His provision always flows downward, furnishing and filling us with his grace and truth right where we are.
Near the end of Exodus 4, the phrase “back to Egypt” can be found four times in the span of four verses (Exod. 4:18–21). While this might not seem like much more than a cursory geographical detail, one wonders what going “back to Egypt” meant for Moses. After all, he hadn’t set foot in that land for over four decades. What were Moses’s memories of that place? Were they good or bad? Did he look on those years fondly or negatively? What did he think about going “back there”? Despite being raised in the luxurious halls of Pharaoh’s place, Egypt represented a place of crisis for Moses, since not only were his ancestors enslaved there, but it was also the site where his entire life was turned upside down. Going back to Egypt meant confronting both Pharaoh and his own personal demons. Included in Moses’s God-given mission was the task of staring down his greatest fears and deepest regrets by returning to the land he ran from.
Nevertheless, whatever Egypt might’ve meant to Moses, the point is that he didn’t go back there empty-handed. Indeed, God provides for every single one of Moses’s needs. He meets his insecure servant right where he is — in his failure, anxiety, hesitancy, and abject need — providing for him out of his abundance. While Moses didn’t possess all the resources needed to accomplish God’s plans, where he was lacking, God supplied, without ceasing and without hesitation. This is just who our God is: he’s the ultimate Giver. No matter the circumstance, condition, or calling, ours is a God who will “supply all [our] needs, according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus,” as the apostle Paul puts it (Phil. 4:19). His provision always flows downward, furnishing and filling us with his grace and truth right where we are. Consequently, the church is understood as those who are sustained by what God provides.
Wisdom in the Fog
Moses was undoubtedly eager for some certainty and clarity on how things were going to unfold. He’s just like us in that regard. At life’s crossroads, we’re often on the lookout for the path that offers the most stability and security for our families, our careers, and our bank accounts. While this craving is both natural and responsible, things take a turn when we start to idolize future planning to the point where it paralyzes us in the present. Even though we yearn to know how everything’s going to go down, not only is this not how life works, but also no one knows. If another human being is trying to convince you that they know exactly what’s going to happen in the future, they’re lying to you. This is true about everything from the Super Bowl to Wall Street to American politics to Gaza to the future of the cosmos. The future is foggy for everyone, and we don’t like that very much.
In what is, perhaps, my favorite excerpt from the New York Times ever, Dr. Mark Lilla, historian, journalist, and professor of humanities at Columbia University, once articulated this with particular keenness in an article entitled “No One Knows What’s Going to Happen”:
People facing immediate danger want to hear an authoritative voice they can draw assurance from; they want to be told what will occur, how they should prepare, and that all will be well. We are not well designed, it seems, to live in uncertainty . . . The history of humanity is the history of impatience. Not only do we want knowledge of the future, we want it when we want it . . . At some level, people [think] that the more they learn about what is predetermined, the more control they will have. This is an illusion. Human beings want to feel that they are on a power walk into the future, when in fact we are always just tapping our canes on the pavement in the fog.
The good news, of course, is that God doesn’t leave us there. He doesn’t abandon us in the fog; he meets us in it and imbues us with his wisdom so we can endure it. This is what the Lord did for his chosen servant (Exod. 4:21–23), although, admittedly, things are still a little foggy for Moses. Some things are revealed, but there are still several blanks that aren’t filled in. For instance, what did it mean that God would harden Pharaoh’s heart? And was he serious about killing the firstborn son? And how would any of that liberate Israel from Egyptian bondage? One thing’s for sure, Moses didn’t know — but that’s not the point, is it?
The provision of God’s wisdom isn’t about knowing every last detail about the future and how it will all unfold. Rather, it’s about knowing the one who does. Yahweh’s words to Moses are meant to convey his absolute supremacy and sovereignty over all things. He was already well aware of what lay ahead for Moses, from Pharaoh’s rigid resistance to the plagues and everything in between. While Moses had very slim insight into what he could expect going back to Egypt, nothing that lay ahead for him was unknown to God. The point is that true wisdom doesn’t speculate or strive to forecast every outcome; true wisdom confesses and clings to the God who knows the ends from the beginnings.
There’s never been a nanosecond when God has been caught off guard. “The onset of any given need may take us totally by surprise,” asserts J. Alec Motyer, “but nothing takes him by surprise.” [1] Thus, while human wisdom craves to know every last detail, God’s wisdom says we can step forward in faith, trusting his words the whole time. For Moses, this looked like clinging to “the staff of God,” which was a tangible sign that God’s wisdom and power were greater than Pharaoh’s (Exod. 4:17, 20). For us, this means clinging to him who is the very wisdom of God with us (1 Cor. 1:24, 30).
God’s Word in Our Weakness
A very apparent theme in Moses’s story is the Lord’s ability to live up to his word. His initial reluctance to go along with God’s plan ends up provoking God to anger (Exod. 4:13–14). Needless to say, this won’t be the last time the Lord gets angry with his chosen liberator, as we’ll soon see. What’s noteworthy, though, is God’s response to Moses’s stubborn reluctance. Instead of shoving Moses to the sidelines, he employs him as the divine channel of his words for his people. “You shall speak to him [Aaron] and put the words in his mouth, and I will be with your mouth and with his mouth and will teach you both what to do,” the Lord tells Moses. “He shall speak for you to the people, and he shall be your mouth, and you shall be as God to him” (Exod. 4:15–16). In his infinite wisdom, God already knew Moses’s weaknesses and was already at work in Aaron to meet those needs (Exod. 4:27).
