It begins not in Jerusalem, but in chains.
Long before palm branches were waved and hymns were sung, Israel was a people pressed into brick and mortar beneath the scorching Egyptian sun. The book of Exodus tells us they had grown numerous in a foreign land, descendants of Abraham now reduced to forced labor under Pharaoh. Their backs bent under oppression; their cries rose to heaven. And Scripture says simply: God heard.
The story of Passover, recorded in Exodus 12, unfolds at the climax of divine confrontation. After plague upon plague—each striking not only Egypt’s economy but its gods—the final night arrived. This would not be merely another display of power. It would mark the birth of a nation.
“This month shall be the beginning of months for you.” Time itself was being reset.
