Original Meaning
MOSES RETURNS TO EGYPT and is now ready to carry out the task that God has specifically chosen for him. We expect a quick, cataclysmic end to Pharaoh’s destructive plan. But this is not what happens. In this section things get worse before they get better. Is this supposed to happen? Did not God say that he would be with Moses and teach him what to say (4:12)? To the detached observer, it looks as if God is still disinterested in Israel’s affairs, and the ramblings of an old man and his brother before Pharaoh are not only ineffective, but counterproductive. What is going on?
After Moses and Aaron perform the signs before the Israelites (4:29–31), they appear before Pharaoh.1 They are confident. They are bold. God has appeared to Moses and given him the authority to do this. Moreover, the Israelites are convinced of the role Moses is to play (4:29–31), which, as we remember, is one misgiving Moses had earlier (3:12–20). Moses is on a roll, and we can rightly expect him to march into Pharaoh’s court with confidence. It is, after all, God who is speaking to Pharaoh, since Moses is “God” to Aaron and Aaron is Moses’ mouth (4:16). The long period of Egyptian oppression is about to end with but a command from Moses’ mouth. They proclaim,2 “This is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says.” Nothing they could have said would have displayed more authority and confidence.
This opening line may be more familiar to us as the recurring refrain in the prophetic books, “Thus saith the LORD.” Moses and Aaron march in and declare that they are God’s ambassadors, and in so doing put plainly before Pharaoh that any slight against their message is nothing less than a slight against the one who sent the messengers. Surely, Pharaoh must listen!
Two elements of this opening sally are worth mentioning. (1) The precise content of the command given to Pharaoh is somewhat curious. They mention a festival to be celebrated in the desert. The command given by God in 3:18, however, is for the Israelites to take a three-day journey into the desert in order to perform sacrifices. One must not, however, draw too sharp a distinction between 5:1 and 3:18, as if Moses is here uttering a command that is contrary to 3:18, since the festival to be celebrated certainly entailed sacrifices. Yet, is it not striking that the first words out of the mouths of Moses and Aaron do not adhere strictly to what God commanded Moses to say? To be sure, he does get around to it two verses later (5:3 = 3:18; perhaps he learned his lesson after the first rebuff in v. 2). Still, his initial utterance is not exactly what God told Moses to say in his confrontation with Pharaoh. We will return to this below.
(2) Note, too, that according to 3:18, Moses and the elders are to go before Pharaoh to declare their God-given independence. But where are the elders? They do not so much as set foot in Pharaoh’s court, here or anywhere else in Exodus. One can argue, I suppose, that we should assume their presence, but the absence of any mention of the elders elsewhere in the narrative suggests otherwise.3 We have, then, two specific elements of 3:18 that are missing.
One might suggest that Moses’ negligence in fulfilling God’s command of 3:18 with scrupulous attention to detail contributes to Pharaoh’s negative reaction in 5:2. In other words, had Moses done as he was told by taking the elders and giving the proper command, God would have brought the Israelites out of Egypt right then and there. This seems unlikely, however, particularly in light of 3:18–20. Already there God hints that Pharaoh will not immediately release the people, for only a display of his power will do the trick. It is, therefore, best not to invest too much meaning in these curious details (or lack of details!) in 5:1. The point of this narrative is certainly not how Moses is unfaithful to God’s initial instruction and the consequences thereof. Rather, the point is Pharaoh’s hardness of heart and God’s miraculous deliverance of his beloved people.
Perhaps nowhere is Pharaoh’s hardness of heart demonstrated more clearly than in the first words he utters in the Exodus narrative: “Who is the LORD?” In time, of course, Pharaoh will have this question answered for him more pointedly than he ever imagined, and as such, Pharaoh’s question foreshadows the irony of Israel’s escape from his grasp.4 Moreover, verse 2 gives us a further glimpse into the true conflict that drives the subsequent chapters. As we saw in chapter 1, the true battle in Exodus is not between the Israelites and Pharaoh, nor even between Moses and Pharaoh. Rather, it is between the God of Israel and Pharaoh. In chapter 1, the previous Pharaoh (his death is mentioned in 2:23) sinned not so much in enslaving the Israelites. Enslavement is merely one of three solutions Pharaoh attempted in response to a bigger problem: “The Israelites were fruitful and multiplied greatly” (1:7).
The Israelites have been fulfilling God’s creation mandate, and the biblical writer’s aim is to present Pharaoh as one whose ultimate purpose is to oppose God. Pharaoh’s role as an anti-God figure becomes clearer here in 5:2: “Who is he, this God you are talking about?” Likewise, the previous Pharaoh is said not to have “known” Joseph (1:8), which, as we have seen, is not to say that he was ignorant of his own country’s history, but that he acted in willful disregard of what Joseph had previously done for Egypt’s benefit.
