What’s So Special About Yeast?

Bread, Egypt, and the invisible things we carry from one season into the next.

Summer was a blink. Seriously, I don’t know where it went. One minute, we’re enjoying summer, and the next, I’m buying school supplies, managing schedules, getting everybody where they need to be, and trying to remember which child needs what form signed.

And now, here we are. Fall. The kids are back in school, the initial chaos has settled, and I’m finally getting back into my rhythm of studying the Word.

I love this time of year. There’s something about the transition into fall that makes me want to settle in, get organized, and dig into things I’ve been meaning to study. Give me my Bible, a notebook, a good pen, and a little uninterrupted time, and I’m happy.

So naturally, as I’m getting back into my study rhythm, I find myself investigating… Yeast. Yep. Yeast. Because I kept coming across it in Scripture, and eventually I had questions.

Why does God keep talking about yeast? Why was it so important that He gave Israel specific instructions about removing it from their homes? Why did they have to eat bread without it? And why does Jesus keep bringing it up? What is the big deal about this tiny ingredient?

Well, I started digging, and what I discovered took me from a loaf of bread to the Exodus, through the wilderness, into a conversation I had with my boss, and eventually right back to Jesus. So grab your Bible. We’re going to talk about bread.

Why did God make rules about yeast?

In Exodus 12, God is preparing to deliver Israel from Egypt. These people have been enslaved for generations. They’ve cried out to God, and He has heard them. Now, after the plagues, the time has come for them to leave.

God gives Moses instructions for the Passover meal. They’re to eat the lamb with bitter herbs and unleavened bread. Then, in Exodus 12:15, He commands them to remove leaven from their homes and eat unleavened bread for seven days. He even establishes consequences for disobeying the command.

Okay, Lord. This is clearly serious. But why?

Exodus 12:39 explains that when the Israelites left Egypt, they baked unleavened bread because they were driven out so quickly that their dough didn’t have time to rise. And Deuteronomy 16:3 tells us that the unleavened bread, called the bread of affliction, would help them remember the day they came out of Egypt.

So the bread became part of their remembrance. Imagine sitting around the table with your children every year, eating this bread, and telling them about the night God delivered your family from slavery. Your children weren’t there. They didn’t see the plagues or watch the Red Sea part. But through this annual observance, they would learn the story of God’s deliverance.

And as I thought about that, something else started bothering me. These people had spent generations in Egypt. They knew Egypt. They knew Pharaoh. They knew slavery. And now God was bringing them into an entirely different way of living.

How do you transition from being someone’s property to understanding that you belong to God?

Getting out of Egypt was just the beginning.

In Exodus 19:4–6, God reminds Israel that He brought them out of Egypt and brought them to Himself. He calls them His treasured possession and says they are to be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. Think about that for a minute.

Their entire lives had been shaped by slavery. They had learned to survive under Pharaoh’s authority, and now God was teaching them what it meant to live as His covenant people. He gave them instructions for worship, relationships, justice, and everyday life. In Leviticus 18:3, He specifically tells them not to follow the practices of Egypt, where they had lived.

They had a new identity, but they still had a lot to learn. And we see that throughout their wilderness journey.

In Numbers 11, the Israelites start complaining about the manna God has been providing. They begin reminiscing about the food they ate in Egypt. Fish. Cucumbers. Melons. Leeks. Onions. Garlic.

I’m sorry. CUCUMBERS?

God delivered you from slavery, parted the Red Sea, and destroyed Pharaoh’s army, and now we’re having a crisis over the produce section?

But here’s the part that really got me. In Numbers 11:5, they describe the food they ate in Egypt as being free. FREE. You were slaves!

Their memories of the food were real, but they were overlooking the cost of the life they had lived. And before I get too comfortable laughing at them, I have to admit that I do this, too.

How often have I asked God to bring me out of something, only to find myself missing parts of it when the new season gets uncomfortable? We can become so familiar with an environment that we continue measuring everything against it, even after we’ve left. And sometimes, the habits we developed to survive in one season become the very things we need to address in the next.

I actually experienced this at work recently.

I had a new boss, but I was still following the old rules.

I remember a conversation I had with my current boss that nearly made me cry in the middle of work. And all he did was say one sentence.

We were talking about proofreading documents, and I was explaining how difficult it can be when the reference materials I’m working with are outdated. I was worried about documents coming back with corrections because I didn’t always have the information I needed to catch everything.

He looked at me and said, “Well, Megan, if something gets returned to you with a comment, just remember, you don’t work for them.” And I almost lost it right there.

See, my previous supervisor operated differently, and somewhere along the way, I had learned to associate a returned document with getting my whole butt handed to me. So here I was, working under a different supervisor, bracing myself for a reaction that hadn’t even happened.

