Taking Ground | Week 3
Day 6
“Then the Lord said to Joshua, ‘Today I have rolled away the shame of Egypt from you.’ So the place has been called Gilgal to this day.” — Joshua 5:9
The crossing was complete. The people had finally made it through the Jordan. The waters had closed behind them, and for the first time in their lives, the Promised Land stretched out in front of them. You can imagine the celebration, the relief, the awe. They had witnessed the impossible—an entire river stopping, dry ground appearing, millions crossing safely.
But before they could begin conquering the land, before a single wall of Jericho fell, God gave Joshua an unexpected command. He told him to do something that made no military sense at all. He told him to circumcise all the men of Israel.
It’s easy to read that and miss the weight of it. For forty years, this new generation had grown up wandering in the wilderness, uncircumcised, unmarked by the covenant God made with their ancestors. Now, right in enemy territory, with nations nearby watching them and preparing for war, God asked them to do something that would leave every man physically weak and vulnerable for days. From a human standpoint, it was military suicide.
And yet, Joshua obeyed.
This moment at Gilgal wasn’t about strategy. It was about identity. God was calling His people to renew their covenant with Him—to mark themselves once again as His own. Before they could take new ground, they needed to surrender old shame.
The wilderness had taught them survival, but now they needed to learn trust. God was asking them to rely completely on Him, not their strength, not their numbers, not their preparation. He was saying, “You’re not slaves anymore. You’re not wanderers. You’re My people. And I want to seal that truth into your hearts.”
That’s what uncommon obedience looks like—it rarely makes sense in the moment, but it always leads to freedom.
We often love obedience when it aligns with convenience. But the kind of obedience that changes us—really changes us—usually feels uncomfortable, even risky. It’s the kind of obedience that asks us to lay down our own control and trust that God will protect and provide.
Think about it. The Israelites couldn’t fight, couldn’t defend themselves, couldn’t move. They had to rest in God’s promise that He would keep them safe. And He did. Not a single enemy attacked while they healed. God Himself became their defense.
When their obedience was complete, the Lord said to Joshua, “Today I have rolled away the shame of Egypt from you.” The word Gilgal literally means “rolling.” It was a turning point—not just geographically, but spiritually. In that moment, God lifted the weight of their past. The identity of slaves was gone. The labels of failure, fear, and unbelief were removed. They were finally free to see themselves the way God saw them—chosen, redeemed, His.
Obedience always leads to transformation.
It’s rarely about the external action; it’s about the internal surrender. God didn’t ask for circumcision because He needed a ritual—He asked for it because He wanted their hearts. In the same way, He still calls us to uncommon obedience today. He calls us to forgive when it’s undeserved, to give when it feels impossible, to stay faithful when it would be easier to walk away.
Those acts of obedience don’t just prove our faith—they purify it. They remind us that following Jesus was never about safety; it was about surrender.
Maybe God is asking you to do something right now that doesn’t make perfect sense. Maybe it’s to start something new, or to stop something comfortable. Maybe it’s to trust Him with something you’ve been gripping tightly. Obedience might feel risky, but on the other side of it, there’s freedom.
At Gilgal, the people of Israel were marked not by their scars but by their surrender. And from that place of weakness came strength. From that place of obedience came victory. The next chapter would bring Jericho—and the walls would fall not because of their might, but because of their faith.
That’s how God works. He brings us to places of vulnerability to remind us that His power is enough. He leads us through obedience to roll away the shame of our past and prepare us for what’s ahead.
Maybe that’s what God wants to do in you today—to roll something away. The shame you’ve been carrying. The fear that still whispers you’re not enough. The failure you haven’t been able to forget. He doesn’t want you defined by Egypt anymore. He wants you defined by grace.
Uncommon obedience is the doorway to uncommon freedom.
You can almost hear God’s words echoing through the centuries: “Today I have rolled away the shame.”
So stand at your own Gilgal for a moment. Look back at what God has brought you through, and then look ahead at what He’s calling you toward. Leave the shame behind. Step into obedience. And walk forward as who you really are — not who you used to be, but who God has already declared you to be.
Because when God rolls something away, it doesn’t come back.