What, then, are we to make of Pharaoh’s question to Moses in 5:2? Is this an honest question? Should we expect Pharaoh to have known who Yahweh is? Pharaoh’s question is not simply a request for more information. Again, one of the points of this narrative is to demonstrate Pharaoh’s hardness of heart. Pharaoh does not keep the Israelites under lock and key because he doesn’t know who Yahweh is, but because he does not know Yahweh, meaning he does not accord him any respect. At the very least, he should recognize as a matter of diplomacy the God of these slave people, just as he recognizes the many gods of the Egyptian pantheon and the gods of other nations around him. Pharaoh’s response is disrespectful and sarcastic. He is, with disastrous consequences, positioning himself to do battle with this so-called “God of Israel.” Pharaoh here counterattacks: Yahweh’s messengers are not even given a hearing.
Things are clearly not working out as Moses anticipated. He responds to Pharaoh’s rebuff by rewording the command, this time (v. 3) in words that more directly echo 3:18. As stated above, the three-day journey should not be thought of as a lesser request, as if Moses says, “OK, if you won’t let us go, Pharaoh, how about just a three-day trip into the desert to make some sacrifices? We promise we’ll be back.” Moses is not cowering here, as some suggest.5 Remember that the three-day journey is specifically what God had told Moses to say to Pharaoh, and, as we saw in 3:18, Yahweh does not have merely a weekend retreat in mind.
As mentioned earlier, the predominant scholarly view is that “three-day” indicates not the time away from Egypt, but the approximate time it would take to get to the proper site for the celebration without in any way implying that a return to Egypt is in view.6 Verse 3, then, is not a cowering response on Moses’ part, who, after Pharaoh’s rebuff, is willing to settle for the next best thing. The requests of verses 1 and 3 are not really different, since the feast in the desert (v. 1) implies a journey into the desert (v. 3).7 Rather, Moses is now spelling out more clearly the request of verse 1. Moses, inspired perhaps with confidence by the foregoing events, simply cannot believe that Pharaoh is not capitulating immediately to his demand in verse 1. Thus he says: “Read my lips; perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. It is God who met with us.8 He came to us with this message. God is speaking to you now, not two old men.”
There is a lot of wisdom in this approach to the issue at hand, and it should be given due consideration. Nevertheless, there is another twist to this scenario that should also be kept in mind. As we will later see in 14:1–5, Pharaoh is utterly surprised to find out that the Israelites have fled. As I will spell out in more detail there, Pharaoh’s surprise that the Israelites have left makes little sense since he is the one who gave the order (12:31–32). I suggest, therefore, that Pharaoh’s surprise is not that they left, but in his sudden awareness that they are not coming back. In 12:31 Pharaoh tells them to leave and “worship the LORD as you have requested.” That request was a three-day journey. This presents us with one possible reason for why the journey is termed a three-day affair: to entice the Egyptians to follow the Israelites, thus resulting in their death. As we will see more clearly below, perhaps God’s intention is not to bring Egypt to the point of repentance, but to harden them in order to bring on them the full force of his anger.
In light of this, the irony of the final phrase of verse 3 should not be lost. If Pharaoh does not release the Israelites, “he may strike us with plagues or with the sword.” Moses promises dire consequences for not heeding God’s command. Although “plagues and sword” is a stock biblical phrase that represents “conventional symbols of divine judgment,”9 in the context of the Exodus, the reference to “plagues” is too striking to miss. The Hebrew word for “plague” (deber) is used again in 9:3 and 15 (plague on livestock and plague of hail).10 This is not Moses’ begging Pharaoh: “Let us go or God will deal severely with us, the Israelites.” It is, at least on the level of the narrative, a veiled threat: “Let us go or God will become angry with us, including you.”
Kings, however, do not respond well to threats, and Moses’ command is not even considered for a moment. “I’m a busy man, Moses and Aaron, and you’re wasting my time and the people’s. Now, get back to your work” (vv. 4–5).11 Here, too, as we have seen in 1:9, Pharaoh seems fixated on the large number of slaves he has. In chapter 1, the growing number of Israelites was an occasion for panic. As we recall, the first pharaoh attempted three schemes to reduce their population: slavery, midwives killing newborn males, and newborn males being thrown into the Nile. This pharaoh, however, seems to have grown quite comfortable with these large numbers. He has seen what the first pharaoh did not: A large number of slaves is to his advantage, not his disadvantage. A growing slave population is not to be reduced but exploited.
