7 takeaways from this study

This is a journey through the people’s deliverance from Mitzrayim (Egypt), through the prophetic warnings and redemptive promises of Isaiah, and into the amazing revelation of Yochanan (John) on the banks of the Jordan. Our study brings together Exodus 10–12, Isaiah 19–20, and John 1:29–34, threaded with insights from Philippians and Ephesians, all through the lens of Messiah Yeshua (Christ Jesus).

We the grafted-in and the natural branches (Romans 11:17–18) learn who we are, where we come from, and crucially who we are called to become. In our time, just like in the days of Moshe (Moses), Isaiah, and John the Immerser, the call for humility, distinction, and redemption remains louder than ever.

Only humility — עֲנָוָה anavah — prepares us for true cleansing. In the Hebrew mindset, עָנָה anah (to humble oneself) is not weakness, but an intentional bowing of the soul before the Creator. It’s the very heart of Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement):

“You shall humble (anitem) your souls.”

Moshe’s journey was, at its core, a humbling. At first, he took the law into his own hands, and the Israelites rejected him: “Who made you a prince or a judge over us?” (Exodus 2:14). Only after learning humility — allowing Adonai (the LORD) to shape him — was Moshe equipped to lead Israel out of bondage.

And then there’s Pharaoh — the living example of anti-anavah. His refusal to bow broke not only himself but an entire nation. The Torah says, “The LORD hardened (הֶחֱזִיק hekheziq) Pharaoh’s heart” (Exodus 10:20), showing us that pride leads to ruin, while surrender brings restoration.

In the Apostolic Writings (New Testament), Paul picks up this theme:

Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Messiah Yeshua, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant… He humbled Himself (etapeinōsen, ἐταπείνωσεν) by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

Humility isn’t just character-building. It’s world-changing. It’s the key to spiritual cleansing and preparation for the purposes God has for each of us.

Judgment and distinction are threads tightly woven through our Exodus reading. The plagues were not random punishments. Each carried specific messages — Adonai was making a distinction (בדלות havdalah) between Israel and Mitzrayim.

But all the sons of Israel had light in their dwellings.

In Hebrew, the contrast is striking: חֹשֶׁךְ khoshekh (darkness) vs. אוֹר or (light).

The plagues also challenged the false gods of Egypt: Ra the sun god (darkness), Hapi the Nile deity (waters turned to blood), and ultimately the “strength” of Egypt, its firstborn (Exodus 11–12). Yet, this judgment wasn’t for destruction alone. Through Isaiah’s prophetic vision, we discover a future hope for Mitzrayim:

“In that day there will be an altar to the Lord in the midst of the land of Egypt… He will send them a Savior (hoshia) and a Champion (rav; “Great One”), and He will deliver them… Blessed is Egypt My people, and Assyria the work of My hands, and Israel My inheritance.”

Friends, our God judges in order to redeem! Even our oppressors — be they personal, spiritual, or historic — can become part of His redemptive plan if they turn.

It’s easy to read Exodus and marvel at the miracles, but do we let the distinction between darkness and light penetrate our daily walk? Ephesians 5 echoes this timeless theme for us:

For you were formerly darkness, but now you are Light in the Lord; walk as children of Light…. Do not participate in the unfruitful deeds of darkness, but instead even expose them.

The Torah’s division of khoshekh and or (Genesis 1:3–4) isn’t just a cosmological event. It’s a spiritual reality. Darkness can be felt (Exodus 10:21), and so can light.

Yeshua urges us not to simply turn away from darkness but to intentionally abide where there is light and to become bearers of that light to the world (Matthew 5:14–16).

So, are we pressing closer to the or of Messiah or inching back toward our own personal Mitzrayim?

Throughout biblical history, nations — including Israel — fell into the trap of relying on earthly powers. Isaiah warns Judah:

“Woe to those who go down to Egypt for help and rely on horses… but they do not look to the Holy One of Israel, nor seek the LORD!”

