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Moses: A Marked Man
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Today we're talking about Moses—Mo for short. Is that okay? Mo for short.
If you don't know much about his story, Pastor Ryan kicked us off last week. Moses was born a Hebrew boy in the land of Egypt during a time when the people of God had been enslaved for over 400 years. Long story short—you can go to Exodus and read it—he was raised in the palace. One day he saw an Egyptian soldier beating one of his own people. He gets upset, he steps in, he kills the man, gets caught, realizes it, and he scrams. He runs as far away as he can, out of Egypt, and ends up settling down with a lady and tending his father-in-law's sheep.
It's there that God encounters Moses in one of the most incredible ways—through the burning bush. In that moment, God commissions him to go back to Egypt, the very place he swore he'd never return to. God says, "You're the guy. I'm sending you back. You're going to confront Pharaoh. You're going to lead the people out of slavery into the promised land."
Moses objects for a bunch of reasons, but ultimately says, "Okay, I'll do it." He makes his way to confront Pharaoh with some of the most famous words in history:
"Pharaoh, let my people go."
Have you heard these words before?
I've got to confess—as I read the text and prayed about today, a song kept popping into my head. I grew up in church in the '90s, which means I was in kids ministry in the '90s. When we sang songs and learned Bible stories, they always came with hand motions. So I hear these words a little differently. Pray for your children's pastors, okay? I'm a product of kids ministry.
Here's the thing: Pharaoh said no. And then he said no again and again. So God said, "Okay, you want to play ball this way? This is what we're going to do." He sends plagues—locusts, gnats, dead cows, hail from heaven. After ten plagues, Pharaoh finally has enough and says, "Get out of here." Moses is like, "Okay, it worked. Let's roll."
This is where our text picks up in Exodus 13, starting in verse 17:
"When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, although it was near. For God said, lest the people change their minds when they see war and return to Egypt. But God led the people around by the way of the wilderness toward the Red Sea. And the people of Israel went up out of the land of Egypt, equipped for battle... And the Lord went before them by day in a pillar of cloud to lead them along the way, and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, that they might travel by day and by night."
The title of the message is this: By Day and By Night.
The people of God have been taken out of the familiar place of slavery in Egypt, and they're led the long route. How many of you love going the long way? I've got kids—"Are we almost there yet?" "This is the way we're going."
You've got to understand: these people are tired. They're not just hungry, they're hangry. You're not yourself when you're hungry. They are tired, hungry, overwhelmed, and scared out of their minds as they approach the Red Sea.
But the story gets worse. Why? Because Pharaoh changed his mind. Picture him planning to build a great new pyramid and a great new statue of himself. "Who's going to build it? You just sent two million people away." "Good point. Let's go get them."
So he sends the Egyptian army back after the people of God. We read in Exodus 14, starting in verse 10:
"When Pharaoh drew near, the people of Israel lifted up their eyes, and behold, the Egyptians were marching after them, and they feared greatly."
Picture the scene. These people have been in a bad situation for 400 years. Finally Moses convinces them, "God has a promised land waiting for you, flowing with milk and honey"—essentially, in our day and age, free Wi-Fi and coffee. They've got a glimmer of hope, even though they're exhausted, burned out, and scared straight.
Now they're staring at the Red Sea—an impassible body of water. And behind them they hear the chariot wheels turning over and over, the Egyptian army closing in. They are stuck between an impassible sea in front of them and impossible odds behind them. No wonder the Bible says they feared greatly.
This is a Red Sea moment—stuck between the seemingly impossible before you and the impossible behind you. You can't go forward, and you can't turn back.
For us today, it's not a matter of if we will face Red Sea moments. It's a matter of when. Maybe this has been true in your life:
I don't know what kind of Red Sea moment you're facing. But it is not a matter of if—it's a matter of when. And how we respond determines a lot about the kind of future we step into.
Moses knows they're in a bad way. He knows they're scared, tired, fatigued. They're going, "Why did you lead us to a dead end? Now Egypt and their entire army are chasing us."
So Moses—the leader that he is—has the locker room moment of all moments. He gathers the people and says in Exodus 14:13–14:
"Fear not. Stand firm. See the salvation of the Lord, which he will work for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again... The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent."
We can face our Red Sea moments if we will make the right decisions before the miracle happens. It's time we do what Moses told the people to do.
We have to make the decision to fear not. You know why? Because fear is a liar.
What the voice of fear will whisper in your ear is this: it will try to get you to co-write a script for a future that God has not co-signed on. And then it will get you to watch that script like a movie—what if this happens, what if they say that, what if this wrong thing happens. Most of these things will never happen. But we've already watched the film. We've committed to it as reality.
Before long, we're like these iguanas in Florida in the wintertime. When the weather drops below 60 degrees, the iguanas in the trees freeze over, paralyze, fall out, and die. They allow their circumstances to dictate how they live. The spirit of fear grips us in the same way, preventing us from stepping into the future God has called us into.