But one similarity between the two pharaohs remains: Both are working against God’s creation mandate—the first pharaoh by means of open conflict, the second by more subtle means. This pharaoh’s eagerness to further his godless claim on the lives of this growing population is made more explicit beginning in verse 6. He, on that very same day, gives a command to counter the divine command just given to him through Moses. From now on, the Israelite slaves will have to gather their own straw to make their quota of bricks. This is no random decree, but one calculated to drive a wedge between Moses and the people.12
This is a level of resistance that Moses did not expect. The obstacles he must negotiate are not simply the people’s disbelief or the Egyptians’ hostility, but Pharaoh’s clever, political maneuver to instill internal conflict. The people have apparently begun to find some glimmer of hope in Moses’ promise of deliverance. To discredit the message, Pharaoh slings mud at the messenger: Moses is a liar (v. 9). Moreover, he discredits the people by misconstruing their complaint: They are crying out (ṣʿq) because they are lazy (v. 8). As we have seen (e.g., 2:23; 3:7), the Israelites are crying out (ṣʿq or its equivalent ẓʿq) because of their slavery, not because they are lazy. But from Pharaoh’s point of view, they are his people; they have no right to complain. Yet it is precisely their cry that their God has heard and that moves him to action. By belittling the Israelites’ pain and suffering, Pharaoh is positioning himself even further into direct conflict with the God who cares about his people.
The result of Pharaoh’s latest decree is that the Israelites must work harder. Such is Pharaoh’s intent, and it serves as yet another element in his handling of the Israelite slaves that pits him squarely against their God. His command, ironically, is that the Israelites be made to work harder whereas God commands that they should not work at all. Pharaoh does not simply reject and disobey God’s command (“keep working”), he counters it with yet an even more severe measure (“work more”). Specifically, Pharaoh says he wants to make their “work harder” (v. 9). Some commentators have rightly picked up on the significance of this phrase. In Hebrew, the phrase is made up of two words, tikbad haʿ abodah, which may be translated “let the work become [more] severe.” The verb tikbad is from the root kbd, the verb used elsewhere in the Exodus narrative to describe Pharaoh’s hardness of heart.13
The irony, of course, is that as Pharaoh punishes Israel by making the people work “hard,” his own heart is “hardened,” which results in his punishment—the plagues and the Red Sea incident. The word ʿ abodah, meaning “work” or “service,” is also ironic. In 4:23, God tells Moses that he is to command Pharaoh, “Let my son [Israel] go, so he may worship me.” The verb “worship” is a translation of ʿbd, the same root we find in ʿ abodah. In other words, Pharaoh and Yahweh are both competing, so to speak, with each other: Whom will Israel “serve”?14
This battle of sovereigns continues in verse 10, when the slave drivers and foremen give the Israelites the bad news. They preface their message by saying, “This is what Pharaoh says.” The wording is surely not accidental but a deliberate echo of 5:1 and 4:22: “This is what the LORD says.”15 Yahweh gives the command to release the Israelites, but Pharaoh, the “false god,” commands that they stay—and he even increases their labor to boot.
Verses 13–14 then tell us that the Israelite foremen, who are responsible for making sure the daily quota of bricks does not diminish, are beaten by their Egyptian slave drivers. This is quite a twist. Would not the Israelite foremen have expected the Egyptians to beat the slaves, who actually do the work, rather than the foremen? The foremen are understandably taken aback by this and go to Pharaoh, thinking, perhaps, that some mistake had been made, some breakdown in communication in the chain of command (vv. 15–16). They say, in effect, “Why are you beating us? Your people are the ones who have stopped supplying us with straw. It’s their fault. If anything, beat them.”
Here (v. 15) the root ṣʿq (“cry out”) is used for a second time in this passage (see v. 8). The NIV says that the Israelite foremen “appealed” to Pharaoh, which is certainly an acceptable translation, but it misses some of the force of the encounter. Once again, oppressed Israelites “cry out” because of their oppression, and once again, Pharaoh does not listen. Yet it is precisely these cries that Yahweh, the God of Israel, has heard and will soon act on (2:23; 3:7).
Pharaoh not only refuses to heed their cry but he mocks them as well. He repeats his accusation of verse 8: “Lazy, that’s what you are—lazy” (v. 17). This is a wholly inadequate response to the foremen’s argument. All they are saying is that they should not be beaten because the people are not given sufficient straw, but Pharaoh talks right past them. Clearly, the lines of communication between Pharaoh and the slaves are not open. Moses’ abrupt, disrespectful (in Pharaoh’s eyes) command at the beginning of this chapter has so incensed the king of Egypt that he turns a deaf ear and now borders on the irrational. Is this not a picture of Pharaoh’s “hard heart”? His stubbornness and refusal to face the facts will be augmented in later chapters, but we see it already here. Refusal to let the Israelites go is, to a certain extent, perfectly understandable from Pharaoh’s point of view. Should he just be expected to let them march out the door?
But his response is much more villainous than that. He has not only made their work harder by providing no straw, but he also rubs salt in their wounds by accusing them of bringing their own problems on themselves: “You are lazy.” Pharaoh has completely turned his back on the Israelites (which is not to say that he was ever concerned for their welfare!). He shows his true colors. Pharaoh is not a neutral figure, but opposes the Israelites and their God. He is truly “absent,” whereas the God of Exodus 1 only seems that way. Pharaoh has cut off all communication between himself and the people. He simply tells them to get back to work (v. 18).