This is more than political commentary. It’s spiritual direction. The temptation to trust human strength, wealth, leaders, or technology wasn’t just ancient Israel’s problem. It’s ours. Are we trusting our own “horses and chariots,” or the One “who made the horses”?

Romans 1 reminds us that worship of creation, rather than the Creator, leads people astray:

For they exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator….

Let’s resolve to honor the true Source of strength, salvation, and provision.

One of the most profound revelations in our study emerges from John’s Gospel:

“Behold, the Lamb of God (שֵׂה הָאֱלֹהִים seh haElohim) who takes away the sin of the world!”

The lamb isn’t just a Passover symbol. It’s also central to atonement (Leviticus 16, Yom Kippur) and points us to the suffering yet conquering Messiah.

Scripture’s imagery flips expectations: Yeshua is both the humble Lamb (ἀμνὸς amnos) and the mighty Lion (אַרְיֵה aryeh) of Judah (Revelation 5:5–6).

This combination teaches us that true authority is exercised through humility and sacrificial love. Yeshua “did not think equality with God something to be grasped… but emptied Himself” (Philippians 2:6–7).

We are invited to emulate this: “No servant is greater than his master” (John 13:16), and Yeshua’s example is to serve, wash feet, give, and sacrifice.

Another vital thread is תשובה teshuvah (repentance) — not merely turning from sin, but turning toward a new destination. In Greek, it’s μετάνοια metanoia, a change of heart and purpose.

Yochanan’s immersion (baptism) was “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (Mark 1:4 NASB 1995). But it’s not enough just to turn from. What matters most is what, or Who, we turn to (John 1:29).

Repentance is not a one-time event. It’s a continual process, echoed every Pesach, every Yom Kippur, every Shabbat. Leaving “Egypt” is a daily, even hourly decision.

The prophet Hosea paints God as the one who redeems even the unfaithful spouse (Hosea 3:1–5), buying her back — not to shame, but to restore.

An astonishing takeaway from our study is that even Egypt, archetype of oppression, is not beyond redemption. Isaiah’s oracle points to a day when, “Blessed is Egypt My people” (Isaiah 19:25).

This radical mercy offers hope for anyone who sees themselves, or others, as too far gone. If Mitzrayim can become part of God’s family through turning and redemption, so can we — even those “enemies” of God’s people, even those who have hurt us.

Apostle Paul himself, once Sha’ul the prosecutor–persecutor, is a living illustration of this transformation (Acts 9). The one who fought against God’s purpose became its greatest champion through humility and surrender.

Human nature longs for comfort, even in bondage. The Israelites, freed from slavery, longed for the certainty of Egypt (Numbers 11:4–6). The TaNaKh calls this backsliding “like a dog that returns to its vomit” (Proverbs 26:11).

Messiah calls us forward—to new life, new identity, new purpose. To return to “Mitzrayim” is to run back to that which enslaved and diminished us. The New Covenant promise is not just a rescue from something, but a call into something magnificent:

“I will put My law within them and on their heart I will write it… for I will forgive their iniquity, and their sin I will remember no more.”

Humility and repentance open the door to spiritual cleansing and transformation. God judges in order to redeem, sometimes even accomplishing it through surprising means and people. We are called to walk in Heaven’s Light (the Word and the Spirit), resist the temptations of false security of this world, and live out the sacrificial love modeled by the Lamb of God.

Our challenge is both ancient and fresh: Where are we tempted to trust in “horses and chariots,” or to look back to Egypt? Are there “plagues” — patterns or habits — that God is using to free us from bondage and call us toward Him?

Let’s embrace the anavah (humility), the havdalah (distinction), and the ge’ulah (redemption) that are our inheritance in Messiah. Let’s refuse to look back and instead move forward, walking as children of the Light (Ephesians 5:8).

As the prophet Micah said:

“He has told you, O man, what is good; And what does the Lord require of you, But to do justice, to love kindness, And to walk humbly (hatznea lekhet) with your God?”

May our journey out of Mitzrayim never end at the border of the wilderness, but carry us all the way home to Heaven’s promised rest. Shalom!