This is for those who aren’t Seeking – but should well be!!!
Why won’t you believe?
No, I’m not asking you to be polite about it. I don’t want your Sunday school answer or a theological debate or some well-worded excuse you’ve been polishing for years. I’m asking you to get real — down to the bone, soul-level real. Because if you know the truth, and you keep rejecting it, what do you think that’ll mean for you when you stand face to face with the very One you’ve spent your life dodging?
So I’ll ask again: what is stopping you?
Because the truth is… nothing is.
Nothing but you.
You want to talk about evidence? Let’s talk about it.
You want to talk about love? Let’s go there.
You want to talk about what it cost Yeshua to rescue you out of the mess you were born into? Then pull up a chair, because you’re going to need to hear this all the way through.
We’re going back to the beginning. Not just to Matthew or Luke — back to the Garden.
Because if you don’t understand what we lost there, you’ll never understand what Yeshua came to restore.
בְּרֵאשִׁית בָּרָא אֱלֹהִים — Bereishit bara Elohim — “In the beginning, God created…” (Genesis 1:1)
He created a world that was tov me’od — very good. No death. No war. No fear. And man — Adam — walked with God, face to face. That was the design. That was the whole point. But it didn’t last long, did it?
Being lied to and deceived by the evil one, they ate from the etz ha-da’at tov v’ra — the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The one thing God told them not to touch.
And in that moment, everything broke.
Sin entered.
Fear entered.
Death entered.
And humanity was driven from the garden. Driven from the presence of God.
But God didn’t leave us there. He immediately set a plan in motion — one that would cost Him everything.
He began to reveal Himself — to Avraham, to Moshe, to Israel at Mount Sinai. He gave His people the Torah — the instruction — not to crush them, but to teach them how to walk with Him again. How to live. How to love. How to repent.
He gave the Mishkan, the korbanot — the sacrifices — so sin could be temporarily covered. Blood for blood. Life for life. כִּי הַדָּם הוּא בַּנֶּפֶשׁ יְכַפֵּר — ki ha’dam hu ba’nefesh y’chaper — “for it is the blood that makes atonement for the soul.” (Leviticus 17:11)
But none of it was permanent. The blood of bulls and goats could never cleanse the heart. It could only point ahead to the One who would.
Enter the prophets.
Isaiah, standing centuries before the birth of Yeshua, said this in Yeshayahu (Isaiah) 53:
“He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief… surely He bore our sicknesses and carried our pains… He was pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed.”
He goes on:
“The Lord has laid on Him —וַיהוָה הִפְגִּיעַ בּוֹ אֵת עֲוֹן כֻּלָּנוּ—
the iniquity of us all.”
Do you hear that? God put our sin on Him. That’s the plan.
And then Yeshua came.
Not as a Roman-slaying warrior. Not as a Torah-breaking rebel. He came as the fulfillment of the Torah itself — the walking, breathing embodiment of God’s instruction.
He said, “Do not think I have come to abolish the Torah or the Prophets. I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.” (Matthew 5:17)
The Greek word is plēroō — to complete fully. To bring to fullness. He didn’t cancel Torah. He filled it up with Himself.
He healed the sick. He raised the dead. He forgave sin. And He obeyed perfectly.
But the mission was not just to live righteously. His mission was to die in our place.
And so He was betrayed. Beaten. Mocked. Stripped. Nailed to a Roman cross.
And there — in that darkest moment — He lifted His voice and cried:
“Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”
(Mark 15:34)
Let’s stop here, because this is where people have twisted it for centuries.
The Church says it means, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”
But that’s a mistranslation — and a theological lie.
The Aramaic word “sabachthani” doesn’t mean “abandoned” or “forsaken” like the English makes it sound. It comes from the root שְׁבַק (shavaq) — which means to allow, to let be, to permit, or to leave something in trust.
Yeshua is quoting Psalm 22:1 — not because He’s been forsaken — but because He’s fulfilling prophecy, and declaring it right in front of them.
He’s saying, “Look it up. See what’s happening. This is it. This is Me.”
Because Psalm 22 doesn’t end in despair. It ends in glory. It ends in the nations turning to God. It ends in this:
“All the ends of the earth will remember and turn to the Lord… for dominion belongs to the Lord, and He rules over the nations… they will proclaim His righteousness to a people yet unborn — for He has done it.” (Psalm 22:27–31)
He has done it.
And you better believe He meant every word.
Yeshua wasn’t abandoned. He was sent. The Father didn’t turn away — He empowered the Son to finish the mission. And Yeshua did not cry out in confusion — He cried out in victory. Even in pain, He was still preaching.
John 8:29 says it flat:
“The One who sent Me is with Me. He has not left Me alone, because I always do what pleases Him.”
That was before the cross.
And it was still true on the cross.
The Father didn’t abandon Him — He glorified Him.
Yeshua bore the wrath that we deserved, the judgment for sin, but the presence of the Father never left. That cry was not forsakenness. It was a reference. A prophetic signal. A shout of “Go read Psalm 22 and see what I’m doing here!”
When He died, the parochet — the thick veil in the Temple — was torn from top to bottom. God ripped open the barrier between Him and us. The curtain was gone, the sacrifice had been made, and the blood of the perfect Lamb was now over the mercy seat.
Three days later — He rose.
He rose.
He didn’t rise spiritually. He didn’t rise as an idea or a metaphor. He rose in flesh and bone. With nail scars in His hands and a new kind of body that could walk through walls and eat broiled fish.
He appeared to His disciples. He appeared to over 500 at one time. He taught for 40 days. And then He ascended — alive, glorified, and seated, right now, at the right hand of The Father.
The work is done.
The sacrifice is perfect.
The debt is paid.
So I ask you again — what is stopping you?
You’re not too far gone. You’re not too dirty. You’re not too broken or angry or addicted or confused.
You’re exactly the kind of person He died for.
The Gospel isn’t for the squeaky clean. It’s for the blood-soaked, chain-wearing, shame-carrying, bitter-hearted rebels who are finally ready to say:
“God, I’ve got nothing. I believe. Save me.”
So what’s it going to be?
You’ve heard it all. You’ve read the scrolls. You’ve seen the evidence. You know what He did.
Now choose.
He is standing at the door and knocking —
“Hineh, omed al ha-pesach u’dofek…” (Revelation 3:20)
Will you open the door – and let Him in?
Because the only thing in the way… is you.
And that door? It won’t stay open forever.
Image done by chatgpt at my direction