In this verse, too, the Hebrew wording is significant, for Pharaoh’s words will come back to haunt him later. His command is “Go, work” (Heb., leku ʿibdu), ordering the Israelites to go back to making bricks. But this is not the last time Pharaoh utters this command. He does so later in the Exodus narrative, but then as a defeated ruler who finally acquiesces to Moses’ command: leku ʿibdu ʾet-yhwb, “Go, serve/worship Yahweh” (see 10:8, 11, 24; 12:31).16
But for now, Pharaoh’s strategy of disparaging Moses’ reputation among the people has worked. The messenger of God, Moses—who saw God on the holy mountain, was chosen for this very purpose, was assured of God’s presence throughout his ordeal, and by God’s help, has proven his calling to the elders and people of Israel—is now perilously close to seeing his entire mission evaporate before his eyes. The foremen leave Pharaoh’s presence, perhaps dumbfounded, and see Moses and Aaron waiting to meet them. Immediately, the foremen turn on them and pronounce a curse on them (“May the LORD look upon you and judge you!” v. 21).
Note the irony here. Have they forgotten so quickly that it is Pharaoh who enslaved them and who is responsible for this latest insane decree? Have they also forgotten Moses’ display of power in 4:30, whereby they became convinced of the authority with which he was vested? The plan of deliverance seems to be falling apart at the seams. How ironic it is to call God’s judgment down on the very one whom he has chosen to deliver his people!
The Hebrew of verse 20 also hints at the magnitude of the foremen’s ire against Moses. The NIV says that they “found” Moses and Aaron. The Hebrew verb, however, is from the root pgʿ, which can also mean “to strike, afflict.” This is how the verb was used in verse 3, where Moses tells Pharaoh that unless he lets the Israelites go, God will “strike [his people] with plagues or with the sword.” This verbal correspondence should not be pressed too far, but, in the context of 5:1–21, it suggests the alacrity with which the foremen pounce on Moses and Aaron.
In the closing verses of this section, therefore, the grumbling theme reemerges. Moses expects, and perhaps rightly so, to be greeted with open arms by the slaves he has come to lead out of bondage, but they turn on him instead. Yet can we blame them? Their situation is admittedly harsher now that Moses has come. The Israelites’ reaction here to Moses is indicative of their own hardness of heart toward not only Moses but the God who has come to save them, which subsequent chapters will make clear.
The parting shot given by the foremen is curious, to say the least. It is bad enough that they ask God to bring down his judgment on Moses. But they also say, “You have made us a stench to Pharaoh and his officials and have put a sword in their hand to kill us” (v. 21). Is this really fair? The Israelites had been a stench to Pharaoh long before Moses came on the scene (cf. ch. 1). It was not Moses who put a sword in the Egyptian’s hand to kill them. In fact, Moses’ own life was threatened at birth (ch. 2). He is not the cause of their problems, but a participant in those problems. The foremen have it backward: This Moses, whom they treat so disrespectfully now, is not the reason for their oppression, but God’s instrument to end that oppression.
Bridging Contexts
THIS PASSAGE ACTS as a bridge between the narrative of Moses’ commission by Yahweh on Mount Horeb and the beginning of the deliverance from Egypt. It is a prelude of sorts, but one that the reader might not have expected. Any resistance to Moses’ leadership was supposedly anticipated in Moses’ dialogue with God on the mountain in chapters 3–4. So what is happening here? The preceding discussion yields several suggestions.
The enemies of God’s people are enemies of God. The narrative’s use of certain words hints that Pharaoh’s actions pit him squarely against Israel’s God. Pharaoh is an “anti-God” figure, a fact already seen in Exodus 1. Pharaoh here demands the people’s allegiance despite Yahweh’s claim on them. But such posturing is not unique to the pharaoh of the Exodus. Are not the enemies of God’s people always in such a state? We already see this seed sown in Genesis 3. The serpent tries to trick the woman into eating of the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil by placing himself in a position of hostility toward God: “Did God really say? . . .” (3:1). But Satan is not simply hostile toward God. He is, by questioning God’s word, attempting to replace God’s authority with his own. The results are disastrous.
Sennacherib’s attempted capture of Jerusalem (2 Kings 18:17–37; 2 Chron. 32:9–19; Isa. 36:1–22) proceeds along a similar vein. In 701 B.C., Sennacherib, the king of Assyria, sent a delegation to Jerusalem with the news that he was on his way to capture the city. His field commander speaks for him, not unlike Moses or a prophet speaking on God’s behalf. He tries to convince the Israelites to give up without a fight. His rhetorical strategy, reminiscent of the serpent in the garden, is to use God’s words against him. It is no use, he says, to depend on God; it was his high places and altars that Hezekiah had foolishly removed (2 Kings 18:22). The irony, of course, is that Hezekiah was actually obedient to God in removing the high places.
