Original Meaning

THE BIBLICAL NARRATIVE moves quickly from the story of Moses’ birth to a series of pivotal events that bring him to his initial meeting with Yahweh on Mount Horeb in 3:1ff. (the name “Sinai” is not used until 16:1). In the space of these few verses, Israel’s deliverer goes from privileged status in Pharaoh’s house, to fugitive, to virtual exile in a foreign land.

By the time we reach 2:11, Moses has apparently grown to be a man, as the following narrative makes clear. Just how much time elapses between verses 10 and 11 is not specified by the text, although Stephen speaks of Moses as being forty years old at the time (Acts 7:23; see also Exodus Rabbah 1.27). The number forty may have been deduced in antiquity by the fact that Moses was eighty years old when he confronted Pharaoh (Ex. 7:7) and 120 years old when he died (Deut. 34:7); it seems that main epochs of his life were divided into thirds. In any event, we know nothing of Moses’ life during these intervening years (Charlton Heston’s portrayal in Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments notwithstanding!).

Moses goes out to be with his people (lit., “his brothers”; 2:11). It is not clear whether he at this point has already consciously identified himself with his true countrymen. Nowhere in this passage do we see Moses consider himself an Israelite. (In v. 19 Jethro’s daughters assume Moses is Egyptian, likely by his dress, but this tells us nothing of his self-identity.) The fact that he goes out to observe the suffering of his countrymen certainly suggests a strong degree of compassion1 but not necessarily blood-kinship. We are left to conjecture whether the distinction between Moses’ identification with “his brothers” and the “Egyptians” with whom he contends is in Moses’ mind or the author’s. This is ultimately an unanswerable question.

Another way of posing the problem is to ask whether it is more likely for a Hebrew child, who was secretly delivered from Pharaoh’s wrath but who nevertheless grew up in Pharaoh’s household, to have grown up conscious of his true heritage, or whether that heritage would have been kept from him for his own safety. If Moses is unaware of his Israelite birth, he would have seen himself as a compassionate Egyptian whose conscience is finally stricken to the point where action is demanded. It is the opinion of the vast majority of commentators,2 not to mention the New Testament (Heb. 11:24–25), that Moses is aware at least by this time of his true pedigree.

One may also conjecture that Moses’ fear of being caught and Pharaoh’s wrath against him (Ex. 2:12–15) suggest that both he and Pharaoh are operating under the assumption that Moses is an Israelite. After all, we may presume that an Egyptian prince would have been within his rights to kill whomever he wished without fearing the pharaoh’s reprisal. On the other hand, Moses may have feared that his Israelite identity is now discernible, since killing an Egyptian slave driver would show where his true sympathies lie. But all this is conjecture.

Whatever may have been in Moses’ mind, however, it seems clear from the context of this passage that the writer wishes to place Moses’ Israelite heritage in the foreground. We see already in verse 11 two subtle hints of his subsequent role as deliverer of his people. (1) He is said to “go out” to his people (Heb. vb. yaṣaʾ ). Both this verb and ʿalah (“go up”) will become refrains throughout Exodus and other books of the Old Testament to describe how God brought the Israelites out of Egypt. Here Moses makes a first step: He “goes out” of Egypt himself.3

(2) The Egyptian’s “beating” the Hebrew slave evokes a strong action on Moses’ part. The Hebrew root is nakah, which appears again in 5:14 with respect to the Israelite foremen who are beaten by the Egyptian slave drivers for not meeting their quota of bricks. Moses’ response to the beating of the Hebrew slave foreshadows the unjust treatment of the Israelites by Pharaoh’s Egyptian slave drivers in 5:14 and their subsequent deliverance. Hence, in light of the context of these verses, Moses’ action here (see also nakah in v. 12) should not be interpreted as an act of vengeance or rash zeal but as a proleptic execution of divine justice against Egypt.4