While God spoke to Moses through the burning bush, he simultaneously summoned Aaron to reunite with his long-lost brother, who was hanging out in the wilderness, where they’d be briefed on their divine commission. After a dramatic embrace, Moses conveys the words of God to Aaron, who then brings those words to the people of Israel, stirring them to believe and worship the one true God (Exod. 4:28–31).
In his fathomless wisdom and grace, God takes care of all of Moses’s worries (Exod. 4:1). His fear that no one would believe him is relieved by the words God gave and his brother declared. Aaron is a paragon of God’s patience, compassion, and mercy for Moses. He provided for Moses in his time of need so that all of his plans could move forward. God is always at work to bring his blessings to right where we are. Much like water, the blessing and grace always flow to the deepest point, where we are neediest. In Moses’s case, his inability to speak is met by the provision of both a speaker and a word to speak. His anxiety over what the Israelites may or may not believe is resolved by words not his own.
It’s worth pointing out that what drives Israel to its knees isn’t the signs they saw but the words they heard (Exod. 4:31). This is paradigmatic for the rest of Scripture, especially the days of the apostles and the early church, where, just as with Moses and Aaron, the signs were exhibited in support of the Word, but never to supplant it (Acts 14:3; Rom. 10:17; 1 Cor. 1:22–24). The wonders worked by the apostles weren’t the point. Rather, they were meant to serve the point, which is always the Word of God who comes to us in the flesh (John 1:14). Like Moses, we needn’t fear if folks believe us or not, or worry about what we will say, because God has given us his word (Matt. 10:19–20). Truer and better than the provision of Aaron beside us is the Word that is for us and in us through the gift of the Spirit. It’s the Word that speaks life, hope, and resurrection in all our inability, iniquity, and death.
Marked and Made Right
In what is one of the most odd and complex scenes in the entire Old Testament, seemingly out of nowhere, the Lord becomes enraged with Moses to the point that he desires to kill him (Exod. 4:24). Some have theorized that Moses got violently ill after contracting a virus that left him on the brink of death. This would seem to explain Zipporah’s actions, as she figures Moses’ condition is a consequence of divine judgment. Those details, however, just aren’t in Scripture. Somehow, though, Moses is about to die, and somehow, his wife knows this and jumps into action. Apparently, he failed to circumcise one or both of his sons (probably the younger one, Exod. 18:4). Zipporah picks up on this and proceeds to save her husband’s life by performing the circumcision herself and throwing the circumcized flesh at his feet (Exod. 4:25). With that, the Lord leaves Moses “alone” (Exod. 4:26).
Besides the sheer weirdness of this scene, it’s also one that provokes more questions than answers. Why didn’t God tell Moses about this before this moment? Did Moses know he was supposed to do this? Or did he just forget? Was God really about to kill him? And how did Zipporah know what to do? While these are good questions, not all of them are answered in Scripture for us. To make sense of what transpires here, a faithful “reading between the lines” is in order.
Even though Moses was raised as an Egyptian, he was still a Hebrew, which means that God’s commands for what it meant to be a Hebrew applied to him as well. Of utmost importance, of course, was the rite of circumcision established with Father Abraham (Gen. 17:9–14). Based on what we can glean about Moses’s parents, it seems impossible that they didn’t follow through with this with Moses himself. All of which to say that Moses almost definitely knew what was required. His failure to circumcise one or both of his sons, then, doesn’t seem to be a matter of ignorance. Rather, it could be chalked up to his “contentment” or even complacency with his newfound pastoral life (Exod. 2:21). It’s my sense that, however earnest Moses was for God’s words, that zeal wore off over the course of four decades in the wilderness.
Consequently, Moses’s encounter with God at the burning bush is not only his divine calling, but also his reinvigoration for the things of God. It’s God coming down and confronting his servant in his inadequacy and insubordination. By overlooking the rite of circumcision, Moses was both disobeying God and effectively saying he didn’t need him. Even so, this is where God’s abundant provision becomes unmistakably clear, as someone else steps in and “touches” the disobedient servant with the blood of circumcision (Exod. 4:25).
Nothing but the Blood
What stands out about this scene is the word “touched” (נָגַע), which is the same word used later on in the Exodus narrative (Exod. 12:22–23). (I’m indebted to Chad Bird for this remarkable insight.) Just as at Passover, God’s people are protected and marked by blood. Moses’ life is spared, not due to anything he did, but because he was covered by blood that was a token of God’s word of promise, and therefore, this obscure scene is one that forces our gaze to focus squarely on Jesus. After all, just as the lamb’s blood was put on the doorposts during Passover and the blood of the circumcision was put on Moses, so is Christ’s blood on us. He who was circumcised under the law for us died and shed his blood as the true and better Passover Lamb. In other words, it’s by blood alone that we belong to God (Heb. 9:22; Lev. 17:11).
Nothing but the perfect, sinless blood of the Son of God secures our standing as God’s people. He alone makes us worthy “to become the sons [and daughters] of God” (John 1:12). The good news tells us that where we are woefully inadequate, all our inadequacies are covered by the worthiness of Another. Indeed, in our failure, forgetfulness, and unworthiness, our plea is “nothing but the blood.” It is his blood that marks us, his obedience that spares, and his word of promise that will never fail us.Moses’ life is spared, not due to anything he did, but because he was covered by blood that was a token of God’s word of promise.
