Sometimes there needs to be a cutting asunder — a tearing apart, a severing, even a violent ejecting — in order to usher in a rebirthing, a reordering, and a redirecting of destiny.
Case in point: Joseph.
Thrown into a pit by jealous brothers (helped along by his own colourful prophetic oversharing), he was cut off from family and thrust onto a rollercoaster of betrayal and promotion — until he finally emerged as Pharaoh’s right-hand man, holding the keys to national survival.
Case in point: Ruth the Moabitess.
She severed ties with her tribe, culture, and ancestral gods to follow her mother-in-law Naomi. That decisive break grafted her into the Messianic lineage and placed her name in eternity’s story.
Case in point: Abraham.
God commanded him to leave his ancestral home for an unknown land. His delayed obedience brought unnecessary grief, yet God’s plan to make him the father of many nations still prevailed.
Case in point: Singapore.
The umbilical cord was cut from Malaysia, forcing her into an uncertain independence — yet setting her on the path toward becoming the “Antioch of Asia,” a nation marked for strategic kingdom purposes.
These are glimpses of the weight behind God’s command: “Come out from them and be separate,” says the Lord. (2 Cor 6:17)
Our holy God detests mixture. If He is to use us for His glory, we must leave behind whatever hinders us and cling to the One who leads us into the Promised Land.
We are in the world but not of it. Born from above. Belonging to another Kingdom.
Yet too often we recite these truths glibly while living in ways that blur the distinction.
We are called to be “a peculiar people… called out of darkness into His marvellous light” (1 Peter 2:9 KJV), but we slip into the half-light — sometimes worshipping at “Altars of Questionable Cultural Customs,” other times at the “Altars of Compromised Truth.”
This spiritual flip-flopping disqualifies us from the kind of power God desires to invest in His people.
But there is hope.
It lies in the simple but costly obedience of first cutting asunder — and then cutting away; a circumcision.
Break free from whatever enslaves you or dulls your devotion to Jesus. Then let Him cut away the charred and scarred places of your unhealed heart and lips.
When that refining work is done, God may send you back to the very people or situations you once left behind — as with Joseph.
He may weave you into the grand narrative of His promises — as with Abraham.
He may lift you into a place of honour because you showed kindness to His covenant people — as with Ruth.
And here is the best news: in His wisdom and lovingkindness, He often uses even our detours and exiles to guide us into His purposes.
Final case in point: Singapore again.
Her expulsion from the Mainland was a severance from security to uncertainty — yet it birthed a nation ready to receive immigrant pilgrims like my own family.
We left behind the familiar and the secure, for the unknown and the strange, and in the process had to experience our own stripping and circumcision.
But we endured and survived our Valley of Baca- and found the highway to Zion right here in Singapore. Hallelujah!!
Compelled by an unknown divine urge to begin disconnecting from the forbidden and the unnecessary- even before we knew the whys, the whats and the hows- it wasn’t long before we discovered the Who behind it all.
Let me encourage those of you facing uncertainty and discouragement in your life right now. If God could bring us, (who didn’t even know or care much about Him) to this place of fruitfulness and miracles, how much more will He not lead you, faithful child of God, into your divine destiny and purpose?
But first check yourself.
Apply the magnifying glass of the Word on your soul and discern whether you have been hooked or chained to any spiritual connection that is blocking you from fruitful living.
And if you find any, then do yourself a favour and ruthlessly cut it asunder.
