
In the December series BEHOLD, we are invited to look again at the heart of the Christmas story. Last week focused on the promise God made. This week shifts our attention to the price God paid. This moment centers on a powerful scene in Scripture.
As Jesus approaches, John the Baptist pauses and makes a declaration that reshapes everything: “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” John 1:29 (ESV)
John does not first call Jesus King, Lion, Miracle Worker, or Teacher. His first revelation is simple and startling: the Lamb. What appears gentle to the world is Heaven’s boldest move. The Lamb is not weak or passive; He is the sacrifice, the substitute, and the payment. Through Him, God confronts and defeats the very thing that separated humanity from Himself.
John says the Lamb takes away sin. That phrase speaks of weight, burden, and removal. Sin, guilt, shame, and the pressure to fix ourselves were never meant to be carried by human strength. They are too heavy. Yet many people live overloaded, trying to manage what they were only meant to surrender.
Jesus invites us to hand over what is crushing us. He carries what we were never designed to hold.
In the Old Testament, the lamb’s sacrifice temporarily covered sin. But when Jesus came, He did not cover sin — He conquered it. He carried sin not to delay judgment, but to destroy its power completely.
Because of the Lamb:
The Lamb carried what we could not — physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
Why would Jesus carry such weight so freely?
Jesus Himself answers in John 10:17–18 (NIV): “I lay down my life—only to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.”
Jesus was not trapped into the cross. He chose it. He walked toward it with purpose and resolve. He was not Heaven’s backup plan or an emergency response to sin. Scripture reveals that the Lamb was chosen before sin ever entered the world.
Jesus endured the cross not because He had no choice, but because He chose people — fully aware of their brokenness, long before they could earn or deserve rescue. He came willingly, not reluctantly. Purpose-driven, not pressured. Focused, not forced.
The final layer of this revelation reshapes identity itself. In Exodus 12:6–8, God instructs Israel to sacrifice a lamb and apply its blood to their doorposts. Before the blood touched the door, death was coming in. After the blood was applied, death had to pass over.
One touch changed everything.
Israel moved from captivity to freedom not because they escaped Egypt on their own, but because the Lamb transformed their homes into places of salvation.
God did not call them to a temple or a mountain. He met them right where they were — in the middle of oppression — and turned ordinary doorframes into sacred boundaries of deliverance.
When the Lamb touches something, it shifts from common to consecrated. The same door that held death back at midnight became the door God opened for destiny in the morning.
This truth still stands today. The Lamb is able to touch the very places the enemy attempted to destroy:
What the enemy marked for destruction, the Lamb marks for destiny. What the enemy tried to shut, God is able to open wide. If He touches it at midnight, He can transform it by morning.
To behold the Lamb is more than a theological idea; it is an invitation to surrender, trust, and transformation. This is the moment where shame loses its grip, where darkness breaks, and where God brings redemption into places once thought untouchable.
The Lamb still carries burdens. The Lamb still comes willingly. The Lamb still transforms what He touches. And when we behold Him, everything changes.
Watch the full message here!