How are we this morning? Excellent. All right. It's my privilege to bring the word to you this morning, so let's get into it.

Recently I read a story about a young man who never wanted to be a soldier. He had no visions of fame or ambitions of glory. When his father announced that he'd secured him an appointment to West Point, the boy protested. He wanted to be a farmer or perhaps work the river trade. But his father was not a man to be argued with, and so the 17 year old boarded a coach east.

Sick with dread, he got off to a rough start. Through a clerical error, his name was copied incorrectly and it would stick permanently. He hated the academy. He finished 21st of 39 cadets, distinguished only in horsemanship and mathematics. The Mexican War found him a reluctant quartermaster, competent, but unnoticed afterward posted to lonely garrisons on the Pacific coast.

Far from his wife Julia and the children he barely knew, he began to drink.

In 1854, facing either court martial or resignation over his drinking, he resigned his commission in disgrace and went home with empty pockets.

What followed were the worst years of his life. He tried farming on land his father in law gave him outside St. Louis, and the crops failed. He hauled firewood through the city streets in a worn army overcoat, occasionally passing former West Point classmates who looked away embarrassment. He pawned his gold watch one Christmas to buy presents for his children. He tried bill collecting and was terrible at it.

He tried real estate and failed at that, too. By 1860, at 38 years old, he was working at a clerk in his younger brother's leather goods store in Galena, Illinois, earning $800 a year. He was a man whose life, by every visible measure, had failed. Then Fort Sumter fell. The quiet clerk who couldn't sell harnesses turned out to understand something that most West Point polished generals did not.

The war was not about elegant maneuvers or reputation, but about pressing forward relentlessly, accepting losses and refusing to stop. Donaldson, Shiloh, Vicksburg, Chattanooga, the Wilderness, Appomattox. The failures had taught him things that successful men never learned. What it was to be underestimated, to be written off, to keep moving even when the odds looked long. The boy who didn't want to be a soldier, the the lieutenant who resigned in shame, the farmer who failed, and his brother's store.

Hiram Ulysses Grant, or as the West Point Clerk mistakenly wrote, U.S. grant, ended the war as General of the armies, the man who had saved the Union and later President of the United States. It turned out that the long road had been the training. Weeks before his death, Grant wrote the preface to his personal memoirs, saying, man proposes and God disposes. There are but few important events in the affairs of men brought about by their own choice.

Most of us at some point will know what it is to be in our own wilderness. We will know what it is to wait, to wait through years that seem to lead nowhere, to feel forgotten by God, to look out at a landscape that gives no sign that he is at work. And we will be tempted in those years to conclude that nothing is happening, that God has misplaced us, that our life is being spent in vain. This morning, as we come to a passage in the Book of Exodus that speaks directly into that experience. It is the story of 40 silent years in the life of Moses and 400 silent years in the life of Israel.

It is the story of a God who appears to all human eyes to be doing nothing. And it is the story of how, beneath that silence, he was doing everything.

So if you would with me open your Bibles, please, to the Book of Exodus. And this morning we're going to finish chapter two, verses 11 to 25.

One day, when Moses had grown up, he went out to his people and looked on their burdens. He saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his people. He looked this way and that, and seeing no one, he struck down the Egyptian and hid him in the sand. When he went out the next day, behold, two Hebrews were struggling together. And he said to the man in the wrong, why do you strike your companion?

He answered, who made you a prince and a judge over us? Do you mean to kill me as you killed the Egyptian? Then Moses was afraid and thought, surely the thing is known. When Pharaoh heard of it, he sought to kill Moses. But Moses fled from Pharaoh and stayed in the land of Midian.

And he sat down by a well. Now, the priest of Midian had seven daughters. And they came and drew water and filled the troughs to water their father's flock. The shepherds came and drove them away. But Moses stood up and saved them and watered their flock.

When he came home to their father, Reuel, he said, how is it that you have come home so soon today? They said, an Egyptian delivered us out of the hand of the shepherds, and even drew water for us and watered the flock. He said to his daughters, then where is he? Why have you left the man? Call him that he may eat bread.

And Moses was content to dwell with the man. And he gave Moses his daughter Zipporah. She gave birth to a son, and he called his name Gershom, for he Said I have been a sojourner in a foreign land. During those many days. The king of Egypt died and the people of Israel groaned because of their slavery and cried out for help.

