Slavery

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Good morning Chapel family! Great to be with you today, and really great to celebrate baptisms, amen? So congratulations to those being baptized today, and we look forward to more of these celebrations over the course of this summer.

So this is an exciting moment, because today is the first day of a brand new series. And I don’t know how that feels to you—or if it feels like anything to you! But to me, this feels like opening up something I’ve been waiting for. You know that feeling when you get your new cell phone, or your new TV, or your new Peloton bike, or your new camera, or whatever you’re into…and you open the package for the first time, and it smells new, and there’s this feeling of possibility and mystery and just excitement? That’s how it feels to me to begin a new series. Because I know that as we walk through Exodus this summer, God is going to show up. He’s going to speak through the words of Scripture into our lives, in ways that we can’t predict or control. And that has very little to do with my teaching ability. It’s because the Word of God is alive, and it’s powerful. So I hope you can feel some of that excitement with me, and open yourself up personally to how God wants to speak to you.

When I think about the book of Exodus, the word that comes to mind is the word “epic.” It’s just an epic story. When the book starts, the total number of Israelites is…ready? 70. 70 people! And when it ends, there are 2-3 million of them. So over the summer we’re going to follow the epic journey of this growing nation from slavery in Egypt to the edge of the Promised Land. And here’s how I’m going to frame this series: throughout Exodus, God is leading the people of Israel out of where they were, and he’s bringing them where He wants them to be. So he’s taking them from here to there. And that same thing—that same movement—is true for every one of us. No matter where you are in life right now, that’s not where you’re supposed to be a year from now…five years from now…ten years from now. God has a dream for your future. God is not a God of stagnation or status quo. He’s a God who leads his people from here to there. It’s true for us as individuals, and it’s true for us as a church. God has a dream for this church’s future. Isn’t that an awesome thought? So all through this series, as we track the journey of the Israelites, it’s going to be very personal.

So the first word in the book of Exodus is the word “and.” They don’t put that in English translations, because our English teachers told us to never begin a sentence with “and.” But it’s the very first word, which tells us that Exodus is continuing where Genesis left off. So in case you don’t know where Genesis left off, here’s the 30-second summary: there wasn’t really any nation of Israel yet. But there was a guy named Joseph, who had a bunch of older brothers who hated him. So they sold Joseph as a slave, and he wound up in Egypt. And through a strange series of events he got promoted till he was second in command to Pharaoh himself. Meanwhile, there was a huge famine in that area, and Egypt was the only country that had food. So people from all around came to get food from Egypt, including—guess who?—Joseph’s brothers and Joseph’s father, Jacob. So Joseph’s whole family moved to Egypt. And they settled down. That’s how the book of Genesis ends, which sets us up for today’s reading, Exodus 1:1, and we’re going to go all the way through chapter two, verse 10. I invite you now to hear the Word of God…

1 These are the names of the sons of Israel who went to Egypt with Jacob, each with his family: 2 Reuben, Simeon, Levi and Judah; 3 Issachar, Zebulun and Benjamin; 4 Dan and Naphtali; Gad and Asher. 5 The descendants of Jacob numbered seventy in all; Joseph was already in Egypt.

6 Now Joseph and all his brothers and all that generation died, 7 but the Israelites were exceedingly fruitful; they multiplied greatly, increased in numbers and became so numerous that the land was filled with them.

8 Then a new king, to whom Joseph meant nothing, came to power in Egypt. 9 “Look,” he said to his people, “the Israelites have become far too numerous for us. 10 Come, we must deal shrewdly with them or they will become even more numerous and, if war breaks out, will join our enemies, fight against us and leave the country.”

11 So they put slave masters over them to oppress them with forced labor, and they built Pithom and Rameses as store cities for Pharaoh. 12 But the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and spread; so the Egyptians came to dread the Israelites 13 and worked them ruthlessly. 14 They made their lives bitter with harsh labor in brick and mortar and with all kinds of work in the fields; in all their harsh labor the Egyptians worked them ruthlessly.

15 The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, whose names were Shiphrah and Puah, 16 “When you are helping the Hebrew women during childbirth on the delivery stool, if you see that the baby is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, let her live.” 17 The midwives, however, feared God and did not do what the king of Egypt had told them to do; they let the boys live. 18 Then the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and asked them, “Why have you done this? Why have you let the boys live?”

19 The midwives answered Pharaoh, “Hebrew women are not like Egyptian women; they are vigorous and give birth before the midwives arrive.”

