Category: Exodus

Preamble of Freedom (Exodus 20:1–2)

And God spoke all these words, saying, “I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.” —Exodus 20:1–2

The Preamble of the United States Constitution discloses the aim the founders had in writing it:

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

I’d venture those words are quickly recognized by a high percentage of American Christians. Sadly, I’d also venture that as high a percentage of evangelical Christians would not recognize the preamble to the Ten Commandments if they were rehearsed. How many sermon or teaching series through the ten commandments pick up with the first commandment ignoring the preamble? How many displays of the Ten Commandments, be they in churches, homes, or public property include it?

Placarding the Ten Commandments on public property is a bit like removing the preamble of the U.S. Constitution and posting it on state property in Mexico. Certainly, the law discloses the law of God that all mankind finds itself under, but that is not the intended audience in Exodus. Posting the law on public property in a pluralistic sentence is odd for two reasons: 1. It is the posting of their condemnation 2. It is a foreign document.

The law, as given in Exodus, with all its attached promises and threats, is given to His people, the redeemed. The law, as given here, does not speak to their bondage, but to their freedom. This is what is lost when we lose the preamble—the magnitude of the freedom the redeemed have in Christ (Romans 8:3–4). We are free from the law (it’s condemnation), and we are free unto the law (true God-glorifying obedience).

For those outside of Christ, the law is a chain of condemnation, but, as Thomas Watson said, for those in Christ, the law is a chain of pearls for our adornment. It is used by Him to conform us to the holy image of our beautiful God not so that He will be our God, but because He is our God.

Speak to all the congregation of the people of Israel and say to them, You shall be holy, for I the LORD your God am holy. —Leviticus 19:2 (ESV)

You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect. —Matthew 5:48 (ESV)

God Is Not Big Like Jupiter (Exodus 19:8b–25)

In Exodus 19 the Holy God comes down; the transcendent becomes immanent. But when God comes down the ladder He isn’t less up. When Israel draws night to the One who is altogether separate, He does not become less separate. God is both holy and present; transcendent an immanent. Between God and Israel, there must be a mediator, and further, boundaries are set with threat of blood for trespassers.

God’s transcendent holiness is of such magnitude, not that it renders His presence impossible, but unavoidable. God isn’t big like Jupiter. God isn’t big out there. God is so big that He is big everywhere. J. Todd Billings has written, “While God is holy and transcendent, he is not at a convenient distance.” YHWH isn’t like the deist’s God, transcendent and forever beyond us. He’s more transcendent than that. He’s so beyond us that He’s beyond our evasion. “If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! (Psalm 139:8)”

Yet, although God was there, He remained Holy. He remains other. The holy God is unavoidably present. You have to deal with the Holy. You do so either as a fool outside of Christ, or as those beloved in Christ.

This is not a fire for roasting marshmallows. After Moses ascends, God’s first command is for Moses to immediately descend and warn the people again. We quickly think we can climb without a harness. How soon we are desensitized by sin and behave flippantly in regards to the Holy. Let none presume to be a Prometheus able to steal the fire of YHWH. This is not a fire one can domesticate, harness, or contain. This is a fire beyond the one Nebuchadnezzar had heated seven times hotter than normal that consumed those who threw in Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. This is a fire, that like those three Hebrews, one can only survive by means of the presence of a fourth, of the Mediator, the Son of God. Let none presume to survive the fire without the Mediator.

Mountains Don’t Float (Exodus 19:1–8)

Contra Avatar, mountains don’t float. As a statue has a pedestal, so mountains have a foundation—a huge foundation. As Israel approaches the mountain of God’s law, it has a huge foundation and that foundation is grace.

When Israel comes to Sinai, Yahweh has delivered them, He has redeemed them, they are His people. The blood of the passover lamb has been spilt and applied. Grace covers them. The mountain of God’s law is surrounded by a thick perimeter of grace. Sinai, for the people of God, rests on the foundation of a continent of grace. This is the way God’s children come to the mountain of God’s law. Redeemed sons and daughters, if you’re hearing God speak His ten words from the fire, you’re standing on a continent of grace.

When good parents bring an adopted child home, one of the first loving things they do is explain the house rules. They don’t give the house rules so that the child can become a son. They give the house rules because the child is a son.

The problem we have is that the “ifs” of the law (Exodus 19:5) make us think we must do to become sons. So we either ignore the rules as impossible, or, we’re obsessed with earning covenant love. Children of the King should do neither. What do we make of this “if”? I take this “if” the same we we see it in the New Testament in the New Covenant.

Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you, which you received, in which you stand, and by which you are being saved, if you hold fast to the word I preached to you—unless you believed in vain (1 Corinthians 15:1–2 ESV).

[H]e has now reconciled in his body of flesh by his death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before him, if indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard, which has been proclaimed in all creation under heaven, and of which I, Paul, became a minister (Colossians 1:22-23 ESV)

The “adopted” child can still be disinherited. Do I mean they can lose their salvation? No, they can prove they never had it. Adoption didn’t really happen. They were just in the home pretending. When God saves a soul He makes them His child and He does this from the inside out causing them to be born again and made new. They’re different. God’s salvation goes long. Calvin put it this way, “It is therefore faith alone which justifies, and yet the faith which justifies is not alone: just as it is the heat alone of the sun which warms the earth, and yet in the sun it is not alone, because it is constantly conjoined with light.”

Listen to the “if” of Colossians 1 again. “He has reconciled…if you continue in the faith.” He doesn’t say He will reconcile you if you continue in the faith. The continuing in the faith is necessary not to merit the reconciliation but to demonstrate the reconciliation. Continuing in the faith doesn’t make sons, it marks sons. This is what John was getting at when he wrote, “They went out from us, but they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would have continued with us. But they went out, that it might become plain that they all are not of us (1 John 2:19).” Not everyone in the house is a son. Not all who claim to be sons are sons.

For those redeemed by the blood of the lamb, the law isn’t what must be done for salvation, it is what salvation does. Salvation is unto the restoration of the rule of God over the hearts of man. Under His rule, we are saved from sin, both its guilt and its power, to serve and glorify the Lord in obedience.

The law cannot lead to your justification, but it does lead either toward damnation or in sanctification. If the law is not leading you in sanctification, the foundation of justification isn’t there. You’re not standing on the continent of grace. You’re trying to make this mountain float, but it won’t. If the law doesn’t rest on the foundation of God’s grace, it will rest on you in damnation.

Compare, Contrast, and Transition (Exodus 18)

Why is this story here? “Well, it happened,” one retorts. Indeed, but the Biblical authors are selective. We’re never told everything, so why are we told of this event? Why is it given such attention? I believe this story primarily does three things. It compares, it contrasts, and it transitions.

It compares Moses and Israel, showing how they are similar.

It contrasts Amalek and Jethro, showing how they are different.

It transitions us to Sinai.

But to heighten and emphasize this, let me ask again, why is this story here? Often in the Scripture we find that events are arranged generally in a chronological way, but also, immediately in a theological way. As you read through the Gospels you will sometimes find a different order of events. The intent of the gospels isn’t to tell you the exact historical chronology, but to reveal the theological truth the episodes teach us about Christ. Generally, in the big scope, things are presented chronologically: Jesus’ birth, then His ministry, then His crucifixion, then His resurrection. But immediately, the arrangement is theological. This is often the case in all the Bible.

In Deuteronomy 1:8–19 there’s a very similar account to this one. Similar, I believe, because it recalls the same instance. There we have an account that complements this one, looking at it from a different perspective and tells us when exactly this takes place chronologically. When you read the context before and after, notably Deuteronomy 1:6, 19, it’s clear this happens as Israel readies to depart from Sinai. So, in Exodus, why here now? To compare Moses and Israel at this point, to contrast Amalek and Jethro, and to transition to Sinai.

Moses’ exile is a mini-exodus. Moses departs Exodus with Pharaoh wanting kill him. He was a sojourner in a foreign land, Egypt, but God brought him the place of his father’s wanderings to dwell among distant cousins. He comes to Horeb where he sins against God’s commands. Finally compliant to journey where God commands, he first returns to the mountain to be reunited with Aaron.

Now again, at Horeb, there is a reunion with family. Israel too has been delivered from the sword of Pharaoh. Having sojourned in Egypt, they’re traveling to the place promised to them, but first they come to Horeb, where they too will disobey the God who reveals Himself in fire.

Moses and Israel are compared. Amalek and Jethro are contrasted. The nations oppose Israel, but they also are grafted in. Amalek came and fought (17:8); Jethro came and inquired of Moses’ welfare (18:5–7). In 17:9 Joshua chooses men to fight, in 18:25, upon Jethro’s advice, men are chosen to judge. Previously Moses sat with the staff of God in his hand (17:12), now he sits in judgment (18:13). In both instances Moses does this all day and needs help. The parallels draw out the contrast. Amalek does not fear God (Deuteronomy 25:17). Jethro rejoices (18:9), blesses (18:10), and glorifies Yahweh (18:11). Then he offers sacrifices to God and has a covenant meal with Moses, Aaron, and the elders (18:12).