To be sure, one is left wondering about some of the circumstances surrounding Moses’ act. Why does he hide the body? Is it out of fear?5 But why would the future deliverer be frightened about doing the right thing? Perhaps he has not yet grown into his position. Or, as some suggest, perhaps he does not really mean to kill the Egyptian, only teach him a lesson.6 There is no need, however, to defend Moses against the charge of premeditated murder. Since he is acting, albeit imperfectly, as God’s instrument of justice, it is more than fitting that Moses would exact the same type of punishment here as Yahweh will later do in the intentional killing of the firstborn in Exodus 12 or the drowning of the Egyptian army in Exodus 14. In any event, however conscious Moses is of his own background and despite the questions that may arise in our minds concerning some of the particulars, it is clear that Moses is incensed enough at what he sees to kill the Egyptian, thus severing his ties with the Egyptian aristocracy.

In verse 13, Moses intercedes in another conflict, but now between two Israelites. Although the narrator relates that the two men are “fighting” (naṣah), Moses asks the perpetrator, “Why are you hitting [nakah] your fellow Hebrew?” The implication is that the Hebrew’s treatment of his countryman is for Moses no different from that of the Egyptian in verse 11, where the same root nakah is used (or any different from the slaver drivers’ treatment of the Israelite foremen in 5:14). It is bad enough for God’s people to be oppressed by the Egyptians, but has it gone this far that Israelites mistreat each other?

This incident serves to introduce two interconnected themes that recur throughout the Pentateuch: Israel’s rebellion and the rejection of Moses. When asked by Moses why he is hitting his countryman, the Hebrew man replies in effect, “Who are you? Who do you think you are? Who gave you the right to tell me or anyone else here what to do?” Although it would be too much to expect of this Hebrew slave to recognize Israel’s future deliverer in his presence,7 from a literary and theological point of view his reaction is striking. Moses’ role as redeemer at its very beginning is already met with his own people’s questioning his authority. One could expect such behavior from the Egyptians (e.g., 5:1–5 and Pharaoh’s hardness of heart regarding the plagues), but certainly not from those whom he has been sent to deliver.

Israelite rebellion and rejection of Moses’ leadership is a frequent occurrence in Exodus and throughout the Pentateuch. In the burning bush narrative (3:1–4:17), even Moses himself doubts God’s choice for the deliverer of Israel, thus in essence rejecting his own leadership. After Moses confronts Pharaoh for the first time, the Israelites are left to make bricks without straw (5:1–19), which admittedly does not inspire much confidence among the people in Moses’ leadership (5:20–21), even after God assures Moses of his calling (5:22–6:12, esp. 6:9–12). After the Lord displays his power in the ten plagues, it seems that the Israelites have finally caught on. Still, with their backs against the sea and with the approaching Egyptian army in sight, they complain again: (14:11–12)

Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you brought us to the desert to die? What have you done to us by bringing us out of Egypt? Didn’t we say to you in Egypt, “Leave us alone; let us serve the Egyptians”? It would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the desert!

How soon they forget! Yahweh responds by opening a path in the sea for the Israelites (and a watery grave for the Egyptian soldiers). The Israelites sing a song of praise in 15:1–21, but by the time we get to 15:24, they are complaining again, this time because they have no water; God gives them water. In chapter 16, they complain because they have no food, and God gives them bread from heaven (manna) and quail. In 17:1–7 they complain again about the lack of water; the Lord responds by providing water from a rock.8

In chapters 19–31, Moses is on Mount Sinai receiving the commandments from God (the Ten Commandments, the Book of the Covenant, and matters concerning the tabernacle). While he is away, the Israelites rebel by making an idol out of gold (ch. 32). In Numbers 12:1–16 both Miriam and Aaron, Moses’ siblings, oppose his leadership and receive swift rebuke. Immediately after exploring the new land, the people rebel by refusing to enter it out of fear of the Nephilim (13:1–33). In the next chapter, the entire Israelite community rebels (except Joshua and Caleb), in words reminiscent of Exodus 14:12, even threatening to elect a new leader and go back to Egypt (Num. 14:1–4). Korah, Dathan, and Abiram rebel in Numbers 16 and are swallowed up by the ground (16:31–32), while their 250 followers are consumed by fire from the Lord (v. 35).