Their cry for rescue from slavery came up to God, and God heard their groaning. And God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac and with Jacob. God saw the people of Israel and God knew. Let's pray.

Father. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts this morning be acceptable in your presence.

Lord, I pray, after my words are long forgotten, that your word would be remembered. Jesus name. Amen.

Exodus is an epic of God's love and redemption of his people. Every scene reads like an action novel. The baby in the basket, the burning bush, the plagues, the angel of death. The parting of the Red Sea, the thunder and lightning around Mount Sinai, the covenant with the Almighty. Before we dive into our text, we must read Exodus rightly.

We have to read it Christologically, that is, in relation to Jesus Christ, who is our perfect sacrifice, who saved us out of our bondage to sin and delivered us into a right relationship with God. When Jesus appeared to his disciples on the road to emmaus in Luke 24:27 Records beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself. If Jesus started with Moses when describing himself, perhaps we can also we also read it historically. Scholars debate whether the Exodus took place around 1446 BC or around 1260. Good evidence exists for both dates and ancient Israel did not work with an absolute calendar the way we do.

But what matters for us this morning is not the precise year, but the fact that it is history, not myth. The renowned Old Testament scholar Nahum Sarna observed that no nation would invent for itself and then faithfully transmit for thousands of years an inglorious origin story of slavery, grumbling and and idolatry. Israel did not flatter itself into existence. This happened. Exodus 2:11 to 25 sits at 1 of the great hinge moments of redemptive history.

The book opens with the sons of Jacob settling in Egypt under the protection of Joseph. But there arose a new king over Egypt who did not know Joseph. What begins as refuge becomes bonding. Hebrews multiplied, and Pharaoh, fearing them, enslaved them and decreed that every male child be cast into the Nile. Into that decree Moses is born.

Wes laid out for us last week that Moses mother hides him, his sister watches over him, and then Pharaoh's daughter draws him out of the water. He grows up in the palace, Stephen tells us in Acts 7:22 that he was instructed in all the wisdom of the Egyptians and was mighty in his words and deeds. And that is where our passage begins.

The structure that we will use this morning breaks down into four movements. Verses 11 to 14 Moses takes matters into his own hands. Verses 15 to 17 Moses flees and is shaped at a well. 18:22 Moses is welcomed and becomes a sojourner. 23 To 25 While Moses tends sheep, Israel groans and God acts.

Start with 11 to 14.

Moses has grown. Now the infant in the basket has become a man in Pharaoh's court, raised as Egyptian royalty. How much did he know about his true background growing up? Wes mentioned last week that Moses mother was allowed to nurse him. So did they still have a relationship?

Certainly possible. There are so many unanswered questions. Did he live with a divided heart for years? Did he spend endless nights pleading with Pharaoh? Was he embarrassed by his background and didn't want to believe it?

We have no idea. What we do know is that he was raised to be a prince of Egypt. But by the time he was 40, he knew exactly who he was and who his brothers and sisters truly were. Were. One day he goes out to his brothers, the Hebrews, and he looks on their burdens.

And what he sees he cannot unsee. An Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his own. He looks this way and that, and when he sees no one watching, he strikes. Strikes the Egyptian down and buries him in the sand. Now this raises a nagging question for me.

If Moses was a member of Pharaoh's household in the royal family, so to speak, why would he have feared killing someone? Wouldn't a royal be able to kill a lowly Egyptian taskmaster with little to no reprisal? This goes into the historical context at the time. Exodus 1:8 says, now there arose a new king over Egypt who did not know Joseph. Commentators note that this likely indicates a dynastic change.

A new royal house with no political or familial loyalty to the previous regime. In fact, during either time period, you believe royal houses at that time were very politically unstable, with different factions having different claims to the crown. The princess who had adopted him was almost certainly aging or dead. And the reigning pharaoh would have viewed an adopted Hebrew with suspicion, not affection. And the man Moses killed was not a slave.

He was an Egyptian official, a representative of Pharaoh's economic and political authority. This is crucial. In ancient Egypt, killing a Hebrew slave was something an Egyptian could do with little consequence. But a member of the royal household killing one of Pharaoh's taskmasters. This probably would not have looked so much like murder.

It would have looked like the potential beginning of an insurrection. The next day, Moses goes out and this time he finds two Hebrews fighting each other. He steps in to make peace, and the man in the wrong rounds on him with words that must have cut deeply. Who made you a prince and a judge over us? Do you mean to kill us as you killed the Egyptian?

