Moses was born to a Hebrew woman, Jochebed, during the rule of cowardly king who demanded all Hebrew boys be put to death when they were born because the Israelites (i.e. Hebrews) were becoming too strong. However, the midwives who delivered Moses "feared God and did not do what the king of Egypt told them to do...Exodus 1:17" And so Moses' mother kept him with her for about 3 months and then when she could hide him no longer, put him in a papyrus basket and placed it among the reeds in the Nile river.
Moses' sister watched as her brother drifted down that powerful river. Through divine providence, Pharoah's daughter was bathing in the Nile with her servants when she heard the baby cry. Overcome by mercy she did nothing to harm him despite her father's wishes. Rather, she sent her servant girl to bring the baby to her. At that moment, Moses' brave sister stepped out of her hiding place and asked Pharoah's daughter if she should find a Hebrew woman to nurse the baby. Pharoah's daughter tells her that she will pay the girl if she does, and the girl goes to get her mother (if you are following this little synopsis, you will realize that this is also the mother of baby Moses). After she has weaned the boy, he is brought back to Pharoah's daughter, who raises him as her son. She names him Moses, which means "drawn out of the water." That is how this baby boy, the Hebrew who should have been killed at birth, becomes royalty.
Moses' mother was a woman of faith and believed in listening to the voice of God. For me this isn't always the easiest voice to hear much less submit to so completely. But this is an image of hope for me; this woman trusting and taking the heavy weight of obedience and and looking forward with trust. Through Moses's life he sought the Lord as a friend, and God spoke to him through many difficult years. The book of Exodus records many of his "wilderness wanderings" with the Israelites, and one of my favorite scriptures comes from Exodus 14:14, where the Israelites are complaining about their journey. Moses says to them, "The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still..."
And I believe the Lord walks beside me, He fights for me and He knows me by name. He loves me, and I love Him. I try to delight myself in Him and I still feel like the desires of my heart have been answered. But here I am. Choosing to worshipping the God who allowed it.
I know. It appears to be an unbalanced courtship.
I am not ashamed to say that I believe in the truth of the Gospel. I believe Christ died for me, that He knows the number of hairs on my head, and that He keeps track of my tears. I believe there was a real man named Moses, and that the Lord really parted the Red Sea. I believe in the scarred hands and feet. I believe in the providence of God, even when it feels contrary to what my heart desires. But the hurt still stings.
But it stung. I am disappointed with God.
Do I praise Him? Yes.
Do I love Him deeply and with abandon? Yes.
Do I trust Him? Yes.
But God isn’t intimidated by my disappointment. It doesn’t make Him turn his face away from me because I wish that things were different sometimes, in fact, it makes Him come nearer.