The field commander continues twisting God’s words: “Furthermore, have I come to attack and destroy this place without word from the LORD? The LORD himself told me to march against this country and destroy it” (2 Kings 18:25). Sennacherib seeks to convince the Israelites of their impending doom not simply by flexing his muscles, but by pitting his word against Yahweh’s. Indeed, he himself claims to speak for Yahweh. In doing so, Sennacherib, perhaps unwittingly, declares opposition not simply against this one city, Jerusalem, but against God. This is, in fact, what Isaiah himself prophesies (19:21–23a):
The Virgin Daughter of Zion
despises you and mocks you.
The Daughter of Jerusalem
tosses her head as you flee.
Who is it you have insulted and blasphemed?
Against whom have you raised your voice
and lifted up your eyes in pride?
Against the Holy One of Israel!
By your messengers
you have heaped insults on the Lord.
The results of such presumptuousness, for both the serpent and Sennacherib, are sudden: The serpent is cursed forever (Gen. 3:14–15) and Sennacherib falls dead in his pagan temple. A similar fate awaits Pharaoh here.
In the Old Testament, Satan is not an overtly predominant player in Israel’s affairs. Although he does make an occasional appearance,17 his role in the lives of God’s people is spelled out more clearly in the pages of the New Testament. Satan is the enemy of all God’s people. He is and has always been the ultimate source for opposition against them and the ultimate inspiration for any who pit their own authority against that of Yahweh.
It was Satan who, when God was poised at the threshold of the climax of his redemptive plan in Christ, attempted to subvert God’s plan by pitting his own authority against God’s. At the outset of Jesus’ ministry Satan tempts Jesus to abandon his mission (Matt. 4:1–11; Luke 4:1–13). He does so, as we have seen in the cases mentioned above, by employing “God-talk.” He twists Scripture—in this case Psalm 91:11–12—to tempt Jesus not to trust in his Father. Satan’s pride in dealing with Christ, the new Moses, is simply a more pronounced version of Pharaoh’s in Exodus 5: “Who is this Yahweh? Don’t listen to him, listen to me. Thus says Pharaoh. . . .”
As Christians are aware, Satan is the enemy not only of our Lord but of his people. He is the prowling predator of which the apostle Peter speaks (1 Peter 5:8). Satan’s effectiveness is due, at least in part, to his ability to deceive: He “masquerades as an angel of light” (2 Cor. 11:14). Note the beast and the dragon, who are the Satan/anti-God figures in Revelation. They are persuasive because they imitate God’s speech and power (Rev. 13:1–18). In doing so, the beast blasphemes God (13:6); he attempts to mislead God’s people by usurping God’s authority.
This perspective brings out more clearly Pharaoh’s portrayal in Exodus as an anti-God figure. He, too, is against God’s people, trying to deceive them by pitting his word and authority against that of Yahweh. He uses God-talk that directly opposes what God intends for the Israelite slaves. Just as Moses proves victorious over Pharaoh’s pride, Christ, our Moses, is victorious over the deceptions and attacks of the primal false god, Satan. Our Lord’s death and resurrection are the final blow to any hope of Satan to keep God’s people in slavery to sin.
God’s presence does not guarantee immediate results. Exodus 5:1–21 also shows us that God’s direct involvement in the affairs of his people does not guarantee immediate results. We have seen this already in chapters 1–2 with respect to God’s apparent absence from his people, but the present passage puts a different spin on the issue. It is not that God appears to be absent but then comes in the nick of time to save. Here, he has already spoken; through Moses, he has promised to be present with his people. But when push comes to shove, when confronting Pharaoh as he was commanded, Moses suddenly finds himself behind the eight ball.
We should remember that the problem here is not so much that Pharaoh refuses to let the Israelites go. God said that would happen (3:19). Rather, the problem is that the people, whom Moses had just won over to his side (4:29–31), begin to grumble. They are worse off after the initial confrontation than before, and as a result, the people begin to resist Moses, and the whole plan begins to unravel before his eyes. One would expect Pharaoh to be less than receptive to Moses’ words, but the Israelites’ reaction is disconcerting to say the least.
When God finally announces his presence with and blessing on his people, things may actually appear to get worse before they get better. In the Old Testament, one need only think of the life of Abraham. God promises him children more numerous than the sand on the seashore, but Abraham must endure much before he and Sarah receive the promised child. Approximately ten years pass (see Gen. 16:3) since Abraham received the promise of offspring in 12:1–3, but that promise is not yet realized. In frustration Sarah tries to force the promise by giving her servant Hagar to Abraham as a wife, but this is not what God had in mind.
A number of years later, when Abraham is ninety-nine years old, God promises again that he and Sarah will have a child (Gen. 17:15–22; 18:9–15). The following year they finally realize the promise and name their boy Isaac. Such a delay in receiving a promise is not what one would have expected after the triumphant announcement of 12:1–3. We can see the frustration of Abraham and Sarah both in the Hagar episode and in their open disbelief (17:17; 18:12).
In fact, the entire covenant narrative of Genesis 15 should be understood not as a step of faith on Abraham’s part, but as his need to see some concrete evidence that God will finally keep his word. One senses already in 15:2–3 Abraham’s struggles with doubt: “I know, Lord, that you said I would have an heir. But where is he? I haven’t seen him yet.” God then assures him that he will, in due time, have a son as an heir, and Abraham believes (15:6).