This compare and contrast sets up a a transition to Sinai. Jethro’s good advice helps Moses apply the law of God. But as this law is applied, don’t miss this, this mountain is surrounded by grace. We’re reminded of the grace shown to Moses, and to Israel, and we see a Gentile graciously grafted into the olive tree of Israel in the shadow of Sinai. Jethro’s wisdom helps the law be applied so that God’s people go to their place in peace (18:23). For the redeemed of God, His law is surrounded by grace.

Graceful Grace (Exodus 17:8–16)

Exodus gracefully testifies to grace—the grace of the gospel. Jesus is seen in the manna, in the Rock, and in the water. Then, you come to a text like this. Exodus remains graceful, but we might get clumsy. Ardent to see grace, we’re ham-fisted in handling God’s Sword.

Some fail to see grace where it is (the Old Testament). Others see it, but in a way that it isn’t there. Certainly of the two errors the latter is the more permissible. It’s going wrong in the right direction, but we’d rather not go wrong at all. We want to see the grace that is gracefully there—the grace as God speaks of it.

Allegory, unless justified, is a cheap and clumsy method. Moses’ upraised hands on the hill anticipate Christ crucified. Aaron and Hur foreshadow the thieves. Joshua speaks of Jesus’ conquest and his chosen men, the disciples. See what I mean? That’s butterfingering the Word. Grace indeed, but most ungraceful in method.

What then to do with the text? Biblical theology. What is Biblical theology? It’s a technical term meaning more than theology that is Biblical. It is an unfortunate term. Perhaps it’s best to contrast it with systematic theology. Systematic theology reads the Bible logically. Now, that is a poor way of putting it as well, for Biblical theology is not illogical. And here I am trying to be graceful. Systematic theology asks, “What does the Bible say about “x”? About God’s sovereignty? About angels? About Jesus’ atonement? And on an on. It looks at the answers and organizes them logically. Biblical theology reads the Bible historically. It reads the Bible as a single unfolding and unified story. These two ways of reading the Bible are not to be pitted against one another, but rather to serve as complements.

What then is the story of the Bible? In a word Graeme Goldsworthy might say, “kingdom.” What is the kingdom of God? His answer: “God’s people in God’s place under God’s rule.” That is a good description of what the kingdom is, but we still need the plot. This is what the kingdom is, but what does it do? At a Saturday meal with his family one might hear Douglas Wilson ask his grandchildren, “What is the point of the whole Bible?” The enthusiastic response, “Kill the dragon, get the girl.” That is what the kingdom does. The serpent sought to kill, steal, and destroy. Having rebelled against God’s rule, man was exiled out of God’s place, estranged, no longer His people. God then promised a serpent-crushing seed of the woman.

From Genesis 3 on we see two seeds. Certainly, Jesus is the seed of the woman, but all united to Him by faith are the seed as well. As decreed by God, these two seeds are at enmity. Cain kills Abel. Genesis goes on to show us a series of genealogies, two seeds placed side by side: Cain and Seth, Ham and Shem, Ishmael and Isaac, Esau and Jacob.

Who is Amalek? Perhaps a nation already in existence at the time of Abraham (Genesis 14:7). But at that point only the country of the Amalekites is spoken of. Perhaps this is anachronistic, just as we speak of the Incas and America. Further, in Exodus 17 it is peculiar that the Amalekites are spoken of as Amalek. Who is Amalek? The grandson of Esau (Genesis 36:11–16). What glorious things the genealogies are! What a story they tell. Do you remember Isaac’s blessing of Esau?

Behold, away from the fatness of the earth shall your dwelling be, and away from the dew of heaven on high. By your sword you shall live, and you shall serve your brother; but when you grow restless you shall break his yoke from your neck. —Genesis 27:39–40

Here comes Amalek, raiding the tail (see Deuteronomy 25:17–19) of Israel, seemingly living by his sword. We’re given no motive as to why Amalek attacked, except the ancient one of Genesis 3. The seed of the woman opposed the seed of the serpent.