I was expecting this man to have a whole cow over a proofreading comment, and he’s over here reminding me that I don’t work for those people.

But here’s where the conviction hit me. I had a new boss, but I was still operating under the rules of my old one.

And honestly, who knows how far back that goes? Maybe I was doing the same thing with my previous supervisor. Maybe I had carried expectations from an even earlier experience into that relationship, too. How long had I been operating this way? Where did I even learn it? I couldn’t tell you.

But what I could see in that moment was how unfair I had been to my current boss. Here was a man who hadn’t given me a reason to expect that kind of reaction, and I was already preparing for him to respond like someone else. I had assigned him expectations he never established and was carrying around pressure he wasn’t putting on me.

OUCH.

When he said those words, I could physically feel the weight lift off my shoulders. I teared up because I realized I had been living under an authority that no longer governed me. And I felt convicted because I hadn’t even given my current boss the opportunity to show me how he would handle the situation. I had already decided what to expect based on what I had experienced before.

And isn’t that exactly what we can do with God? He brings us out, establishes a new covenant through Jesus, and tells us who we are in Him. Yet we can continue approaching Him with expectations shaped by old experiences, old wounds, and old ways of thinking.

We anticipate rejection before we’ve even approached Him. We assume He’s disappointed before we’ve opened His Word to see what He actually says. And sometimes, we need to recognize that we’re responding to someone based on an authority that no longer governs us.

I’m over here expecting Pharaoh to lose his mind over a proofreading comment, and PHARAOH DOESN’T EVEN WORK HERE ANYMORE. 🤦🏻‍♀️

Okay, but what does this have to do with yeast?

I’m glad you asked, because I had to get back to that question myself.

Scripture tells us that unleavened bread reminded Israel of their hurried departure from Egypt. It doesn’t explicitly identify yeast as Egyptian influence, so I don’t want to force that meaning onto the Exodus passage. But as I continued studying, I discovered that Jesus and Paul both used yeast to illustrate the way influence spreads.

In Matthew 16:6, Jesus tells His disciples: “Take heed and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and of the Sadducees.” (KJV)

The disciples immediately start talking about the fact that they forgot to bring bread. Which is hilarious. Jesus is teaching them about spiritual influence, and these men are worried about lunch.

I can’t even judge them. There’s a strong possibility I would’ve been standing right there asking Peter if he checked the other bag.

But Jesus explains that He’s warning them about the teaching of the Pharisees and Sadducees. And suddenly, the illustration makes sense.

A small amount of leaven can work its way through an entire batch of dough. You don’t need to add it to every individual piece. Once it’s mixed in, it begins affecting the whole thing.

Think about bitterness. One unresolved offense can begin influencing how you interpret everything another person says. Before long, your spouse asks where the car keys are, and somehow you’re arguing about something that happened in 2019. The keys are on the counter, by the way. But the resentment has spread.

Or think about the assumptions I had been carrying into my relationship with my boss. I didn’t wake up that morning and consciously decide to expect the worst from him. Somewhere along the way, I had absorbed certain expectations, and they had become part of how I responded. I didn’t even recognize them until someone said something that challenged them.

That’s what makes influence worth examining. Sometimes we’re so accustomed to a particular way of thinking that we don’t recognize how deeply it’s shaping our responses.

And now I’m asking myself some uncomfortable questions. What have I allowed to influence me? What assumptions am I carrying into relationships? What have I accepted as truth because it’s familiar? And what am I allowing to spread through my life that doesn’t agree with God’s Word?

Because I can be physically removed from an environment and still allow its influence to shape my decisions.

But Jesus also compares the Kingdom of Heaven to yeast.

Now, this is where the study gets even more interesting.

In Matthew 13:33, Jesus says: “The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven, which a woman took, and hid in three measures of meal, till the whole was leavened.” (KJV)

Wait a minute. In Matthew 16, He’s warning about yeast. In Matthew 13, He’s comparing the Kingdom of Heaven to it. So which is it?

The context tells us what Jesus is illustrating. In Matthew 16, He’s warning about the influence of corrupt teaching. In Matthew 13, He’s illustrating how the Kingdom works through the whole.

And I started thinking about how often we underestimate the small things God is doing. We want the dramatic breakthrough. The big moment. The instant transformation.

But what about the ordinary decisions? The apology we finally make. The conversation where we choose to tell the truth. The moment we recognize an unhealthy response and decide to address it. The Scripture we keep returning to until it begins changing the way we think.

I think about that conversation with my boss. One sentence exposed an assumption I didn’t even realize I was carrying. And suddenly, I could see something that needed to change.