In fact, in an unexpected twist, things get so bad by Numbers 20 that Moses himself rebels. He strikes the rock with his staff rather than speaking to it as he was commanded. Thus, he is denied entrance into the land of Canaan. Later on the Israelites rebel by allowing themselves to be seduced by Moabite women (Num. 25). Opposition to God and his chosen deliverer is a common theme in the Pentateuch, and we see strong hints of this already at the beginning of Moses’ adult life, even before his official role has been announced.

In refusing to acknowledge Moses’ right to interfere in his affairs, the Hebrew slave reminds Moses of his crime the day before: “Are you thinking of killing me as you killed the Egyptian?” Despite his attempt to cover up his act by hiding the body in the sand, it is clear that the deed “must have become known” (v. 14). Pharaoh apparently gets wind of it as well and seeks to kill Moses, which prompts him to flee to Midian (v. 15).

In one sense, Pharaoh’s response to Moses’ act seems extreme: Would the king really want to kill his son for behaving in such a way without some other precipitating motive? Perhaps something else is going on behind the scenes, something that, once again, the narrative itself does not bring to the surface. Was it against the law for a prince to kill one of his subjects? Or might there be another reason for Pharaoh’s reaction? We have already seen, with his planned genocide in chapter 1, that he is prone to irrational outbursts. Could this simply be further evidence of Pharaoh’s capriciousness? Perhaps, as mentioned above, his strong reaction may be evidence that he is well aware of Moses’ Hebrew birth, or that Moses’ act of murder actually betrays his true national allegiance.

For whatever reason Pharaoh reacted the way he did, his determination to kill Moses drives Moses away to Midian.9 His choice of haven is significant in three respects. (1) Midian becomes a prominent entity in successive biblical narratives. Moses eventually marries a Midianite woman and has children by her (2:21–22; 18:2–4). He also receives helpful advice from his father-in-law about how best to settle disputes among the Israelites (18:13–27). Later on the Midianites become a cause of stumbling for the Israelites (Num. 25) and are eventually defeated by Gideon (Judg. 6–8).

(2) Midian serves to tie Moses to the patriarchs, something we have seen as a central concern of the writer of Exodus in chapter 1. Not only was Midian one of Abraham’s sons by Keturah (Gen. 25:1–6), but it was the Midianite traders who brought Joseph down into Egypt (37:25–36). Note, then, the parallel: The Midianites brought the patriarch Joseph to exile in Egypt; Moses winds up with the Midianites after his exile from Egypt. Also, like Joseph, Moses spends his early years in Egypt in good graces, only to be considered an enemy later on; yet in the end, both emerge triumphant over hostile Egyptian opposition. Similarities also occur between Moses and Jacob.10 Both flee from threat of physical harm to a foreign country; both meet their wives by a well; and both return home with their future wives to meet her father.

(3) Perhaps most significant, Moses’ departure from Egypt into the Sinai desert foreshadows the Exodus itself. As we have seen above and will see below, Moses’ activity in chapter 2 anticipates a number of elements of the Exodus in general.11 Here, he foreshadows Israel’s departure from Egypt. Furthermore, Moses’ intervention in the conflicts in verses 11–14 foreshadows God’s future deliverance of the Israelites.

