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Humility, God's Sovereignty, and the Freedom to Choose
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We're in the book of Exodus, and today we're parked in chapter 11—right at a critical moment in God's plan to rescue his people from Egyptian slavery. This is a passage that requires help to understand, particularly with 21st-century eyes. We need the Holy Spirit as our "Bible codebreaker" to illuminate what's truly happening here.
Up to this point, God has sent nine plagues on Egypt. Each one systematically undermined the false gods that Egypt worshipped—gods of the sun, moon, harvest, and fertility. The ninth plague was darkness, which directly confronted Ra, Egypt's supreme god. For three days, Egypt was pitch black, even as the sun should have risen. This darkness set the stage for the final, devastating plague.
But understand: God is not being vindictive. He's confronting the powers and principalities, the false gods that enslaved Egypt's hearts and minds.
"The Lord said to Moses, 'At midnight I will go throughout Egypt. Every firstborn son in Egypt will die, from the firstborn son of Pharaoh... to the firstborn son of the female slave... There will be loud wailing throughout Egypt, worse than there ever has been or ever will be again. But among the Israelites, not a dog will bark at any person or animal.'" (Exodus 11:4-7)
This final plague is the most devastating of all. But there are two distinct messages embedded in it: one for Pharaoh, and one for Israel.
In Egypt, Pharaoh was considered divine—a god himself, actually a son of Ra. He would pass this "divinity" to his firstborn son, who would inherit the throne and perpetuate the worship of a false god.
God's message to Pharaoh through this plague is unmistakable: "You are not God. I am."
But let's be honest—this message isn't just for ancient Pharaohs. We live in a culture obsessed with self. We're told daily: You're the center of your universe. Follow your heart. Do what makes you happy. Be unashamedly obsessed with yourself.
There's actually a Gen Z influencer whose stated goal is to spearhead a "self-obsessed movement" among young women worldwide. And it's working—hundreds of thousands of likes.
We've even let this infiltrate our worship. Three hundred years ago, Isaac Watts wrote: "When I survey the wondrous cross on which the Prince of Glory died, Forbid it Lord that I should boast, save in the death of Christ my Lord." But if you track the pronouns in modern worship songs, we've replaced "your" and "your glory" with "me," "my," and "I." Our worship has become increasingly therapeutic—designed to make us feel better about ourselves—rather than focusing on God's greatness.
Here's the truth: Your superpower is humility. Your greatest strength is bowing the knee to the one true God and saying, "I am not God. Jesus is crowned with many crowns. He is Lord of lords, King of kings. He alone is sovereign, full of wisdom, full of glory, all-powerful—the beginning and the end."
You find your truest happiness when you lose yourself and look to Him.
There's also a completely different message for Israel. In Exodus 4, God calls the entire nation of Israel "my firstborn son."
One of the key responsibilities of a firstborn son in Jewish culture was to perpetuate the father's legacy—to tell the rest of the family, "Do you remember what our father loved? Do you remember his values? Let me tell you about him."
God's heart for Israel was not just that they escape Egypt, but that they go and tell the world what their Father looks like.
There's a beautiful rabbinic tradition: Hebrew scholars say Israel was "born again" when they crossed the Red Sea. Picture it—600,000 people, men, women, children, cattle, walking through walls of water held up by God's Spirit. The rabbis viewed this as a kind of birth canal: Israel was being birthed to become God's firstborn children.
Jesus echoed this exact imagery with Nicodemus: "You cannot enter the kingdom unless you're born again... born of water and the Spirit." (John 3) He was reminding His people of their own story—Exodus.
This calling now extends to the church. We are firstborn ambassadors. We're not just saved from sin; we're sent to tell the world what our Father is like. We're all missionaries—not just a special few. Your call is to go to your work colleagues and say, "Have you ever met Jesus? He's amazing. Let me tell you about Him." That's evangelism. That's being on mission with Jesus.
As Peter wrote: "You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you might declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light." (1 Peter 2:9)
Now for the second thorny issue: "The Lord hardened Pharaoh's heart, and he would not let the Israelites go." (Exodus 11:10)
On the surface, this feels completely unfair. It sounds like God hardened Pharaoh's heart and then punished him for it. Where's the justice in that?
Let's unpack the Hebrew to understand what's really happening.
Across the Exodus story, three different Hebrew words describe "harden," but two are key:
1. Chazak — "to strengthen, to make firm, to make resolute"
Every time Scripture says God hardened Pharaoh's heart, this is the word used. It's actually a neutral word—it doesn't mean cruel or vindictive. It means God gave Pharaoh the resolve to keep making choices, even wrong ones.
Think about it: God gave Pharaoh free will. God gave him a strong heart, the ability to choose. This isn't God removing Pharaoh's agency—it's God sustaining it. Even for someone who denies God exists, that ability to choose freely comes from God Himself. Because love cannot exist without the freedom to choose.
2. Caved — "heavy, burdensome, weighty"
Every time it says Pharaoh hardened his own heart, this is the word used. Pharaoh made his own heart heavy. He chose chaos instead of harmony in his nation. He should have been ruling with peace, but his choices kept bringing disaster after disaster. His heart became heavy—burdened by the weight of his own injustice.
Here's the difference: God made Pharaoh's heart strong (chazak); Pharaoh made his heart heavy (caved).
Even in the Garden of Eden—perfect paradise where no sin had ever entered—God placed two trees. Why? Because God cannot have love without the ability to choose. Love cannot be coerced, forced, or manipulated.
The scariest place to be is where you continually say "no" to God until He gives you what you think you want: a life without Him. And then we wonder why our hearts become so heavy.
Pharaoh heard God's voice ten times: "Would you humble yourself? Would you change direction? Would you worship me? Would you let my people go?" Ten times, Pharaoh said no.
1. Humble yourself under God's mighty hand. Bowing the knee to Jesus is your superpower. Cast your crowns at His feet and say, "I am not God, but You are."
2. You're His firstborn. Your goal is to go into all the world and tell people what your Father looks like. He's amazing. He saves. He delivers. He remembers His promises. He's merciful. He takes slaves and makes them princes.
3. If you hear His voice today, don't harden your heart. You have a Father in heaven who loves you. He's not against you—He's for you. He wants to bless you, redeem you, and transform you.
If you know the Lord is speaking to you today—whether you've made self an idol, or whether you've drifted far from Him—I want to invite you to respond. You have a Father who loves you and doesn't want you to harden your heart anymore.
If that's you, consider praying something like this:
Jesus, I want to start following You. I don't want to harden my heart anymore. I want to say yes to You. I want to become a worshipper and a disciple. Lord, make my heart brand new. I want to be born again by water and the Spirit. I want to become Your son, Your daughter. Transform me, forgive me, crown me, bless me, and come into my life. Amen.
Today is a day of salvation. If you hear His voice, don't harden your heart.