20 So God was kind to the midwives and the people increased and became even more numerous. 21 And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families of their own.

22 Then Pharaoh gave this order to all his people: “Every Hebrew boy that is born you must throw into the Nile, but let every girl live.”

(Chapter two, verse 1…) 2:1 Now a man of the tribe of Levi married a Levite woman, 2 and she became pregnant and gave birth to a son. When she saw that he was a fine child, she hid him for three months. 3 But when she could hide him no longer, she got a papyrus basket for him and coated it with tar and pitch. Then she placed the child in it and put it among the reeds along the bank of the Nile. 4 His sister stood at a distance to see what would happen to him.

5 Then Pharaoh’s daughter went down to the Nile to bathe, and her attendants were walking along the riverbank. She saw the basket among the reeds and sent her female slave to get it. 6 She opened it and saw the baby. He was crying, and she felt sorry for him. “This is one of the Hebrew babies,” she said.

7 Then his sister asked Pharaoh’s daughter, “Shall I go and get one of the Hebrew women to nurse the baby for you?”

8 “Yes, go,” she answered. So the girl went and got the baby’s mother. 9 Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Take this baby and nurse him for me, and I will pay you.” So the woman took the baby and nursed him. 10 When the child grew older, she took him to Pharaoh’s daughter and he became her son. She named him Moses, saying, “I drew him out of the water.” This is the Word of the Lord.

So as God was working with the Israelites, in order to take them from here to there, the first thing he needed to do was to deal with their slavery. And it’s the same thing with us. So let’s talk about three things today: The Nature of Slavery, The Silence of God, and The Strategy of God. The nature of slavery, the silence of God, and the hope of change.

So, first: The Nature of Slavery. Things were not always this way for the Israelites in Egypt! When they first got there, Joseph was regarded as a hero, so his people were treated with all kinds of respect. They were outsiders, but they were held in high esteem. But time went by, and that generation died out. And like it says in the old King James, a new king arose, “who knew Joseph not.” That king was known as Ramses II, and under his leadership, the Egyptians started fearing that the Israelites would revolt. And their strategy to prevent that was to enslave them. Verse 14 says, “They made their lives bitter with harsh labor in brick and mortar and all kinds of work in the fields.” If you’ve ever been part of a Passover Seder, one of the elements in that meal is bitter herbs—usually they use horseradish—to symbolize the bitterness of slavery. To remember where they came from.

So what does this have to do with us? Well, in the Bible, the bitter enslavement of the Israelites represents a reality that every human deals with. All of us have an innate tendency to become enslaved to different things. And this passage helps us to recognize that slavery in our lives. There is a word that shows up over and over in this passage, especially in verse 14. It’s the Hebrew word avad, and it means “to serve as master.” If you were to translate verse 14 completely literally, it would say something like this: “They made their lives bitter with serving in brick and mortar and with all kinds of serving; in all their serving they made them serve ruthlessly.” And of course that sounds really repetitious, so the translators use synonyms to give it some variety.

But here’s the point: slavery is all about serving. To be a slave means you serve the desires and the commands of someone or something else. And some of you are thinking, “That’s okay—because I don’t serve anyone, or anything. I am a free agent. I’m my own person. So this does not apply to me.” And the wisdom of Scripture would challenge you on that.

I think all of us have at least one thing in our lives, other than God, that is our favorite God-substitute. Does that make sense? We all have at least one thing like that. We might not even realize it, but in our hearts, we say, “If I have this, I’m good; if I don’t have it, I won’t be happy or complete.” And whatever that thing is, your heart is in servitude to it, which means you’re not free.

It could be anything. It could be a bad thing, like a drug addiction, or a pornography habit, or a food addiction. But it could also be a good thing. If you’re in high school, your God-substitute could be your boyfriend or your class rank. That’s what makes you feel okay about yourself. If you’re in sales, it could be the fact that you always outperform the other sales people. And as long as that’s happening, life is good. If you’re a teacher it could be the fact that all the students like you, and they want to get into your class. It can be a million different things. Anything that you look at, and you say, “If I have this, I’m good. If I don’t have it, I feel desperate and incomplete.”

And here’s the point: if anything but God fills that role, then you are enslaved by something that is not worthy of your service. And ultimately that thing will lead to bitterness and misery. And the book of Exodus calls us out of that, into freedom. But now here’s the tricky part: be careful how you define freedom.