The topic then turns to the second part of the promise: land. God reiterates this in Genesis 15:7: “I am the LORD, who brought you out of Ur of the Chaldeans to give you this land to take possession of it.” But now Abraham chimes in (almost interrupts), “How can I know?” (v. 8). It is as if he is saying, “I have already seen how you ‘fulfill’ promises. What assurance can you give me now that this land promise will happen any quicker than the seed promise?” In reading the Abraham narrative, we should not overlook this struggle on his part. He is beginning to have doubts here in chapter 15. Why does God delay?
But Abraham’s struggles do not end with the birth of Isaac in Genesis 21. As we have seen in Exodus 5:1–21, although God’s promise is delayed, the realization of that promise can sometimes (appear to) make a bad situation worse. After all their yearning for a child, Abraham is told to do the unthinkable: sacrifice him (Gen. 22:1–19). It would have been better had he never been born. In the end, of course, the sacrifice is aborted and Abraham is blessed (22:15–18), but the more immediate point should not be lost: For a time, God’s increased presence in and involvement with Abraham’s life produces challenges he has not expected.
The same lesson is apparent in the life of Joseph. He is the favorite of his father (Gen. 37:3–4). That fact, plus Joseph’s dreams that predict his eventual supremacy over his brothers, cause them to be jealous. Hence, Joseph’s “blessing” takes a bad turn when he is sold by his brothers into slavery and lands in Egypt (37:12–36). Yet the Lord is clearly with Joseph in Egypt. He is put in charge of Potiphar’s (an official of Pharaoh) house (39:1–6). The brothers’ vindictiveness has turned out to be a wonderful boon for Joseph. But then Potiphar’s wife falsely accuses Joseph of attempted rape (39:11–20), and Joseph is thrown in prison. Is this how God blesses—rescuing Joseph from the obscurity of slavery only to have him thrown into prison for remaining obedient to him? Should not God’s blessing look different?
For Joseph, as for Abraham, things turn worse before they get better, although in the end God’s ultimate purposes are brought into view (Gen. 50:20). Without pressing the issue here, it is worth mentioning once again how in wisdom literature and the Psalms biblical writers struggle with reconciling their supposed privileged standing with God as Israelites and the daily turmoil of their lives (e.g., Ps. 73; see Contemporary Significance section of Ex. 1:1–22).
Who is it in the Bible who, more than any other, receives God’s absolute imprimatur and who was sent by God for a special mission of deliverance? It is only Christ of whom the Father said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased” (Matt. 3:17). What greater stamp of approval can anyone receive? Yet Christ’s ministry, as that of Moses, is beset with resistance, both from outside and from within. Would not one expect complete capitulation in the face of God’s Son who has finally come? But, as we read in John 1:10, even though he made the world, “the world did not recognize him” (see also the parable of the tenants, e.g., Matt. 21:33–44). God’s presence is with him more than with any who have come before, but even that does not guarantee the swift, immediate fulfillment of God’s plan.
Early on in Jesus’ ministry he commands his disciples to preach the gospel to “the lost sheep of Israel” (Matt. 10:6). But after meeting with continued resistance, Jesus tells the parable of the wedding banquet (22:1–14). Now his call is not to be restricted to Israel (the invited guests) but to outsiders as well (those on the street corners). In this regard, the learned religious leaders of Jesus’ day, the Pharisees, offer the strongest resistance to Jesus’ work. This is somewhat of an unexpected twist. They of all people should know better; they are the experts in the Scriptures and should be able to discern in Christ the authority of the Father. But Jesus also experiences resistance from his sometimes dimwitted disciples. This is even less excusable, for they are on his side. They have witnessed firsthand his many signs and wonders; yet, as the Gospels tell us, they continually demonstrate how far they are from grasping the gravity of the redemptive-historical reality in which they have been privileged to participate.
As Christ meets with opposition, so too do the apostles. Paul’s letters, for example, show clear evidence of resistance on the part of those whose teachings or practices subvert the purpose for which he was called (e.g., Galatians, 1 and 2 Corinthians). Has not Paul been commissioned by Christ himself to be an apostle to the Gentiles (Gal. 1:11–24)? Why, then, can he not simply go from town to town, wave his Bible around (so to speak), and see the masses converted in droves to unwaveringly pure lives and sound doctrine?
The same holds true for the church as a whole. The Holy Spirit is, as Paul states a number of times, a “deposit” and “guarantee” or “firstfruits” of future, ultimate blessing (Rom. 8:23; 2 Cor. 1:22; 5:5; Eph. 1:13–14). There is no richer sign of blessing for God’s people than the immediate presence of the Holy Spirit in the lives of believers. Yet even this richest of all blessings does not guarantee that our service to the Lord will not take unexpected turns and twists.18 In fact, as Peter reminds us, “Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you” (1 Peter 4:12).