The kingdom is opposed. The war goes on, and as this text makes clear, this is Yahweh’s war. Israel isn’t wielding God, God is wielding Israel. Amalek will be blotted out. God has formed and redeemed a people. He is leading them to a mountain to receive His rule. He will bring them to His place, but when they arrive, there’ll be enemies, His enemies, which He will conqueror by them. This is the story of the Scriptures, and the climax of this battle, the final victory, the blessing of His people are all ultimately, and gracefully, found in Christ.

God in the Dock (Exodus 17:1–7)

“The ancient man approached God (or even the gods) as the accused person approaches his judge. For modern man the roles are reversed. He is the judge: God is in the dock. He is quiet a kindly judge: if God should have a reasonable defense for being the God who permits war, poverty, and disease, he is ready to listen to it. The trial may even end in God’s acquittal. But the important thing is that Man is on the Bench and God is in the Dock.” —C.S. Lewis

Three times Yahweh has tested Israel in the wilderness (Exodus 15:25–26; 16:4; Psalm 81:7). When you take a test three times, you hope to see some progress. Israel scores worse. Discontent to merely grumble, she quarrels and tests. God is testing her, and she tries to flip the tables. She tries to put God in the dock.

The word “test” has a legal flavor to it, a flavor that grows more pronounced as one advances through the text. God tells Moses to go ahead of the people with the elders. Why the elders?

“If a man has a stubborn and rebellious son who will not obey the voice of his father or the voice of his mother, and, though they discipline him, will not listen to them, then his father and his mother shall take hold of him and bring him out to the elders of his city at the gate of the place where he lives, and they shall say to the elders of his city, ‘This our son is stubborn and rebellious; he will not obey our voice; he is a glutton and a drunkard.’ Then all the men of the city shall stone him to death with stones. So you shall purge the evil from your midst, and all Israel shall hear, and fear (Deuteronomy 21:18–21 ESV).”

The elders function as judges and witnesses. A rebellious son is brought before the elders, seen guilty, and then judged. Israel tried to judge God and was on the cusp of sentencing. Of course she couldn’t kill God, so the mediator would have to do (Exodus 17:4). God takes His rebellious son out before the elders. He instructs Moses to bring the staff with which he struck the Nile. Every time this staff falls, it falls with salvation and judgment. Previously, Egypt was judged; Israel was saved. Here Israel is the guilty one. Israel is guilty, but she isn’t struck. The rock is struck so that she might drink. Paul tells us that this rock was Christ (1 Corinthians 10:4).

God is indeed in the dock, but He remains on the Judge’s bench as well. The Father still sat over the court judging our sins, but the Son willingly takes our place so that water might flow.

Tons of Grace in Ounces of Bread (Exodus 16)

Think of all that God gives you when you put a piece of bread in your mouth. He’s given you wheat. He’s given you a farmer, his health, and hours and hours of a season of sowing, growing, and harvest. He’s given you rain and sun. He’s given you a tractor with a plow and seed drill. He’s given you a combine to harvest it and trailers to transport it. He’s given you diesel, oil, grease and the refineries that produce them. He’s given you rubber, tires, and sleepy truck drivers. He’s given you factories with hundreds of laborers: factories to produce the farm equipment, factories to make the bread. He’s given you thousands of years of history, for, behind all of this are centuries of sweat and labor to invent, innovate, and refine. He’s given you a grocery store and stockers. He’s given you a job, life, and health to purchase and eat the bread. And we’ve only dealt with the wheat. We haven’t considered the salt, the water, the butter, the sugar, or the yeast. When you eat one bite, just one bite of bread, you are immeasurably wealthy and incomprehensibly blessed. There are tons of grace in ounces of bread. The only proper response to such lavish generosity is gratitude. Even when we are grateful, our gratitude never matches up to His generosity. Sadly, were often presumptuous. Worse yet, we grumble. And yet, the bread is still there.

God saves. Then, Israel grumbles. Yet, God is gracious. Still, Israel grumbles. Still, God is gracious.

When Israel eats this manna, think of all that God is giving them. This manna is epic. This lengthy account doesn’t begin to match their lengthy experience. “The people of Israel ate the manna forty years, till they came to a habitable land. They ate the manna till they came to the border of the land of Canaan (Exodus 16:35 ESV).”

Yet, the true magnitude of the mann isn’t found in it’s duration, nor it’s delicacy, but it’s meaning. Like the Supper, the true feast can only be had by faith. Manna was spiritually enriched and nutrient loaded.

Jesus feeds the five thousand in the wilderness. Later he tells the crowds that the bread and the manna both testify of Him, the true bread from heaven (John 6). How do they respond? With grumbling. The crowds leave. Many of His disciples leave. Jesus turns to the twelve and asks if they will leave also. Peter responds, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God (John 6:68–69 ESV).”