It's not wrong to be afraid. I'm still afraid of the dark, afraid of heights—maybe the Lord will deliver me someday. It's not bad to be afraid, but we cannot be enslaved, gripped, and paralyzed by fear.
Pastor Todd has said this: fear and faith have the same definition. It's believing that what you cannot see is going to happen. And whichever one you come into agreement with will change your life.
"God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and self-control." — 2 Timothy 1:7
You might feel afraid, but that's not a spirit from God. You can tap into the power of God and the sound mind that He offers. If it's not from God, it's not for me. If it's not from God, it's not for you.
The next decision stacks on the first: I'm not going to fear, and I will stand firm. This is about getting our position right—getting our footing right, because life's circumstances have caught us off guard.
The Bible says the righteous shall never be moved. There's a promise that when we do life with God, although we might buckle and bend and sway, we'll stay firm because we know who is with us. The psalmist says:
"He is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord." — Psalm 112:7
Some of us feel everything but firm. "I feel like I'm just tripping through life. Every time I get my footing, something sideswipes me." What if we made the radical commitment to stand firm on the Word of God—to say, "When I don't know what else to do, I know where to go. I'm going to stand firm on what God says is true about His promises, about who I am, and about who He is."
If we'll stand firm in the Word, we'll be able to stand the storms we face. Maybe it looks like making Sundays and groups a priority—standing firm in biblical community, with brothers and sisters who will hold us up when we're tired.
Did you notice that when the people's eyes were lifted up on Pharaoh, that's when fear came? So we need to lift our eyes onto the Lord.
We've got to lift our eyes not onto the problem, but onto the problem solver. And did you know there's no such thing as a problem for God—because He's God? He can solve anything He wants.
Moses tells the people, "Lift your eyes. Look and see the salvation of the Lord, the deliverance, the freedom that He will work for you today." He's trying to get their eyes off their problems—off the things in front of them and behind them—and onto the Father.
What if we flipped the script? When we see what looks like a bad report, we interpret it as an opportunity for God to show up. What looks like a dead end might just be a doorway if God's in it. How we see things is really important.
And then my favorite decision—if I'm honest, and if you were honest over a cup of coffee and free Wi-Fi—it's letting God work.
Moses says, "See the salvation of the Lord that He will work for you... The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent." We don't like that. We like to be hands-on.
Oftentimes I think I can solve things better than God can. "You just don't understand—if I do this and that and the other thing, it'll work out." But there's one God, and we're not Him. When God does what God does, things change.
Have you ever been to a dinner party where there are too many cooks in the kitchen? Especially if you're the one hosting? "Would you just—I've got it." I imagine God up in heaven looking down at us facing our Red Sea moments, and we keep putting our hands in the kitchen. He says, "Let Me cook a bit. Let Me be the cook in the kitchen. Because what I can cook up is for you. I'm the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. I've got a better recipe. I've got better timing. I know when to put it in and when to take it out. If you'll let Me cook, I'll do things you could never do."
Remember: God doesn't sleep. When you put your head on the pillow, He's still working. Even when you can't see it, He's cooking. He's in rooms you're not in. He's hearing conversations you don't hear.
"For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." — Isaiah 55:9
It's time to let God work. Give up control. Give up the reins.
Moses sees the people freaking out at a dead end. He raises his cry, changes their position and posture, so they could do all they could do—so that God could do all that only He could do. Exodus 14, starting in verse 19:
"Then the angel of God who was going before the host of Israel moved and went behind them, and the pillar of cloud moved from before them and stood behind them, coming between the host of Egypt and the host of Israel. And there was the cloud and the darkness. And it lit up the night without one coming near the other all night. Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and the Lord drove the sea back by a strong east wind all night and made the sea dry land, and the waters were divided. And the people of Israel went into the midst of the sea on dry ground, the waters being a wall to them on their right hand and on their left."
What a scene—straight out of a movie.
When things look bleak and dark, God changes position. The angel of the Lord who was leading from the front moves to the back, coming between what was crashing down on the people. Because the God we serve goes before us, behind us, and stands between.
Then Moses stretches out his hand, and the Lord splits the impassible sea. The waters part, and the people move into what seemed impassible—because God is still a way-making, miracle-working God. If He's done it before, He can do it again. We serve a God who specializes in the impossible, the improbable, and even the illogical—"that doesn't make sense, but God."
Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forever. If He's done it before, He can do it again.
But the greatest miracle is not just that God split the sea. The greatest miracle is that God was with them as they went.
God is with you today. He's not unfamiliar with what you're stuck between. He's not unacquainted with your sorrows or your struggles or the things that feel impassible or impossible. He leads you, He comes behind you, and He's even willing to stand between.
If you're anything like me, I could see God part the waters and I'd start walking toward the promised land—and then get stuck looking at those intimidating walls of water. "I know God started something, but what if these things crash down on me? What if God pulls the rug out from under me?" Some of us are even asking, "Does anybody have a tarp? Joe, you got that yacht? Bring it over, just in case." A contingency plan.