Moses arrives in Midian and sits down by a well. This scene serves two immediate purposes: (1) It describes Moses’ initial contact with the Midianites and his marriage to Zipporah; (2) it provides yet another example of Moses’ actions as anticipating subsequent elements in Exodus. Regarding Moses’ marriage, anyone familiar with the patriarchal narratives will be reminded of Genesis 24 and 29, where Isaac and Jacob, respectively, meet their wives.12 The clear difference between these narratives is that Isaac and Jacob marry descendants of Abraham, while Moses marries a foreign woman.13 The theological significance of this foreign marriage seems to highlight Israel’s rejection of her deliverer (v. 14). Moses finds acceptance only apart from his own people, first by being raised in an Egyptian household and now by starting his own household on foreign soil with a foreign wife. Once again, Moses’ circumstances anticipate Israel’s forty-year “exile” in the desert.

Particularly striking is what Moses does at the well to gain Reuel’s admiration. His action here anticipates his character as future redeemer and leader of his people. Some shepherds come and drive away the flock that Reuel’s daughters are trying to water. Moses’ role as shepherd of the sheep, reiterated in 3:1, foreshadows his shepherd-like role as leader of the Israelites out of Egypt and through the desert.14 He is their guide and protector. Not only does Moses care for the daughters’ sheep but he “rescues” the daughters themselves.15 In fact, he not only drives the shepherds away but goes so far as to water the Reuel’s daughters’ sheep, something that they feel is worthy of special mention.16 Moses’ attempt to help his fellow Israelite in need in verses 13–14 is met with resistance, but the Midianites greet him with open arms.

So this stranger is accepted into Reuel’s family. Moses marries one of his daughters and has a child by her. Every indication is that he has found a new home and has every intention of settling down. He is a man in exile from his home country and from the people of his birth. Moses is an alien, as are his Israelite countrymen in Egypt; he is finally experiencing their plight. He names his son appropriately, Gershom, which stems either from the two Hebrew words ger and šam (“an alien there”) or from the verb garaš (“to drive out”).17 His son’s name is a constant reminder of his banishment.

In verses 23–25 the writer returns for a moment to Egypt to remind us of the big scene (“meanwhile, back at the ranch,” so to speak). The pharaoh who has sought to kill Moses is dead, but the Israelites are still being oppressed by their slave drivers. Moses may have settled down, but the situation in Egypt is anything but settled. The Israelites “groan” and “cry out.” It is here that the God of Israel enters the scene explicitly. Their cry goes up to him, and he hears it. The behind-the-scenes God of chapters 1–2 is not absent.

Why does God respond to their cry? The answer to this question is crucial for understanding this book, and we will keep returning to it below. God responds because he remembers “his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac and with Jacob” (2:24). Once again, we see how the Israelites’ present circumstances must be seen from the broad, divine perspective. In saving them, God displays his faithfulness to his earlier promise. The Israelites’ deliverance is certain, for what is at stake is nothing less than God’s character.

Throughout this section we have seen how Moses’ acts of deliverance foreshadow subsequent events in Exodus. But now for the first time the identity of Israel’s true redeemer is introduced. It is God who sees the Israelites’ plight. The use of the verb raʾah in verse 25 and in verse 11 is interesting. Moses “sees” the oppression of the Hebrew slave at the hands of the Egyptian in verse 11. Here the God of Moses sees it as well. And he knows; so rest assured, God is in complete control. With these concluding verses the stage is set. The next scene of the drama of Israel’s redemption is about to unfold. How, then, will God aid his covenant people?

Bridging Contexts

CHARACTERISTICS OF ISRAEL’S REDEEMER. In the relatively brief span of fifteen verses, we see a number of elements that together introduce the complex portrait of Moses as the redeemer of Israel. He is Israel’s protector (vv. 11, 17) and shepherd (vv. 17–19). He is an outcast (vv. 15, 22) and despised by his own people (v. 14). A number of these elements are found in varying degrees elsewhere in Scripture.

We have already noted the similarities between Joseph and Moses and how this serves to join Exodus with the patriarchal narratives. Rejection by one’s own brothers (literally for Joseph) and eventual triumph over their circumstances (Joseph by becoming a leader under Pharaoh, Moses in the opposite fashion by the destruction of the Egyptian army at the Red Sea), in addition to the obvious connection to Egypt they share, are significant points of comparison.