And Moses is afraid. The secret is out. Beneath these interactions is something deeper that the New Testament helps us understand. The writer of Hebrews tells us this whole episode began in faith. By faith.

Moses, when he was grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin. He considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was looking to the Reward. That's Hebrews 11:24-26. When Moses walked out of the palace, he was not slumming, he was choosing. He looked at the gold of Egypt on the one hand and the suffering of God's people in the other.

And he chose the suffering. That is faith. So what went wrong? Well, it can be summed up in the next phrase. He looked this way.

That a long line of preachers have lingered over those words and noticed what was missing. As Chuck Swindoll says, he looked east, he looked west, he looked over his shoulder, but he didn't look up, did he? He looked in both directions horizontally, but he left the vertical completely out of it. Moses was a man with a true call, but a glance still fixed on the ground. Here is the heart of the problem.

Moses tried to bring about by his own hand what God had promised to bring about by his covenant. The deliverer was right, the cause was right, the method was wrong, and the time was not yet.

And the proof is what he is in what he does next. He hides the body in the sand, as if sand could keep a secret from God. Within a day, the rumor was loose. Within a week, Pharaoh wants him dead.

Three things to take from these opening verses. First, a true call from God does not exempt a man from from the discipline of God's timing. Moses had the right cause and the right collar. But he ran ahead. And it will take 40 years in the desert to refine him.

Second, hidden sin is a poor investment. Sand is a thin grave. What God means to expose, no man can keep buried. Third, there is mercy for those with juvenile or immature faith. John Calvin's pastoral word on this passage is really helpful.

Even the obedience of the saints, stained as it is by sin, is still sometimes acceptable to God through his mercy. So Moses runs, but God was not finished with him. He was only beginning verses 15 through 17.

Verse 15 begins with collapse. However noble Moses motives may have been, when he took matters into his own hands, he was outside the will of God. And yet God still had a plan for him. This is one of the great promises of Scripture. God uses sinners for his glory.

It's the only kind he has to work with. When you read the heroes of the faith, they read a lot more like a Alcoholics Anonymous meeting than a catalog of superheroes. I can almost see them in a church basement, sitting in a circle on folding chairs, sipping bad coffee, introducing themselves. Hi, I'm Abraham and I'm a liar who pimped out my wife. Hi, I'm Jacob.

I'm a deceiver and I'm a thief. How? Hi, I'm Samson and I'm a lust addicted vow breaker. Hi, I'm David. I'm an adulterer and a murderer.

Hi, I'm Jonah and I'm a racist runaway. Hi, I'm Peter and I'm a coward who denied my Savior. Hi, I'm Moses and I'm a murderer. When Janet and I lived in Atlanta, we had a pastor who was fond of saying that God doesn't look for ability, he looks for availability. God uses broken people because it's his strength, it's his wisdom, it's his power, and it's for his glory.

God would be using Moses, but he had some seasoning yet to experience.

Verse 15. When Pharaoh heard of it, he sought to kill Moses. But Moses fled from Pharaoh and stayed in the land of Midian. There's no firm consensus on where exactly Midian was, but the traditional and most widely accepted location is in northwest Arabia, east of the Gulf of Agapa, in what is now northwestern Saudi Arabia. The Midianites appear to have been a semi nomadic people, so Midian may refer to an area where the tribe ranged rather than a specific location.

Calvin, commenting here, sees in Moses flight not cowardice, but the sovereign hand of God, breaking a man down before he builds him up. Calvin's instinct is that the Lord put his servant through a long banishment precisely so that he would learn humility and dependence, because the work for which he was designed was greater than human strength could compass. 40 Years of palace training had to be matched by 40 years of desert undoing. Augustine, in a different connection, spoke of being in the region of unlikeness that far country, where the soul learns who it is by losing what it had. Moses, sitting by that well is in the region of unlikeness.

Verse 15 ends noting that Moses, obviously exhausted, sat down by a well. One of the beauties of Scripture is the inclusion of what so often to us seems like pointless details. But wells, as it turns out, is an important location in the Bible, specifically, if you are looking for a wife.

In Genesis 24, Abraham's servant meets Rebekah, Isaac's future wife, at a well. In Genesis 29, Jacob meets Rachel at a well. This time, who is Moses going to meet? Verses 16 and 17. Now, the priest of Midian had seven daughters, and they came and drew water and filled the troughs to water their father's flock.