God, by his Spirit, is truly present with his people in a way now that is only glimpsed at in Old Testament times. The Spirit of God actually dwells in us (1 Cor. 3:16; 6:19), and we are united with Christ in his death and resurrection (Rom. 6:5). Yet even for the church, which enjoys such intimacy with God, we have experiences like Moses before Pharaoh; we are positive we are obeying God’s command, but struggles persist. In fact, it seems we struggle not despite our intimacy with God, but precisely because of it.
Contemporary Significance
“WE ARE THEREFORE CHRIST’S AMBASSADORS” (2 Cor. 5:20). Exodus 5:1–21 teaches that resistance to God’s messenger is resistance to God himself. As Christians, we are, to use Paul’s words, “Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us.” The King has commissioned his people to make his appeal of reconciliation to the world (see 5:18–21). We, therefore, like Moses long before, are “God” to the world; we speak on his behalf. We, like Moses and the prophets, proclaim to a dead world, “This is what the Lord says.”
Do we understand the magnitude of this calling? By reconciling us to himself, God has also allowed us to participate in his continuing work of reconciliation. We are not bystanders who are merely “saved.” Rather, the Lord puts us to work, and we labor with him toward a glorious goal. God actually entrusts us to carry out, by the power of his indwelling Spirit, the ministry of reconciliation that cost him his own Son. We would do well, then, to remember just what we are doing when we bring the good news to others. We are not the origin and source of the message. Indeed, we are not the ones speaking. It is God “making his appeal through us.”
One common obstacle to evangelism is timidity—most Christians have struggled with this, myself included. Timidity is, it seems to me, not so much a lack of nerve as a misdirection of focus from God to ourselves. It is forgetting that we are merely the messengers through whom God makes his appeal. “Should I say something? What if they make fun of me? What if they ignore me and walk away? The risk is too great.” This is Moses talking.
Most of us have shown similar apprehension at certain times. I am not suggesting here that “real” Christians go marching forth happily to any battle they are called to fight, while “immature” Christians waver in periods of doubt and lack of confidence. What I am saying, however, is that the risks we may feel in bringing the gospel to a fallen world are put into their proper perspective when we see that evangelism—that is, being Christ’s ambassadors—means, in the words of John the Baptist, “He must become greater; I must become less” (John 3:30).
Evangelism, properly executed, is not accompanied by timidity, but not so much because the evangelist has confidence in herself or himself (a debilitating trait for Christians), but because the evangelist’s focus shifts from the messenger to the originator of the message. This is what eventually enables Moses to march into Pharaoh’s court: not a conviction about his own newfound preaching skills, but a boldness that comes from knowing and being known by God. The message we preach, then, is not our own. Nor are we somehow indispensable in bringing this message to others. We are, rather, the most privileged of God’s creation to be given this most honorable task of being coworkers with God himself to reconcile the world.
The other end of the spectrum is pride. Some of us suffer not from timidity but from being enamored by the sound of our own voice. We do not remember that since the message is from God, any success we experience is due to his supervision and not our own skills, knowledge, or technique. There is no place for pride in being Christ’s ambassadors. We have all met or heard preachers of the gospel who are arrogant (although how to define that word may differ from person to person), brash, and brazen, ready to demonstrate their skills of persuasion as soon as the door is cracked open. It is always tempting to focus so much on ourselves and our own abilities that little room is left for the awe that should accompany the task we have been given. Sometimes, by his mercy, the Lord allows us to fail to remind us of our role in his plans.
I remember a high school experience of mine. I was a recent convert (in a manner of speaking, not unlike Moses after his Mount Horeb experience) and, being emboldened perhaps by my own recent submission to the gospel, the matter appeared clear-cut, so I assumed that others would have a similar reaction. Hence, I did what so many new converts have done: I cornered people, raised my voice a little, and insisted they have the same conversion experience as I had. My focus was rarely on the supernatural power of God to change people’s lives, but on my own cleverness, my “strategy” in taking as many prisoners as I could.
In one instance, I was playing miniature golf with a friend, sharing the gospel with her between putts. Toward the beginning of the game, I pronounced that if I would win, she would have to come to church with me. She, foolishly, took the bet, not realizing that I had squadrons of angels ready to divert her ball from the cup while keeping me well under par for the afternoon. “There was no way that she can beat me now. God will make me win, since he certainly wants her to come to church with me.” I was intoxicated by my own strategic brilliance.
This story has a predictable ending: She beat me by one stroke. I couldn’t understand what went wrong. I was just doing what I knew God wanted me to do. What I should have remembered is that the message is from God, not my own cunning. I should have thought less about my own strategy and more of simply talking about Jesus, proclaiming him and acknowledging the Spirit’s superintendence and sovereign timing.