Moses as protector of his oppressed people is played out more fully later in his lifetime, particularly at the Red Sea, where the Israelites see the oncoming Egyptian army. It should be noted that Pharaoh decides to pursue the Israelites not to destroy them but to enslave them again (14:5–7, although 15:9 seems to offer a different perspective). The victory at the sea, which is ultimately a military victory at the hands of Yahweh as divine warrior (14:30–31), protects the Israelites from renewed oppression. This same theme is revisited in Joshua’s leadership after Moses’ death, but now the twist is that Israel, by God’s command, has become the aggressor: Joshua leads the Israelites in a systematic military conquest of Canaan. The cycle of judges in the book of Judges likewise exhibits the protective role of Israel’s warrior. Israel is oppressed by outsiders and subjected to their rule. After varying periods of time God raises up military leaders to bring Israel out from domination of these hostile peoples.

The cycle in Judges also clearly reminds us of the theme of the rejection of God’s redemptive work seen in Exodus. The Israelites in those days did not reject their earthly leaders, but their recurring retreat back to sin after the death of these judges was nothing less than a rejection of God, who had repeatedly delivered them from their enemies. It is worth noting here in the early chapters of Exodus the community’s rejection not only of Moses’ leadership, but also their subsequent rejection of God’s leadership (lack of faith at the sea, manna and quail, need for water). The rejection of Israel’s leader is essentially rejection of Israel’s God.

David also embodies many of the themes introduced in Exodus. He is Israel’s protector. When defeat at the hands of the Philistines seems imminent, the young David exhibits uncanny savvy and courage by sinking a stone into Goliath’s forehead (1 Sam. 17). Not unlike Moses in Exodus 2, David’s victory over Goliath serves to presage his leadership as king over all Israel. David’s other military exploits also manifest this theme (e.g., his protection of Keilah against the Philistines in 1 Sam. 23:1–6).

The theme of protector overlaps in certain respects with that of shepherd. David, as ruler over Israel, is the shepherd of his people (2 Sam. 5:2; 7:7). As shepherd, his role is to guide and protect his sheep.18 But David is also rejected by his people. He first has to dodge Saul’s attempts to kill him (1 Sam. 18–19; 23:7–29). Although David is anointed by Samuel, Saul does not recognize that divine call. David’s woes do not end with Saul’s death (1 Sam. 31), for wars between the two houses persist for a time (2 Sam. 2–4). His sin with Bathsheba (ch. 11) begins a cycle of discord that leads to further rejection of his leadership, even by members of his own family; for a time he becomes an outcast, just as Moses had once been (chs. 13–20).

Eventually, the rejection of God’s appointed leaders leads to a division of the kingdom of Israel into the northern and southern kingdoms. During Solomon’s lifetime, Jeroboam, one of his officials, rebels against him (1 Kings 11:26–40), which sows the seeds of full-blown rebellion after Solomon’s death. Israel (the northern kingdom) rebels against Solomon’s rightful heir, Rehoboam, and declares Jeroboam their king (12:1–24). Two nations are born, and both eventually meet a similar fate: exile.

In addition to judges and kings, prophets are also leaders of the people; many of these same themes are found in the prophetic books. Apart from the ubiquitous mention of Israel’s rejection of the Lord against which so much of the prophetic literature is directed, the lives of certain prophets embody these themes. Jeremiah, for example, is the object of repeated scorn by the very people he is directed to help. The men of Anathoth, Jeremiah’s hometown, plot to kill him (Jer. 11:18–23). The priest Pashhur has him beaten for prophesying Jerusalem’s destruction (20:1–6). Unlike Moses, however, his fortunes do not change with the passing of power from one king to the next (cf. Ex. 2:23; 4:19); thanks only to the thoughtful words of some elders, Jeremiah escapes another attempt on his life after Jehoiakim assumes the throne (ch. 26).