And I think God is going, "Hey, I'm the One who split the sea. Stand firm. Walk forward. Lift your eyes. Let Me work." What God starts in salvation, He will sustain to the end. He's not just the One who makes a way—He's the One who keeps making a way.
Yes, God used Moses and marked him and changed the course of history. But make no mistake about who drove those waters back that day.
Moses parted his hands, and the sea was split. But there would come One who would stretch out His hands and pardon sin. Moses is a type of the Christ to come—One who wouldn't just deliver a nation from slavery, but would deliver all of humanity from the Pharaoh of pharaohs, through the impassible sea of our sin.
Jesus would hang on the cross and come between what was coming after us. Here we are, stuck between the sea of our sin and the judgment behind us. And the cross of Jesus stands between—by day and by night.
On the other side of the cross, where Jesus took the sin of the world and hung on a tree—doesn't that look familiar?—He made what was impassible possible, because He loves you.
On this side of the story, where the cross stands between, we take what were just instructions and turn them into declarations:
"I will not fear."
Make that a declaration in your own life, because the cross of Jesus stands between.
What are you up against today? Bills that are due? Family tension? A relationship on the rocks? A son or daughter far from God?
It's hard to say "I'm not going to fear" when you're looking at a Red Sea. I've been there. Six years ago, in 2020, my wife was giving birth to my son Judah, and in the hospital she blew discs in her back. She was bedridden for about ten months and developed severe anxiety and depression. I was a new dad, pastoring people, and every night I'd put my hands on her, plead the blood of Jesus for healing and breakthrough—and day after day, nothing.
I remember sitting on the floor, saying, "I know You're a way maker, but I'm struggling with fear. I don't know if we'll ever have kids again. I don't know if she'll ever walk again. I don't know what the future holds." And I recognized this: it's the cross of Jesus that, in the moment of panic and fear, allows peace to swell. It didn't make it easy, but it was a decision to sit on the floor and say, "I will not fear. I will stand firm."
What does it look like for you to:
What's the thing you're struggling to give up control of? The best hands for it to be in are His. Those hands can hold waters up, part seas, do miracles, bring light into dark places, raise dead bodies, heal eyes. He can do the miraculous—but we have to let Him. So let's stop white-knuckling life and say, "God, I'll let You work."
And ultimately, when we're facing the impassible and the impossible, out of our own mouths we can say:
"I will trust God—by day and by night."
In just a few moments we'll have a time to pray and worship and see God move. But here's the truth: all of these declarations, as powerful as they are, hinge on one question—Have you trusted Jesus with your life?
He wants to come between. And when He comes between, He will redeem, He will restore, He will make a way. The greatest miracle in the history of mankind is that Jesus Christ would die on a tree to take on the sins of the world—your sin and my sin. When we surrender our lives to Jesus, He stands between. He is the way, the truth, and the life. That sea gets split, and you make your way to heaven to be with God.
If you've never given your life to Jesus, but you're saying, "I want the cross to come between. I want to go all in with Jesus"—today is your day. At the count of three, raise your hand and say, "That's me." One, two, three—raise your hand.
Let's pray together as a community of faith:
Dear Lord Jesus, thank You for dying on the cross for me—for making a way where there was no way. I invite You into my life today. Forgive me of all my sin. Make me new from the inside out. Fill me with Your Holy Spirit, and I will live for You the rest of my life. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen.
Some of you are up against real Red Sea moments. "Ty, you don't know my circumstances. It really seems impossible." Maybe you're a business owner spinning out of control. Maybe you're a parent who's watched your children walk away from God. Maybe you're longing to take the next step and it feels like God isn't speaking. Maybe you've got a body injury and you're waiting for God to split a sea. Maybe you're between the diagnosis and the miracle, or the desire and the outcome.
We serve a God who still splits seas. He's a way-making kind of God, and I believe He wants to break some chains today and set some people free.
Time would fail me to tell you of the ways God has shown up in my life when I sat on the floor and said, "God, if You don't show up, I don't know what we're going to do." I've seen groceries show up at my door, boxes of money with anonymous letters, baby bills covered, cars come into my life. When anxiety was gripping me, the peace of God rushed in—because people were praying and believing and speaking the truth that there's still a God who does miracles.
If He's done it before, He can do it again. So why not you?
We're going to fear not, stand firm, lift our eyes, and let God work. And whatever the outcome, we will be a people that says, "I will trust You day by day."
Father, I thank You for everybody at the sound of my voice. I pray that You would still move, still work, and intervene—that we would see seas split, bodies healed, finances come, and breakthroughs happen. Help us trust You, because You're the same yesterday, today, and forever. He's still Jehovah Jireh, God our provider. He's still Jehovah Rapha, God who heals. Let's press in and pray.