Step back for a minute, and think about the story of Exodus. Most of us know the basic story, right? God raises up Moses, and Moses goes to Pharaoh, and he says…what? “Let my people go!” And we always end the quote there, but it doesn’t end there! Because he always says, “Here’s God’s message to you: Let my people go, so that they can go and…(anybody know?)…serve me.” That is massively

important. Because the modern concept of freedom is: “I am free when I have no master; I serve no one and I can do anything I want!” And the Bible says, “No! Don’t you see that’s not the way the human heart works?” Moses does not say, “Let my people go, so they can do anything they want!” He says, “Let my people go, so they can serve God.” Because only then will they be truly free.

So here’s the deal: in order for God to take you from where you are to where you need to be, he probably needs to deal with a false God in your life. And that can be a painful process. But that’s the only way we’ll truly be free. And by the way, that means you’ll be free to hold your boyfriend and your class rank and your sales numbers more loosely—because those are no longer things you absolutely need—you’re no longer enslaved to them—so they take their proper place in your life.

So that’s the first thing: the misery of the Israelites teaches us that when we serve anything but God himself, we are slaves. And God wants to bring us out of that, to something better.

I mentioned this can be a painful process, so let’s talk about one of the things that can make it so painful: point number two, The Silence of God. Try to put yourself in the shoes of an Israelite living in Egypt at that time. Think about what your world would feel like. Your people had always been treated pretty well by the people of Egypt. But lately, there’s been a shift in government policy, and they have stripped you of your rights. You’re forced to work 12-hour days, seven days a week. It’s hard to imagine how things could get much worse.

And then one day you hear a rumor, and at first, you don’t believe it’s true. They’re saying that the government has ordered all Hebrew male infants to be killed. It’s so barbaric, you just dismiss it. But over time, you realize it’s completely true. And this sense of terror spreads through your community. But then there’s this little glimmer of light. Because you hear about these two courageous midwives who’ve been defying the law, and they’ve been able to rescue a bunch of baby boys. But that just makes the king more determined, so he makes a nation-wide announcement that anyone who sees a newborn Hebrew baby boy is responsible to drown the infant in the Nile River. If you were a Hebrew living in Egypt, it would feel like the world has been overcome by evil. Wouldn’t it?

When chapter two begins, the story narrows down to the life of one particular Hebrew family. It doesn’t tell us their names—just says they’re from the tribe of Levi (which, by the way, is the tribe where Hebrew priests came from, and the basic role of a priest is to bridge the gap between God and people, right?—which tells us something about the role that Moses would play one day. But that’s getting ahead of ourselves). So try to put yourself into the shoes of this one man and his pregnant wife. She gives birth to this perfect baby boy, and she’s able to hide him for three months, but then she realizes her luck won’t last forever, so she does this unthinkable thing: she takes a basket, and she waterproofs it with tar, and she puts her 3-month-old infant into the basket, and launches him into the river. What a horrible thing to have to do.

If you were that mother, or that father…or if you were any Hebrew person living in Egypt, I think there would be one huge question on your mind: Where is God? How can God let this happen—not just to people in general—but to his own people? I mean, things seem to be getting worse and worse, this arrogant dictator is abusing people in the most unthinkable ways, and God doesn’t seem to care! The only time God is even mentioned in this whole passage is when he blesses the midwives for their act of bravery. Other than that, God seems completely and totally silent.

And one of the reasons the book of Exodus matters so much is that this sense of God’s silence is such a universal experience. If you read the Psalms, over and over again, you see this cry: “God, where are you? Why are you so far from the sounds of my groaning?”

If you go online and you read some tragic story, and then you scroll down and read the comments, one of the most frequent comments is: “where was your God when this happened? When this child got killed; when this shooting happened. Where’s this God you’re talking about?”

There was a popular song a few years ago by “The Fray,” and the words are directed to God: “Where were you, when everything was falling apart? Why’d you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you?” Have you ever felt that way?

So when we look at the misery of the Israelites, it confirms this thing all of us have felt: there are times in life—sometimes long periods of time—where God seems to be silent. But here’s the thing: we also learn that it’s during those times that God is at work, silently, behind the scenes, using those bad circumstances for ultimate good.

Think about it: don’t the schemes of Pharaoh wind up accomplishing exactly the opposite of what he intended? Pharaoh said, “I’m going to kill all the male infants.” And because he made that law, Moses has a totally unique upbringing. First, he’s nursed and cared for by his own mother—which, in that culture, was probably the first 3-4 years of his life—so he got his Hebrew cultural identity from those early years. AND THEN, he’s brought up and educated in an Egyptian home, which gave him exactly the training he needs for his future role.