The shepherds came and drove them away, but Moses stood up to save them and watered their flock. Moses is once again faced with injustice. Has he learned anything? A group of young women have come to the well to draw water, and a group of shepherds is going to give them a hard time. Moses, again courageously rises to their defense.

Already we see clues that he is learning from his past mistakes. The text does not record that he killed the shepherds, and not only that he served the young women by watering their flock. For the first time, he was learning what it was to be a deliverer. He stands firm for what is just and begins to practice true leadership, which is born out of service. It would have been unthinkable at the time for a man to perform a menial task for women.

But Moses stooped to serve. And by learning to serve, he was learning to lead. For all God's leaders are servants.

He, in time, the one who is the true and better. Moses would himself kneel and wash 12 pairs of dirty feet and tell his disciples that whoever wants to be great must be a servant of all. Service is always one of the first courses in God's leadership training. Anyone who aspires to spiritual leadership, especially in the church, should begin by finding a place of humble service. If you travel to my alma mater, Wheaton College, one of the most striking little buildings on campus is the Marion E. Wade center, which houses the largest collection of C.S.

Lewis writings in the world. Its namesake, Marian Wade, was an American businessman and founder of the large company Servicemaster. Wade was a man of deep faith who established a tradition called six weeks on the front lines. Every future executive at the company would spend six weeks scrubbing floors on hands and knees, doing the work of those they would later lead. Wade believed that those who refused to serve had no business leading.

One of the other blessings of servant leadership is that when kids watch authentic service from their parents, it has a tendency to be passed down through the generations. The other founder of Service Master was a gentleman by the name of Ken Hanson. Ken's son, Walter Hanson, when he grew up, would move to Cleveland. He started a little church in his living room. And it grew, and it grew to about a thousand.

In 10 years, the church would grow into what is now called Parkside Church. And if that name rings a bell, it would be because it's the church that Alistair Begg just retired from. It's amazing how these things pass down. Moses is being molded. Though he must feel lost and alone, God is right there, directing the most salient detail, refining his champion.

God creates this dress rehearsal. The stage is a backwater. Well, the cast is seven anonymous girls, but the script is the same script that would one day be played out at the Red Sea. This is how God so often works. CS Lewis, in his collected letters, wrote that the great thing, if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one's own or real life.

The truth is, of course, that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one's real life, the life God is sending one day by day, Moses thought his real life had ended at the border of Egypt. In fact, his real life was just beginning in Midian.

There are seasons of our lives where it seems to have been derailed, where the calling we thought we had has collapsed and we find ourselves sitting by a well in some unfamiliar place. The temptation is to read those seasons as God's absence. But this text invites us to read them as God's curriculum. The God who is going to deliver Israel is at this very moment teaching his deliverer how to stand up for seven helpless women at a watering trough.

Nothing in your wilderness is wasted.

Turn to verses 18 to 22.

The daughters return home and their father called Ruel here or Jethro elsewhere, most likely the same man. So don't get confused. Very common at the time for there to be multiple names for somebody.

And he asked why they're early, and they say, an Egyptian delivered us. It's a quietly ironic line. Moses has gone out to deliver Hebrews and was rejected as a meddling Egyptian. He flees to Midian and is received as a generous Egyptian. The man cannot escape his identity, and yet his identity is not what God will make of it.

Ruel rebukes his daughters for leaving the man unhosted. Call him that. He may eat bread and Moses is brought in. Verse 21 simply says Moses was content to dwell with the man. The Hebrew verb here ya all carries the sense of consenting, of being willing, even of resigning oneself.

Moses is not striving anymore. He has come to the end of his striving. He sits down and he stays. The Book of Acts tells us that 40 years passed between Moses flight to Midian and his encounter with God at the burning bush. D.L.

Moody is often quoted as saying Moses spent 40 years in Egypt learning to be something. 40 Years in the desert learning to be nothing. And 40 years in the wilderness proving God to be everything. Philip Reichen notes that whenever we are tempted to grow impatient with God's timetable for our lives, we should remember Moses, who spent two years of preparation for every year of ministry. Zipporah is given to Moses as a wife and a son is born.

Moses names him Gershom new meaning I have become an alien in a foreign land. The name comes from the Hebrew verb garash, which means to drive out or expel. It may refer to Moses own experience of being driven out of Egypt. It also sounds like the Hebrew words ger and sham, which is a pun that means an alien there. Every time Moses speaks his son's name, he confesses that he does not belong.