Later, Zedekiah has Jeremiah put in prison and then into a cistern (Jer. 37–38); he is released only after his predictions of Jerusalem’s capture by the Babylonians come true (chs. 39–40). And like Joseph and the baby Moses, Jeremiah lived in Egypt for part of his life (41:16–44:30). Some of these same themes recur in the lives of other prophets (e.g., Ezek. 34 [shepherds]; Amos 7:10–17 [rejection]; Zech. 11:4–17 [shepherds]).

There are many ways, both implicit and explicit, in which Christ’s redemptive work is presented in the Old Testament imagery just discussed. In the previous section we saw the theological connection between Christ’s birth and that of Moses. A connection between Moses the redeemer in Exodus 2 and Christ is also apparent. (1) Christ protects his church, though now the sphere of conflict is primarily in the spiritual realm. The church certainly suffers persecution from earthly sources, but the powers ultimately behind this persecution are demonic. It is Satan who wishes to destroy the church of Christ, and it is Christ who, by virtue of his death, resurrection, and present intercession, protects the church from this foe.

Satan is a devouring lion on the prowl against the sheep (1 Peter 5:8). Therefore, our defenses are not primarily directed toward “flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Eph. 6:12). For this reason, Paul warns us, we must put on God’s full armor to resist this struggle and remain faithful to the end (vv. 13–18). This armor is impenetrable since it is a gift of the risen Christ, who has already defeated these powers of the dark world.

(2) Like Moses and David, Christ is also the shepherd of his flock; he was born for this very purpose (Matt. 2:6; cf. Mic. 5:2). He is the good shepherd, who lays down his own life for the sheep (John 10:11); he is the great shepherd, whom the God of peace brought back to life (Heb. 13:20). He does not lead his people astray but leads them through peril and danger until they are safely in their fold (Luke 12:32; 1 Peter 2:25; 5:4).

(3) Like Moses and David, Christ was rejected by his own. Stephen makes the explicit connection between Moses’ rejection by his people and that of Christ (Acts 7:39, 51–53). But Christ was not a fledgling redeemer, difficult to recognize as Moses may have been. He was God’s Son, sent from the Father. One would expect the possibility of rejection to be remote. Yet, “he was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him” (John 1:10–11). Christ’s life was permeated with rejection. It began at his birth (Herod’s plot in Matt. 2:1–18) and continued throughout his ministry (constant opposition by the religious leaders of his day). His final rejection came in his betrayal and crucifixion.

One element of Moses’ rejection helps to bring this theme into sharper focus with respect to both Christ and the church. As we have noted, Moses’ circumstances in the opening chapters of Exodus presage his subsequent role as redeemer as well as Israel’s future redemption. Moses, in other words, foreshadows both the redeemer and the redeemed. He first experienced Israel’s rejection and became an outcast and alien before he himself became worthy to be her redeemer. Christ, too, became like us before he could deliver us (Heb. 2:17). But he did not simply descend from the comfort and prestige of an Egyptian palace, but from heaven itself, becoming not only a man but a despised man—for our sake. As Moses became Israel’s savior by truly embodying her suffering, Christ from highest heaven took onto his own body the sin of humanity. He is the Savior through suffering.

This angle helps us to appreciate how Christ’s rejection relates to us. There are many ways in which Christ fulfills the Old Testament. There is, for example, the well-known triad of prophet, priest, and king, each of which is ultimately realized fully in Christ. But there are other ways as well, reflected in his person and work. Christ not only fulfills the ideals of certain individuals (e.g., David) and offices (e.g., priest), but of Israel as a whole. Christ is the embodiment of Israel’s experience. This is what lies behind Matthew’s unexpected (at least for us) citation of Hosea 11:1 (cf. Matt. 2:15): “Out of Egypt I called my son.” The context of Hosea 11 clearly shows that Hosea is speaking not of Christ’s but of Israel’s coming out of Egypt during the Exodus. Matthew, however, interprets Hosea 11:1 as referring to Jesus as a child coming out of Egypt after Herod’s death.