This was the test of the manna.

“And you shall remember the whole way that the LORD your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, that he might humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep his commandments or not. And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD.” —Deuteronomy 8:2–3 (ESV)

Jesus is the Word of God. Jesus is the Bread of Life. The manna was epic. There were tons of grace in every ounce.

Fortunate Son (Exodus 15:22–27)

God saves. His people sing. Then, they grumble! The children who praise and thank you at the beach, whine and moan on the way home.

God saves. His people sing. Then, they grumble. Yet, God is gracious! The children who praise and thank you at the beach, whine and moan on the way home, but you don’t drop them off at the nearest convenience store, you drive them all the way home.

God saves, we sing—this is the essences of salvation. We sing, then we grumble, yet God gives grace—this is the story of sanctification. In this wilderness of life east of Eden and south of the new heaven and new earth, sin remains in us, but it never exhausts the grace found in God. Grace that will drive us all the way home. Grace that will drive sin out of us.

I don’t understand my friends who think otherwise, but in my opinion, The Horse and His Boy is one of the best in Lewis’ Narnian tales. From one perspective, Shasta’s life has been a series of unfortunate events: abandoned as a child on foreign pagan soil to become a slave, finally gaining opportunity to seek his freedom, only to be exhausted by one obstacle after another. Journeying alone in the night he begins to complain that he must be the most unfortunate boy in the world. His grumbling is stunted by the terror of realizing he is not alone. After the unknown Thing travels alongside him for some distance in the darkness Shasta finally breaks the silence.

“Who are you?” he said, barely above a whisper.

“One who has waited long for you to speak,” said the Thing. Its voice was not loud, but very large and deep.

“Are you – are you a giant?” asked Shasta.

“You might call me a giant,” said the Large Voice. “But I am not like the creatures you call giants.”

“I can’t see you at all,” said Shasta, after staring very hard. Then (for an even more terrible idea had come into his head) he said, almost in a scream, “You’re not – not something dead, are you? Oh please – please do go away. What harm have I ever done you? Oh, I am the unluckiest person in the whole world.”

Once more he felt the warm breath of the Thing on his hand and face. “There,” it said, “that is not the breath of a ghost. Tell me your sorrows.”

Shasta was a little reassured by the breath: so he told how he had never known his real father or mother and had been brought up sternly by the fisherman. and then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and of all their dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the tombs and how the beasts howled at him out of the desert. And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis. And also, how very long it was since he had had anything to eat.

“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice.

“Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.

“There was only one lion.” said the Voice.

“What on earth do you mean? I’ve just told you there were at least two lions the first night, and—”

“There was only one, but he was swift of foot.”

“How do you know?”

“I was the lion.”

And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you as you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”

“Then it was you who wounded Aravis?”

“It was I.”

“But what for?”

“Child,” said the Voice, “I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own.”

“Who are you?” asked Shasta.

“Myself,” said the Voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook: and again “Myself,” loud and clear and gay: and then the third time “Myself,” whispered so softly you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all around you as if the leaves rustled with it.

Shasta was no longer afraid that the Voice belonged to something that would eat him, nor that it was the voice of a ghost. But a new and different sort of trembling came over him. Yet he felt glad too.

Shasta, was brought by the Lion to a regal home, for unbeknownst, he was heir to the throne. Unbeknownst, he had saved the kingdom—though really it was all Aslan’s doing. Unbeknownst to Shasta, Aslan, by all these trials, was changing Shasta, fitting him for this kingdom. Likewise, God’s strange, wise providence guides His people home, for His glory, and for their joy. No more grumbling will be heard, all will be song.

God Saves, We Sing (Exodus 15:1-21)

Then Moses and the people of Israel sang…

I will sing to the LORD, for…

—Exodus 15:1

God saves, Israel sings, this is the story of salvation.

God saves, we sing, this is the Christian faith. Certainly there are some vital qualifying adjectives, but nonetheless, this is the essence of our faith. The Christian faith is not we sing, then God saves. We see this in other religions. God is not looking down from heaven on our show responding, “Great performance! Now here’s some salvation. Keep up the good work.” In false religions, and false Christianity, worship isn’t a response, but an attempt to elicit one. Mantra and chants are a performance hoping to get a hand from God. True worship is a response because God has given a hand. Not a helping hand, but a nail scared hand that saved us when we were dead, in bondage, and without strength.