Midian is not home. Egypt is not home. He is a man between worlds. The Puritans loved this theme of sojourning. John Owen described the believer as a stranger and a pilgrim traveling through a country not his own, with his heart fixed on a city whose builder and maker is God.

Jonathan Edwards preached a famous sermon called the Christian Pilgrim, in which he said that the true Christian travels on through this world as a wayfaring man and looks not upon any of the enjoyments of this world as his own. GK Chesterton, with his usual paradox, put it this way. How can we contrive to be at once astonished at the world and and yet at home in it? The answer of Scripture is that we cannot. Not fully, not yet.

We are pilgrims. Gershom is the name of every saint. But notice Moses, sojourning is not a punishment, it is a preparation. RC Sproul emphasized that the entire 40 year sojourn in Midian was God's way of thinking. Moses for leadership, a man trained only in Pharaoh's court could not lead Israel through Pharaoh's wilderness.

But a man who had himself become a shepherd of sheep in that very wilderness could one day shepherd God's people through it. The geography of Midian is the geography of the Exodus. Route.

The skills Moses learned watering Reuel's flock are the skills he would use leading Israel's flock. God was not killing time. God was forging an instrument.

And Moses doesn't know he names his son after his displacement. He doesn't name him soon to be deliverer or heir of promise. He names him Sojourner.

The man cannot see what God is doing.

Alistair Begg has spoken movingly of how God's people are very often in the dark about the brightness of God's plan for them. Moses is in the dark, but the brightness is gathering. If you are a Christian, you are a Gershom. You are a sojourner in a foreign land. The disquiet you feel, the restlessness, the sense that this world is not home is not a defect of your discipleship.

It is a feature of it. CS Lewis spoke of this often when he talked about the pilgrim longing in Mere Christianity. He wrote, if we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.

The long ordinary years in which it seems nothing of eternal weight is happening to you are very likely the years in which God is doing his deepest work.

Verses 23 and 20 through 25. And now the camera pulls back, just like in a movie. We get a break from the action in Midian and the screen flashes. Meanwhile, back in Egypt. Verse 23.

During those many days, the king of Egypt died and the people of Israel groaned because of their slavery and cried out for help.

40 Years have passed. A Pharaoh has died, another has come. Nothing has changed for Israel. They are still in chains. Bricks still must be made, whips still fall.

And from those brick fields raises a sound. The text uses the strongest words in Hebrew for it. A groaning, a crying, a shrieking that goes up out of the dust. Where does the cry go? To all human eyes, the cry goes nowhere.

Pharaoh doesn't hear it. The Egyptians don't hear it. Moses doesn't hear it. And then come four of the most precious verbs in the Old Testament.

Their cry for rescue from slavery came up to God, and God heard their groaning. And God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac and with Jacob. God saw the people of Israel, and God knew. God heard. God remembered.

God saw. God knew. John Piper has called these four verbs the Gospel before the Gospel, the announcement hundreds of years before Bethlehem that the God of heaven is not a deistic clock maker, but a covenant father who hears the groaning of his enslaved children. Each verb carries a war world. God heard, not merely overheard, the Hebrew implies attentive, responsive, hearing the cry that no human ear answered, the cry that seemed to die in the air over the Egyptian sky.

The cry arrived at the throne of heaven. The silence of God is never the deafness of God. When his people cry, he hears with the ears of a father. God remembered. This does not mean that God had forgotten and now recalled.

To remember in the covenantal sense is to act upon a prior commitment. When Scripture says God remembered Noah, the next thing is that the waters subside. When it says he remembered Hannah, the next thing is that she conceives. When it says he remembered his covenant with Abraham, the next thing is the Exodus. God's remembrance is the prelude to his deliverance, the covenant he made 400 years before.

I will be a God to you and to your offspring after you has not faded. He was about to honor it. God saw. The verb is the same verb used in Genesis 1. And God saw that it was good.

It is the verb of attentive, evaluating, sight. He saw the bruises, he saw the broken backs. He saw the widows, the unburied babies. There is no suffering of his people that is hidden from him. The Scottish divine Samuel Rutherford, writing from his imprisonment in Aberdeen, often returned to the image of God as the watchman over Israel, who never slumbers, whose people's tears are gathered in heaven long before they fall to the ground.