What other areas of my life need that same examination? What would happen if I allowed God’s Word to challenge the assumptions I’ve been carrying for years? What would happen if I stopped automatically responding according to what I’ve experienced and started asking whether my responses agree with what God has actually said?

I want His truth to work its way through every part of my life. My marriage. My parenting. My leadership. My friendships. My thoughts. Even the places where I’ve become so comfortable with an old pattern that I don’t recognize it anymore.

And that brings me to one final connection.

Remember what God has done.

As I write this, we’re transitioning into fall. Summer is behind us, the school-year rush is settling down, and we’re entering a season when many of us begin thinking about harvest, Thanksgiving, and gratitude.

And after following this study from Exodus through the wilderness and into the teachings of Jesus, I keep coming back to remembrance. Because that’s where the unleavened bread began.

God instructed Israel to remember their deliverance. Year after year, they would observe the Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread, remembering the God who brought them out of Egypt.

And then, centuries later, Jesus sat down with His disciples for His final meal before the crucifixion. In Luke 22:19, He took bread, gave thanks, broke it, and said: “This is my body which is given for you: this do in remembrance of me.” (KJV)

Bread. AGAIN.

I started this entire study wondering why God was so concerned about yeast, and now I’m looking at Jesus holding bread and telling His disciples to remember Him.

For generations, Israel had eaten unleavened bread to remember their deliverance from Egypt. Now Jesus takes bread and directs His disciples to remember His sacrifice.

And then Paul makes the connection even clearer in 1 Corinthians 5:7–8. He identifies Christ as our Passover and calls believers to put away the old leaven of malice and wickedness and celebrate with sincerity and truth.

The imagery comes full circle. Deliverance. Remembrance. A new way of living.

And now I’m thinking about Communion. How often have I taken Communion, thanked Jesus for His sacrifice, and then gone right back to living according to fears and expectations that don’t agree with what He’s done for me? How often have I remembered His death without allowing that remembrance to challenge the way I’m living?

Communion gives us an opportunity to remember Jesus, examine ourselves, and proclaim His death until He comes (1 Corinthians 11:26–28). And as we enter this season of harvest and gratitude, I can’t think of a more fitting place to end this study.

We’ve spent the summer moving from one thing to the next. The school year has started. Our routines are changing. We’re preparing for the holidays, gathering around tables, and thinking about everything we’re thankful for.

And I want to make sure that in the middle of all of it, I take time to remember what Jesus has done. Because I have plenty to be grateful for, but nothing compares to the fact that Jesus gave His life for me.

He is our Passover. The blood has already been shed. The price has already been paid. The covenant has already been established. Through Jesus, I am forgiven, reconciled to God, and brought near. I am not standing outside hoping I have done enough to earn my way in. I belong to Him because of what Christ did.

And if that is true, then I cannot keep living like nothing changed. I have to deal with the things I carried out of old seasons: fear, assumptions, survival habits, reactions I learned when I was hurt, disappointed, controlled, rejected, or afraid. Some of those patterns may have helped me survive a season, but that does not mean they get permanent residency in my life.

I have to bring those things into the light of the Word and ask harder questions. Does this still belong here? Does this response agree with who God says I am now? Does this fear get to keep making decisions for me? Because Jesus did not shed His blood so I could stay mentally chained to places He already brought me out of.

That one hits me. There are things God has freed me from that I still have to learn how to stop living under. And that is where gratitude gets real.

We are heading into harvest season. Tables will be full. Families will gather. We will talk about what we are thankful for. And I am thankful for a lot, but before the food, before the traditions, before the list of blessings, I want to remember the one thing everything else rests on: Jesus.

His body was given. His blood was poured out. A new covenant was established. Freedom cost Him something. So when I come to the table, I do not want Communion to become another religious moment I move through without thinking. I want to remember what He brought me out of, what His blood accomplished, and who I belong to now.

And then I want to get up from that table and live like I remember.

Jesus took the bread, broke it, and said, “This do in remembrance of me.” — Luke 22:19

So that is where I want to leave this. With bread, gratitude, remembrance, and one very direct question: if Jesus gave everything to bring me into something new, why am I still dragging old chains into the next season?

Time to pray.

Jesus, thank You for giving Your life for me. Thank You for Your blood, Your sacrifice, and the new covenant You established. Show me what I am still carrying that You never asked me to keep. Expose the fears, habits, assumptions, and patterns that do not agree with Your Word. Teach me to live like someone who has actually been set free. As I enter this new season, help me remember what You have done and let that remembrance change the way I live. Amen.

Thank you for sitting with me through this one. What started as a random question about yeast turned into a whole reminder about freedom, influence, remembrance, and Jesus. If this challenged you too, share it with someone who might need the reminder that God can bring us out of one season and we can learn how to live differently in the next. Make today amazing so it matches you!