Torah on parchment that Jewish men bind with leather straps to their foreheads and hands. (Women may “lay” tefillin too, but were exempted from the commandment due to the demands of their maternal duties.)

The express command in Exodus 13:9 is to celebrate Passover; the implied command is to put on tefillin. The purpose of tefillin is to be a sign and reminder of the deliverance of God’s people from Egypt. The process of binding tefillin to the hand and the forehead is intended to remind the wearer that he is bound to the Lord in mind, action and speech - God’s Word “is to be on your lips”.

"Through centuries of shaking, the tangible reminders of God’s goodness in the Passover and tefillin have bound the Jewish people to each other and to their God."

So, celebrating Passover and putting on tefillin have become tangible signs of God’s goodness setting apart the Jewish people. In Exodus 13:16 the command is repeated: “And it will be like a sign on your hand and a symbol on your forehead that the Lord brought us out of Egypt with his mighty hand.” The Greek translation of the Old Testament (Septuagint) uses the word “unshakeable” (ἀσάλευτον) here to describe this memorial sign.

Through centuries of shaking, the tangible reminders of God’s goodness in the Passover and tefillin have bound the Jewish people to each other and to their God. Passover is about flooding the memory, binding the mind to the eternal. In evoking the past, meaning is restored to the present and hope assured for the future.

The power of shared memories

Repetition is the key to remembering and so Passover is repeated year after year by generation after generation.

The importance of linking the generations is demonstrated by the number of genealogies in the Bible. It was Jewish descent, rather than assent to a set of truths, that marked out God’s people before Messiah. Physical and spiritual heritage were intertwined. Names were remembered because of the important of physical heritage. It was vital to ensure that the inheritance of each tribe was not lost (see Zelophehad’s daughters in Numbers 27).

Remembering the names of your ancestors was therefore crucial for creating an unbreakable chain of memory and history to pass on so that the word of God was not forgotten.

To have your name blotted out was a terrible punishment. “May they be blotted out of the book of life and not be listed with the righteous” is the curse in Psalm 69:28. Revelation 3:5 says: “The one who is victorious will, like them, be dressed in white. I will never blot out the name of that person from the book of life, but will acknowledge that name before my Father and his angels.” So, all believers have memorial inscriptions: both Jew and Gentile.

Gentiles have always been part of the story of God’s people. Exodus 12:38 says about the flight from Egypt that, “Many other people went up with them”. Presumably Egyptians, possibly native slaves seizing the opportunity for freedom, clung to the Israelites, as Ruth the Moabite woman would later do, saying, “Your God is my God” (Ruth 1:16). So, Gentiles too have spiritual ancestors from the Exodus, the “Many other people” who left Egypt with the Hebrews.

Since Messiah came, Gentiles may join Israel by faith. They are included in God’s family by assent not descent, by faith rather than physical ancestry. Gentiles have a claim on the family inheritance because they have joined the family of God’s people and may share in its rich heritage: “…you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household” (Eph 2:19).

"The call of Passover is to all people everywhere: join the Exodus, leave the Egypt of sin and death...be joined to God’s people"

So the call of Passover is to all people everywhere: join the Exodus, leave the Egypt of sin and death that is human life as we know it, be joined to God’s people, the “one new humanity” (Eph 2:15) of Jew and Gentile through faith in Messiah, so that you may know and be known by one Father, the God of Israel, who is ruler of all.

Neglected heritage

Celebrating Passover is powerfully resonant for Gentile believers: it adds richness and depth to a faith that is often abstract, referencing Bible history but as observers without ownership. Passover roots and grounds us in the history and memory of a real family, God’s family.

For some Jewish people, seeing Jesus in the Passover has revealed the true meaning of the redemption narrative. A non-believing Jewish friend realised during a Passover seder⁵ explaining its messianic significance that, “Jesus is one of us, he’s Jewish!” She is now a believer in Jesus as Messiah.

However, are Gentile believers neglecting this rich heritage? In our churches and homes, are we building on this powerful mnemonic which binds us to each other and our God? Are our homes places where precious memories are formed or, in our busy and fractured family lives, do we leave that to the minister and the Sunday School teacher?

"Celebrating Passover is powerfully resonant for Gentile believers: it adds richness and depth to a faith that is often abstract, rooting and grounding us in the history and memory of a real family, God’s family."

Perhaps the neglect of study, worship and biblical celebration in our homes is the root of our spiritual impoverishment and a cause of our fragmentation and rootlessness as families, churches and communities. In Britain, we have lost much of our rich Christian heritage, but we have a chance to recover a deeper, more resonant heritage from our ancient spiritual ancestors. This is what the LORD says: “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.’” (Jer 6:16)

Our shared biblical history is not just an abstract set of salvation concepts but a fixed reality that was lived, and is lived, in each generation. Do we count ourselves as having been there? This powerful, grand narrative of the Exodus should be the bedrock of our Christian experience, undergirding the transforming gospel message of freedom and new life. Instead, many churches are we offering a tepid, watered-‑down, people-pleasing faith.