God sees and God knew. Interestingly, the verb stands alone in the Hebrew. There is no object God knew. Some translations may supply one. God knew their condition, but the Hebrew leaves it bare.

Why? Perhaps because what God knows here is larger than any object can contain. He knows their pain, he knows their bondage, he knows their names, and he knows what he is about to do.

Jonathan Edwards taught that every act of God in history is the unfolding of a purpose conceived before time began. God knew. While Moses sits in Midian thinking he had been forgotten, and while Israel cries in Egypt, thinking that they have been forgotten, neither has been forgotten. God is doing two things at once. In Midian, he is shaping his deliverer.

In Egypt, he is hearing their cries. The two threads are converging towards a burning bush in the next chapter. But neither Moses nor Israel can see it. Yet Augustine in his Confessions, wrote this sentence. Thou, O Lord, wert more inward to me than my most inward part and higher than my highest.

That is the God of Exodus 2. He is closer to Israel's groaning than the chains on their wrists. He is closer to Moses weariness than the dust on his sandals. He is not far off. He is not distracted, he is at work.

Four thoughts to close.

First, be still and know that he is God. What we are very often is people who run ahead of God. Moses is not alone in this. Abraham had the promise of a son and and couldn't wait until he took Hagar. And the household of faith has lived with the consequences ever since.

Jacob had the blessing already promised to him, but couldn't wait, and so he stole it with a goatskin and a lie. Peter had a lord he loved and couldn't bear to see him arrested. So he drew a sword in Gethsemane and cut off a man's ear. The pattern is older than Moses, and it is as new as this morning. The right cause can be pursued in the wrong way and the wrong time.

Bradley Gray puts it bluntly. Nothing good happens when you get ahead of God and take matters into your own hands.

Second, the silence of God is not the absence of God.

40 Years passed in Midian and 400 years in Egypt before God spoke from the bush. But not one of those years was empty. God was hearing, he was remembering. He was seeing, he was knowing. If your life feels like a wilderness right now, if you have been sitting by your own well in Midian waiting for a word from heaven that just doesn't come, take this passage and press it to your heart.

The silence is not absence. The God who shaped Moses in obscurity is shaping you now.

In his 1967 book Spiritual Leadership, J. Oswald Sanders quoted this anonymous poem.

When God wants to drill a man and thrill a man, and skill a man. When God wants to mold a man to play the noblest part, when he yearns with all his heart to create so great and bold a man that all the world shall be amazed. Watch his methods, watch his ways, how he ruthlessly perfects whom he royally elects. How his hammer he hammers him and hurts him and with mighty blows converts him into trial shapes of clay which only God understands. While his tortured heart is crying and he lifts beseeching hands, how he bends but never breaks when his good he undertakes, how he uses whom he chooses and with every purpose him by every act induces him to try his splendor out.

God knows what he's about.

Third, your sojourning has a destination.

Moses named his son Gershom because he felt the foreignness of his life. But the foreignness was not the end of the story. It was the prelude to a calling. The writer of Hebrews tells us that all the saints acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. They desired a better country.

That is a heavenly one. Your pilgrimage is not a pointless one wandering. It is a movement towards a country God has prepared for you. Fourth, and most importantly, the God who heard Israel has heard you in a fuller way still. The end of Exodus 2 is a foreshadowing.

The four verbs heard, remembered, saw new, find their final fulfillment not at Sinai, but at Calvary. There the Father heard the cries of his people. There he remembered the covenant he had made before the foundations of the world. There he saw his Son lifted up between heaven and earth, bearing the groaning of every enslaved soul in his own body. And there he knew in a way only the triune God could know the cost of redeeming a people for himself.

If God heard Israel groaning under Pharaoh and he sent Moses, how much more has he heard your groaning and sent his son? The exodus from Egypt is the shadow. The exodus from sin and death is the substance. And the same four verbs hover over the cross. Today God hears your cries that come up from the dust of this fallen world.

God remembers his covenant with you.

God sees you right now in this room, in your struggle, in your brokenness. And God knows exactly what he's doing. Let's pray.

Father, thank you for this text.

Father, thank you for your covenant with us. That you know us, that you love us, that you see us, that no prayer goes unheard, no silence is a waste. And that wherever we are in our life, whatever burdens we are carrying, that you're right here. That you are molding us and you are creating us in just the way that you had planned for us before the creation of the world.

Thank you for who you are. In Jesus name, amen.