The precise nature of Matthew’s use of Hosea 11:1 has been debated, particularly by evangelicals concerned about Matthew’s somewhat startling lack of concern for the original context of Hosea’s statement. Nevertheless, the more basic theological point should not be lost: Matthew sees Israel’s Exodus experience as fulfilled in the person of Christ. Since, therefore, Christ serves as a focal point for Israel’s experience, it is important for the church today, which is the body of Christ, to consider its application of the Old Testament message to itself in Christological terms. How we apply Exodus 2:11–25 to our situation is, therefore, a Christocentric exercise. We see our daily Christian walk in light of the condescension and victory of Christ, who, like Moses, was scorned in order that he might redeem. The significance of 2:11–25 for today is bound to the character of Israel’s redeemer.

Contemporary Significance

“CLOTHE YOURSELVES WITH HUMILITY” (1 Peter 5:5): Characteristics of the redeemed. A theme that Exodus 2:11–25 shares with chapter 1 is that of the suffering of Israel while in captivity. Suffering will remain a recurring theme in Exodus until the departure from Egypt in chapter 14. Hence, there is a certain degree of theological overlap among the opening chapters of Exodus, a fact that speaks not of the writer’s lack of imagination but of the central importance of this theme, among others, to the portrait he is painting.

What distinguishes Exodus 2 from chapter 1, however, is the identification of Moses with the suffering of his people. No longer a lofty bystander, observing the people’s plight from the security of his privileged status, he now comes down to experience firsthand what it means to be scorned by Egypt. He does not play the role of a slave temporarily—to see if he likes it. Rather, by attempting to interfere with Egyptian policy, he pays the price for his zeal: He assumes their lowly position.

Christ showed even greater humility, and it is a New Testament refrain that we must look to Christ as our example. Jesus exemplifies the ideal of humiliation seen in 2:11–15, and his standard sets the goal for Christian life and conduct, for those who have been called out of darkness and into his light.

A prominent Christian speaker once remarked to me how he was often introduced before a message or lecture he was invited to give as someone who was a “humble” man—which in his case is true to a striking degree. This always bothered him: Why did this particular trait need special mention? I have thought over the years about what he said, and it seems to me that he has a point. Humility should not be a Christian virtue that is worthy of special mention, as if some Christians possess this trait while others do not. Rather, humility is at the center of the character of one who knows Christ and is known by him. It is not a word that describes a “super-Christian,” but a quality that is supposed to be a distinguishing characteristic of all Christians. To be sure, Christians at different stages of spiritual growth will exhibit this quality in varying degrees; in fact, no one mirrors perfectly the standard set by Christ. Nevertheless, humility is a basic ingredient of those who have learned to hate their sin and to be thankful to the Lord for his incomparable mercy.

Still, humility is a trait that many of us find hard to come by, which may be one reason why some feel it necessary to make special mention of it when they find it. Lack of humility comes in many shapes and sizes, but most of us, I imagine, do not encounter the issue on such a grand scale as Moses. Instead, our daily battles to be conformed to the image of Christ are far more subtle and therefore much harder to recognize. We are pastors and scholars who live in the spotlight, but who serve a Christ who hid himself from the crowds. We are students who revel in a quest and thirst for knowledge, but who serve a Christ of lowly birth and little education. We are homeowners who take great pride in the appearance of our homes, but who serve a Christ who had no place to lay his head.

Humility is selflessness, and this is not a quality taught or cherished by our world. As C. S. Lewis reminds us, humility is not thinking less about ourselves, but thinking about ourselves less. It is not looking back after a day of struggles and remarking at how humble we were today. It is being in such a state (albeit imperfect) of conformity to Christ that the question does not even enter our heads. This is the type of humility that we are all called to exhibit but few achieve.