So what does that mean for us? It means that when God seems the most silent and absent, He’s not. He’s working for good and justice and beauty, even in the hardest times. Will we choose to believe that? There’s a phrase I’ve been using a lot recently: God plays the long game. That keeps coming up in my life. God plays the long game. Which is hard for me, because I want things to be the way I want them to be now. But God’s not interested in my timetable. So will we choose to believe that God is working deeply and wisely, even when He seems silent?

There’s one more thing we learn from this passage, and I’ll call it The Strategy of God. And for this point, I’m really indebted to the teaching of Tim Keller.

What’s the strategy that God seems to use when he’s carrying out his plan? Go back to Genesis again for a minute. God chose the younger brother, Isaac, over the older brother, Ishmael. That was really unusual to favor the younger over the older. He did it again when he chose the younger brother, Jacob, over the older brother, Esau. He chose the unlovely and unloved wife, Leah, over the favored wife, Rachel, to first make Jacob a father, and to give birth to Judah, whose decendants would eventually lead to the Messiah. God always seems to work through the poor and the weak and the marginalized.

Now think about the story we just read. Who are the heroes of this story? Did you notice they’re all women? And in that culture, women had almost no status and no power. And yet God chose to work through women.

He worked through the midwives—and by the way, midwives were usually women who had no children of their own, and in that culture, if you didn’t have kids you were considered at best useless; at worst, cursed by the gods. So God used the lowest of the low to rescue many of his people.

And then in chapter two, Moses’ mother carries out this creative act of civil disobedience. Because Pharaoh ordered all the baby boys to be thrown into the Nile River, which is technically what she does, right? Pharaoh never said you couldn’t put the kid in a basket first. Brilliant!

And then Pharaoh’s daughter—a non-Israelite—an ethnic outsider—is used by God to rescue the baby.

God uses the most unlikely people—especially people who are poor or weak or marginalized—to carry out his work.

So what does that mean for us? I can think of two things:

First of all, if you feel poor or weak or marginalized—if you feel like a nobody—you are in the perfect position to throw yourself into God’s arms and let him use you. And he will use you. Did you notice: the name of the Pharaoh is never given? Doesn’t even mention his name! But the names of the two midwives are recorded: Shiphrah and Puah. Probably not great names to name our daughters, but amazing people! And we are speaking those names over 3,000 years later. So if you feel like a nobody, you’re in exactly the right position to receive God’s grace and be used by him.

But also, it means this: if you want to be a godly person, go out of your way to love on people who don’t have any power or status. If those are the kinds of people God shows special care for, then when we, as individuals or as a church, go out of our way to care for those same kinds of people, we are at our most godly.

So—three huge lessons from looking at the misery of Israel. We learn about the nature of slavery; we learn about the silence of God; and we learn about the strategy of God.

Now, can I tell you what not to do with these lessons? Don’t say, “Okay, if slavery is when we serve anything but God, I’m going to try really hard to stop worshiping and serving all these false gods in my life. And if God is working most when he seems most silent, I’m going to make up my mind to believe that he’s working even when I can’t see him.” Are you following me? And I would give you this warning for any passage of the Bible—not just this passage: any time we learn lessons from Scripture, the biggest mistake is to say, “I’m going to give my best effort to live this out!” Because you can’t. At least not in a sustained way. You’ll be surprised at how bad you mess it up.

Instead, when we read the story of Moses, let it lead us to the one that Moses points to.

Doesn’t this story sound familiar? The king makes a law that all the male children should be destroyed. Where else do we see that in the Bible? Right after Jesus was born, King Herod made a decree that all the male children should be killed, right? And yet one special child is rescued from that. Hmmm. In Hebrews chapter 3, it says Jesus has been found worthy of greater honor than Moses. So instead of just being impressed with Moses, let Moses direct you forward to the greater Moses, Jesus.

And all through this book, we’re going to see pointers to the ultimate Moses—the ultimate rescuer who will lead his people to freedom.

The passage we looked at today reminds us that God sometimes seems absent, right? But let that point you to the most terrifying time in history when God seemed absent: when Jesus hung on the cross, and he cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.” And realize that God worked through that moment for the greatest possible good, to forgive sins and reconcile people with himself.

See, if you just try to apply the principles in Exodus, it’ll be helpful. But if you allow Exodus to lead you to Jesus, it will be transformational. Because Jesus is the one who can break the slavery in your life. And Jesus is the one who can lead you from where you are to where you need to be.