Skip to main content

A Parental Faith

"By faith, when Moses was born, his parents hid him for three months, because they saw the child was beautiful and they were not afraid of the king's edict."
Hebrews 11:23

photo credit: shop.kmberggren.com


Continuing from yesterday, I wanted to stay in Hebrews 11 giving special attention to Moses' parents. 

Slaves.  They knew suffering.  From what we know about the living conditions under Pharaoh, they lived their days laboring to build the kind's gluttonous kingdom.  They remembered the days when their ancestor, Joseph, was second in command to all of Egypt.  They remembered freedom and told their children about the days of long-ago when they walked through the countryside, tending sheep, growing their own bountiful harvests, and worshipped on humble alters built to their God.

They knew that their own people had rejected their God.  It grieved them.  For they were reaping the punishment of a disobedient people.  

Moses' mother had not heard of the new law directly from the king's lips but she had heard the wailing of the childless mothers--mothers that for the last nine months she had watched grow.  
Bellies grow.
Excitement grow. 
And now anguish.  It flowed through the camp like a flood.  A foreshadowing of the Passover spirit on the Egyptian firstborn.  
Or the Red Sea waters over Pharaoh's army.

And Moses' mother was also expecting, though her belly was still flat.  She and her husband were resolved to save this child.  They were not afraid.

And when Moses was born, he was radiant.  His parents saw that he was beautiful and healthy.  
A deliverer.

Unlike the majority of their own people, Moses' parents had no fear in the earthly king.  Holding their new boy, they whispered to each other, and to their son, in the dark.
"The king is just a man.  Our God is God.  He will deliver our son.  He will deliver us."

They had no fear.
They had faith.
They had a great hope.




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

What it means when a narcissistic pastor says, "I love the church"

I ran across this article while going through a rough place in my life.  It had profound meaning for me in dealing with some of the individuals in my life that have narcissistic traits. The article highlights the fact that when a narcissist says, “I love you,” he really means that he loves the way that you (fill in the blank): take care of his needs, focus your energy on him, submit, etc. Individuals that have been in relationships with narcissists often admit to feeling crazy, not recognizing the abuse while it was occurring, and to keeping secrets to cover for his abuse, infidelity, etc.  I wonder if this is what many people are recognizing in the #exevangelical movement.  Because as I was going through this article again, I began to realize that many of the narcissistic traits could be applied to the many pastors and men in church leadership that I have known through the years. Being in church ministry for twelve years, I became proficient at silence and lies to cover the behavior…

To "speak the truth in love" does not mean "reprimand"

"...speaking the truth in love..." Ephesians 4:15
Notice the "dot, dot, dot," before and after that phrase?  But how many times have you heard it as a full sentence?  Speak the Truth in love.  As a full sentence, it loses all context.  And how often is this phrase used as an excuse to reprimand another "in love" and tell them about their multitude of sins?
The New Living Translation has a completely different take on this phrase.  It states, "we will hold to the truth in love."  Now, that changes it a bit, doesn't it?  That makes the action about me and not about me acting on another.  
In context, Ephesians 4 is talking about the Body of Christ and how we must work to grow up and mature in the Lord.  "Then we will no longer be like children, forever changing our minds about what we believe..."  The work is for each of us to grow up and cling to the Lord's love.  
And what Truth are we clinging to?  It is the truth that we are d…

Trauma is like a bee in the sand

My professor was teaching on the power of language- the power words have over us- when he used the example of the beach. He told us to remember the last time we were at the beach. The warm sand, the relaxing sounds, etc...

It took me back to Mazatlan. I left the resort pool and walked down the small steps to the beach where vendors were selling dresses, sunglasses, jewelry. The sand was warm on my bare feet and I walked quietly through the dry sand, my face to the sun, the wind in my hair... When a pain shot up through the ball of my foot into my ankle. I looked down to see a bee still stuck in the flesh of my foot. I was immediately angry. I looked around to see hundreds of bees in the sand. They had built a nest nearby in the base of a rock and a hotel worker was trying to kill them by covering them with sand... Not a great plan.

As I thought about this in class, I remember that it felt offensive. I was enjoying the stillness, the relaxation. True, I stepped on the bee so technical…