The LORD is my strength and my song,
and he has become my salvation;
this is my God, and I will praise him,
my father’s God, and I will exalt him.

—Exodus 15:2

If Jesus isn’t your song, you don’t know His salvation. The saved, the rescued, the pardoned, the forgiven, the redeemed, the ransomed, the delivered, the justified, and the reconciled SING!

Some folks, of the highly educated sort, think this song is odd in its placement. This is ridiculous on a number of levels. Where else would you put it? Would you like Moses to insert it following the instructions for the golden lampstand? Further, such persons reveal they not only  know little of salvation, they know little of life.

“It’s not natural for this song to be here.”

“Have you ever eaten an exquisite steak?”

“I don’t follow.”

When you experience something good you want to praise it. Lewis observed, “I think we delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation.” Praise is a response to the praiseworthy. Songs of praise are a response to the exceptionally praiseworthy. Israel had reason to sing. She had to sing. We have reason all the more. The “then,” “for,” and “because” of our singing have been more fully revealed. Because of the incarnation, the perfection, the death, the resurrection, the ascension, the session, and the promised return of Christ, let us sing. Because of the redemption, ransom, salvation, propitiation, regeneration, reconciliation, justification, adoption, sanctification, and glorification we have in Christ, let us sing.

The history of salvation is sometimes described as a drama—the drama of redemption. However, this drama is actually a musical. It is impossible even to conceive of Biblical Christianity without songs of praise. —Phil Ryken

The Winning Hand (Exodus 14)

Let’s look at a lot of Scripture.

“And the LORD hardened the heart of Pharaoh king of Egypt, and he pursued the people of Israel while the people of Israel were going out defiantly.” —Exodus 14:8 (ESV)

“Lift up your staff, and stretch out your hand over the sea and divide it, that the people of Israel may go through the sea on dry ground.” —Exodus 14:16 (ESV)

“Then the LORD said to Moses, ‘Stretch out your hand over the sea, that the water may come back upon the Egyptians, upon their chariots, and upon their horsemen.’ ” — Exodus 14:26 (ESV)

“So Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and the sea returned to its normal course when the morning appeared. And as the Egyptians fled into it, the LORD threw the Egyptians into the midst of the sea.” —Exodus 14:27 (ESV)

“Thus the LORD saved Israel that day from the hand of the Egyptians, and Israel saw the Egyptians dead on the seashore.” —Exodus 14:30 (ESV)

“Israel saw the great power that the LORD used against the Egyptians, so the people feared the LORD, and they believed in the LORD and in his servant Moses.” —Exodus 14:31 (ESV)

The same Hebrew word appears in all six of these verses from chapter fourteen of Exodus. Can you identify it?

Having problems? Maybe these two alternate translations for the first verse and the last verse will help.

“And the LORD hardened the heart of Pharaoh king of Egypt, and he pursued after the children of Israel: and the children of Israel went out with an high hand.” —Exodus 14:8 (KJV)

“And when the Israelites saw the mighty hand of the LORD displayed against the Egyptians, the people feared the LORD and put their trust in him and in Moses his servant.” —Exodus 14:31 (NIV)

If you answered “hand,” give yourself a hand.

Israel leaves with a high hand. This gesture can mean defiance and insult (Numbers 15:30), or power and triumph (Micah 5:9). But more important that what is who. Whose hand? Israel went out with a high hand, but was it her hand?

More Scriptures:

“But I know that the king of Egypt will not let you go unless compelled by a mighty hand.” —Exodus 3:19 (ESV)

“Then Moses said to the people, ‘Remember this day in which you came out from Egypt, out of the house of slavery, for by a strong hand the LORD brought you out from this place.’ ” —Exodus 13:3 (ESV)

I believe the mighty hand Israel is going out by is Yahweh’s.

The middle passages where “hand” is clearly translated all deal with Moses’ hand save one. Moses’ hand holds a staff (Exodus 14:6). That staff represents God’s power, or, God’s hand. When Moses strikes the Nile with the staff, it is God striking the Nile with the staff (cf. Exodus 7:17, 25).

One more hand is mentioned, and that is the hand of the Egyptians. God delivers Israel from the hand of the Egyptians by a mighty hand.

I don’t care how well you believe the deck is stacked in your favor, you can’t beat Yahweh’s hand. I don’t care how badly you may think the cards are stacked against you, Yahweh’s hand cannot be beaten.

The hand of the Lord is to be feared, and those who fear it are to trust it.