Humility is a central quality that defines the Christian. It is part of who we are as re-created in Christ’s image, but it still requires perseverance and discipline to achieve. There are times, however, when humility is not something we choose, but is thrust upon us. It is not a question of practicing humility, but of being humiliated. Although Moses humbled himself, so to speak, by intercepting the Egyptian’s blows, his resulting exile was in effect imposed on him by Pharaoh’s desire to have him killed. Moses chose to help his Hebrew brother; he never intended to flee his home as a result. Christ not only humbled himself by taking on flesh and blood, but he suffered humiliation throughout his lifetime, especially on the cross, but also whenever he was scorned or rejected by the people of his day.

Christians often find themselves in a state of enforced humility simply by virtue of their Christian witness. We who are Christ’s ambassadors (2 Cor. 5:20) can expect nothing less than that which our Lord himself endured (John 15:20). We all know how difficult it can sometimes be simply to live the Christian life outside of the safe confines of a Sunday service. At work, play, or school, we are bound to pay some sort of price for living consistent Christian lives—and many of us have our own stories to tell. When we, like Moses, take a stand by bringing the gospel of Christ to bear on all of our lives, the world, which did not recognize the Savior when he came, is bound to react in a manner consistent with its unregenerate character.

The Lord is not absent in this process. In fact, humiliation is one of the means by which the Lord builds Christian character. Moses’ exile is what prepared him to shepherd Israel out of Egypt. His flight from Egypt to Midian was the beginning of a lengthy spiritual journey. It came to a climax on Mount Horeb (ch. 3), where Yahweh announces that he is going to use Moses for a mighty purpose. We can even say that it is the Lord’s hand that drives Moses out of his comfort zone and into the desert. Would Moses have been adequately prepared for his ministry had he remained adorned in royal splendor? I think not. Rather, he is humbled by the Lord precisely so that he may be made into an instrument of deliverance.

A close college friend of mine was a talented baseball pitcher. During his senior year, he was actively scouted by a number of teams. It had been his dream since early childhood to play in the major leagues. He finished his college career in May and had already been invited to a number of tryouts later that month. One week after his college career ended, he injured his elbow—an injury that swiftly ended any hope of fulfilling his dream. He went to the tryouts anyway, but his performance was clearly below the necessary standard. Ever since he was a boy, he had thought of little else than baseball. And for over two years after his mishap, he struggled with the Lord: “Why did this happen? I could have made it. Why didn’t you give me a chance to show what I can do?” He struggled with his faith and the purpose of his life. He was undone.

But the Lord was merciful. This man’s struggles did not last forever. He was crushed, but his grief instigated his own long spiritual journey. I would love to say that the Lord healed his arm and that he became the next Nolan Ryan, but he didn’t. I would at least like to be able to say that the Lord took my friend from a life of baseball and made him into the next Billy Graham, but this didn’t happen either. He is just a regular guy with a wife and children. He has a regular job and a home in the suburbs. But the Lord drove him into his desert for a purpose too. He has learned many valuable lessons of faith. He is closer to the Lord than he was before. His faith is active and vibrant. How true it is that the Lord will drive us out of our comfort zones in order that we may learn the painful lesson that only he is our comfort.

By being forced to rely on his grace more fully, we are being prepared for service to him (cf. 2 Cor. 12:7–10). In making this spiritual journey, we are not only living out Moses’ experience but Christ’s as well. Is this not what the writer of Hebrews had in mind? “Although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he suffered” (Heb. 5:8). We cannot say that Christ “learned” in the same sense as we do. Nevertheless, there is a tie that binds us to Christ, our brother. We, too, learn obedience from what we suffer. The Lord drives us into our desert to conform us to the likeness of his son: “And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit” (2 Cor. 3:18).

The Moses of Exodus 2:11–25 must precede the Moses of Exodus 14. The Christ born of lowly circumstances, who was despised and rejected by men, who died with great shame, must precede the Christ of the resurrection. We, too, must be broken before we can be built up again, for his sake.