What is the sign in our lives that we belong to the Lord? It should be the word of God on our lips, the Passover message of deliverance and new life written on every page of our lives. We are “living letters” (2 Cor 3:3), signs to the world around us, foreigners and exiles (1 Pet 2:11-13), who are “in the world but not of it” (Jn 17:14,16).

Just as the Jewish people have always been God’s signpost to the world by their very continued existence, and have suffered and been rejected for it, so believers in Messiah Yeshua, joined to Israel (Eph 2:11-18), should aim to write the truths of the gospel with the largest letters we can, just as Paul wrote in his large hand to impress on the Galatians (Gal 6:11) that the inscription required by God was no longer circumcision, but the marks of the work of the Holy Spirit in our hearts, written in our lives in word and action.

"We are not required to circumcise or put on tefillin, but to bind the Lord’s commands to our minds and actions by the daily “putting on” of Messiah"

We are not required to circumcise or put on tefillin, but to bind the Lord’s commands to our minds and actions by the daily “putting on” of Messiah: “clothe yourselves with Christ” (Rom 13:14, Gal 3:27, Col 3:12). Is the writing in our lives clear enough so that our faith can be “read” by all and 'strangers' want also to follow us out of Egypt?

As already pointed out, the ancient Greek translation of Ex 13:16 uses the word “unshakeable” to describe the memorial sign that is Passover: “And it will be like a sign on your hand and a symbol on your forehead that the Lord brought us out of Egypt with his mighty hand.” During the shaking that is to come, believers need to cling to that which cannot be shaken.

The power of memory: hope for the future

Jesus is already established in the Passover – in plain sight but hidden. At the beginning of the traditional Passover seder (Hebrew for order) a mysterious custom takes place. Three matzot (pieces of unleavened bread) are placed in a bag with three compartments. The middle piece is broken, half is returned to its compartment and the other half covered in a cloth and hidden to be 'resurrected' later as a children’s hide and find game at the end of the meal where they 'ransom' it for sweets.

The origin of this custom is uncertain. The hidden piece of matzah is called the afikomen, the meaning of which is, 'he who comes' or 'the one who has arrived'. When the children find it they 'ransom' it in exchange for a prize. So, there is a trinity of unleavened bread (lack of yeast symbolising purity), the second piece of which is broken, then buried or hidden in a cloth, then ransomed and eaten by all, while those who find this treasure receive a prize.

Jesus' body was broken, he was buried, wrapped in cloth, and later brought back or resurrected. His sacrifice may be partaken of by all. His death is the ransom for sinners. He is the “pearl of great price” (Matt 13:45-6), a priceless treasure and the prize of salvation (Philippians 3:14), available to all who choose to partake (Jn 1:12). It is thought that the afikomen is the piece of matzah that Jesus broke and offered to his disciples when he said, "This is my body, broken for you" (Mk 14:22).

"At Passover, whether Jew or Gentile, we are invited to journey afresh with Messiah, whose body was broken for us and whose blood was shed as our Passover Lamb (1 Cor 5:7)."

One Passover custom among Sephardi Jews is for the leader of the Passover seder to leave the room and return with the afikomen in a knapsack over his shoulder, carrying a walking stick and wearing a tightened belt.

The children ask, "Where are you coming from?"
The seder leader replies, "From Egypt."
Then the children ask, "Where are you going?"
The answer: "To Jerusalem."

When we turn to God we embark on a journey from Egypt, the old life of sin, to Jerusalem, our redemption in Messiah. As we journey we may limp, hence the walking stick, as some of our sinful ways still linger, hindering us. We have to deny the self, tightening our belts, so to speak. Yet the only burden we need to carry is that of Messiah, represented by the afikomen in this story. "Take my yoke upon you," says Jesus, "for my yoke is easy and my burden is light" (Matt 11:29).

At Passover, whether Jew or Gentile, we are invited to journey afresh with Messiah, whose body was broken for us and whose blood was shed as our Passover Lamb (1 Cor 5:7). Let us no longer neglect our rich inheritance in Messiah. Remembering the past sets us on the right path for the future.

When we know where we have come from, then we know where we are going.

References

1 The haggadah (in English, telling) is a book of prayers, blessings and story-telling that is recited at the Passover meal.

2 Heschel, A J, 1967. Israel: An Echo of Eternity. New York, p60.

3 Roshkovsky, L. Pesach and the Holocaust, Yad Vashem, The International School for Holocaust Studies.

4 Wieseltier, L. Culture and Collective Memory, New York Times, 15 January 1984.

5 Seder is Hebrew for 'order'. It refers to the service that takes place in the home on the first night of Passover involving a meal and the eating of specific elements relating to the original Passover.