A related matter, apparent here in Exodus 5:1–21, is nonreceptivity on the part of those who hear the message. In light of the examples of Moses and even Jesus himself, this should come as no surprise. The message will often fall on deaf ears. This is part of what it means to bring God’s message to a world that does not know him. This is what Christ’s ambassadors are to expect. At such times, we must remember that rejection of the gospel is not rejection of us. From a limited point of view, of course, we feel reproached, but we are reproached precisely because we are in Christ, for our identity is in him. The ultimate offended party is God.
Furthermore, rejection comes not at the hands of neutral bystanders, simply weighing the options and assessing the strengths and weaknesses of what we have to say and thus, perhaps, “choosing Christ.” They are, rather, rebels who suppress the truth, imagining that they actually have something of value to add to what the Lord has already said. They, like Pharaoh, pit their own words and thoughts against those of God. A fallen world is rebellious at heart.
With this in mind, I am often surprised by how some Christians react in the face of the world’s rejection of the gospel. The world’s nonreceptivity to the gospel is, after all, a basic fact we face all the time. One example that struck a particular cord with me a number of years ago concerns the well-known controversy surrounding the film version of Nikos Kazantzakis’s 1960 novel, The Last Temptation of Christ. This movie clearly portrayed Christ in a way that, to say the least, had little to do with the Christ of the New Testament.
It is telling that the reaction of many evangelicals was complete shock, as if such a thing were unthinkable. Is it? I remember one flyer urging all true Christians to boycott the movie and register, by letter or phone calls, how “offended” we were. Offended? Tell me something I don’t know! Christians are offended every day, and The Last Temptation of Christ is not an isolated, or even a particularly gripping, example of this. Rejection of the gospel is part of the territory. Frankly, I doubt if “offense” is a proper reaction for Christians. Offense implies some injury to one’s person, but as we have seen above, we are not the ones offended. This may be how the world reacts, but our message is from the Lord. Perhaps a better strategy would have been not to focus on our own feelings about the movie (“I don’t like it; I don’t like what it says about Christ; it makes me feel uncomfortable or offended”) but on the true Christ that the movie never came close to portraying.
Another issue concerns Christians and the public schools. As a parent of three young children, I am not at all encouraged by some elements of public education today. My list of concerns includes intellectual, social, and spiritual matters. Different Christian parents handle their concerns in different ways. Some choose to home-school, others send their children to private schools, while still others remain in the system, perhaps to maintain a witness for Christ where it is so sorely needed (for the record, as I write this, each of our three children is in one of these settings). Others take a more aggressive route. They work to have laws passed that, for example, allow for displaying the Ten Commandments in hallways or that disallow certain views to be taught.
My purpose here is not to pass judgment on this latter group, for they apparently see an urgency I do not. My point is that when their message falls on deaf ears, they become angry, offended, and outraged. Picket lines form, television cameras begin to roll, and sound bites are captured with picketers referring to our founding fathers and their plan to have Jesus in every classroom. I am not suggesting here that we should leave everything as it is and not challenge the system. The problem is in thinking that our views “ought” to be given a fair hearing in the free market of ideas, that we somehow deserve to be heard because we are Christians or perhaps because we have a notion of the Christian “roots” of America. Then, when the message is not heard, we grow angry and even militant.
It remains an inescapable fact that our world today is no more receptive to God’s will than the Egypt of Pharaoh’s day. Our reaction to opposition should not be outrage, as if we are the ones offended, or surprise, as if American hearts are somehow less rebellious toward God. Rather, our reaction should be one of godliness and patience, knowing that the message belongs to the Lord and he will set things aright. We must rise above the fray, the plans and schemes of humanity, with a godly confidence that comes only from knowing Christ and being known by him.
One final related thought may be particularly relevant to new Christians and those who are just beginning their ministries: Rejection is hard to take. Many recent seminary graduates naively enter their first position with stars in their eyes, convinced that their difficult years of training are behind them and now they can begin to “do” ministry. It doesn’t take long before they begin wishing that their biggest problems were language exams and exegetical papers. Resistance, as Exodus 5:1–21 reminds us, can come not only from the outside but also from within, from God’s own people. Evangelistic programs don’t work as well as anticipated. Ministries oriented to the congregation are met with skepticism and complaints. Moses, too, was bold at the outset of his ministry after his initial encounter with God on Mount Horeb, and he met considerable resistance both from without and within. But Moses was soon to learn that he was merely the messenger and that his “ministry” was really the Lord’s work.
Likewise, young Christians sometimes approach their newfound faith with a childlike vigor. This is normal and to be expected. But this youthfulness must be properly discipled by more experienced Christians. How many Christians have lived the parable of the sower? Their enthusiasm for the gospel wanes in time and their fruit withers in shallow, rocky soil. They must be taken under wing and reminded again and again that there is nothing that endures in our Christian lives but the grace of God. When we meet resistance from friends and family, it is time to channel our enthusiasm into a more mature form of spirituality: patience and a quiet heart. It is time to learn, as did Moses and countless saints throughout the Bible, the meaning of the often repeated but seldom understood phrase: “God is in control.” It is this lesson that Moses begins to learn in the following passage.