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Lost in Translation
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Welcome back to Lost in Translation. As a reminder of what we're doing here: the Bible was written in cultures, times, and languages very different from our own, so it's no surprise that we can sometimes feel lost when reading it. In this series, we're learning tools and strategies for navigating the most challenging parts of the Bible together.
Today we're exploring the parts of Exodus that have raised the most questions. Two key ideas will help us find our bearings in this book: Covenant and name. Once we understand these concepts, so much of Exodus—and really the whole Old Testament—begins to make more sense.
In the ancient Near East, a covenant was a formal partnership. Treaties were a common type of covenant, establishing a partnership between a powerful ruler called a suzerain and a weaker nation called a vassal.
These covenants often followed a rescue—the suzerain might defeat the vassal's enemy or provide food during a famine. In return, the vassal would pledge loyalty, obedience, and tribute. The suzerain, in turn, promised protection and provision. But if the vassal broke the covenant, the consequences could be severe—sometimes even deadly.
Most scholars believe this is the kind of covenant God makes with Israel in Exodus:
This brings us to God's name, which keeps showing up throughout Exodus. In the ancient world, a name often reflected someone's character. In Exodus 3, God reveals his name to Moses:
"I am who I am."
This tells us something profound about God—he is alive, present, uncreated, eternal. A name conveys character, but it's also a synonym for reputation. In Exodus 9:16, God tells Pharaoh that he will be used to make God's name known throughout the earth. Here, God's name refers to his reputation—his reputation for power, justice, and mercy.
Reputation and character mattered deeply in the honor-shame cultures of the ancient Near East. In Exodus, God entrusts his name—his reputation—to Israel. That's a huge responsibility. Israel is called to live in a way that displays God's character and spreads his good reputation. When they're warned not to take God's name in vain, it literally means: don't carry God's name lightly. Representing God is a serious task, and God the suzerain takes it seriously too.
This covenant partnership between Israel and God mirrors God's partnership with Adam and Eve. Just as they were created to be God's image-bearers, his representatives in the world, God now calls Israel to fill that same role. Like Adam and Eve, Israel will fail to live up to their end of the covenant—but God's response to their failure will reveal even more about his character.
The story of God hardening Pharaoh's heart raises important questions: Does God make people sin? How can God hold someone accountable if they're not truly free to choose?
A lot changes from the beginning of Pharaoh's story to the end, and noticing those changes helps us make sense of what's happening.
1. Chazak — Early in the story, Pharaoh hardens his own heart. This Hebrew word means strong or resolute. In Egyptian culture, this kind of hardness was seen as a virtue—a good ruler was expected to be resolute, confident, and firm even under pressure. It's a morally neutral word; someone can be resolute in doing good or evil. Pharaoh is resolute in rebelling against God, refusing to release the Israelites even as the first plagues arrive.
2. Kaved — At a certain point, something important changes: God begins to harden Pharaoh's heart. This word means heavy. In Egyptian religion, a person's heart was weighed against a feather in the afterlife—a light heart was innocent, a heavy heart was guilty. A minority of scholars think this means God caused Pharaoh to sin, but most interpret it differently: making Pharaoh's heart heavy means God either declared him guilty or allowed him to follow through on his own bad decisions, experiencing the full weight of his rebellion.
3. Qasah — This word, meaning stiff or stubborn, appears only once, in Exodus 7:3, where God says he will qasah Pharaoh's heart. Some scholars connect this to Exodus 4, where Moses picks up a snake by the tail and it stiffens into a staff—becoming a tool for demonstrating God's power. This suggests that when God says he will harden Pharaoh's heart, he's announcing his intention to use Pharaoh's stubbornness as a tool for displaying his own authority.
That's exactly what happens in Exodus 9:16:
"I have raised you up for this very purpose, that I might show you my power and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth."
The mighty, stubborn Pharaoh is like a snake taken by the tail and used by God to make his name known to the nations.
One of the more bizarre passages in the Bible is found in Exodus 4:24-26, where it appears God is about to kill Moses. His wife Zipporah steps in, circumcises their son, and touches Moses with the child's foreskin—which somehow saves his life. What's going on here?
To understand this, we go back to the origins of circumcision. In Genesis 15, God promises Abraham and Sarah a massive family that will become a nation blessing the whole world. In Genesis 16, when Sarah still hasn't conceived, she forces her Egyptian servant Hagar to bear a child with Abraham—taking matters into their own hands instead of trusting God, and abusing someone more vulnerable.
In Genesis 17, God reaffirms his promise and establishes a covenant with Abraham and Sarah. Circumcision becomes the sign of this covenant—marking Abraham's body as a reminder of his agreement with God. It's also a kind of confession and repentance: cutting off the old way of living and committing to God's way instead. From then on, circumcision is a physical, visible sign of belonging to God's covenant family. Genesis 17:14 is clear: anyone who refuses circumcision will be cut off from God's people. It's non-negotiable.//p>
Fast forward to Exodus 4: Moses hasn't circumcised his own son—a huge problem. How can he lead Israel as a faithful covenant partner with God when he's broken the covenant himself? His wife Zipporah, a Midianite who isn't even an Israelite, understands the gravity of the situation. She circumcises their son and touches the foreskin to Moses, saving his life. Keeping covenant with a suzerain is a matter of life and death.
Exodus uses a literary device called prefigurative typology—Moses's personal experiences in Exodus 1-6 foreshadow what the whole nation of Israel will go through later:
Zipporah's act of circumcision prefigures the Passover. At Passover, God warns he will strike down the firstborn in every household—no one is exempt—but anyone who signals trust and allegiance to God by touching the blood of a lamb to their doorframe will be spared. In both stories, death is the consequence of disobedience, and blood is the visible sign of obedience and trust that turns away death and preserves life.
Perhaps the most difficult part of Exodus is God striking down the firstborn. This question deserves honesty: any answer we come up with won't make this story less troubling. Life is sacred, and the loss of life is always tragic. I believe God sees it that way too.
So why would God take the lives of the firstborn? We find this story in Exodus 12, but back in Exodus 4, God refers to Israel as his firstborn son—and this is significant. In our culture, every child in a healthy family is equally treasured. But in the ancient Near East, the firstborn son was uniquely important: he inherited the family's wealth, responsibilities, authority, and legacy. He represented the family in the broader community and often became its leader. Losing a firstborn son wasn't just a personal tragedy—it was a devastating blow to the family's survival and standing in society.//p>
Pharaoh enslaved God's firstborn son, Israel, and issued a decree to murder every Hebrew baby boy by throwing them into the Nile. In the legal codes of the ancient Near East, like Hammurabi's Code, justice demanded that punishment mirror the crime—an eye for an eye. In Exodus 4:22-23, God's message to Pharaoh through Moses is:
"Israel is my firstborn son... I told you, Pharaoh, let my son go so he may serve me. But you refused to let him go, so I will kill your firstborn son."
According to ancient laws, this was justice. But God is also merciful. Pharaoh's slaves had no way out, and the Hebrew babies thrown into the Nile had no escape. Yet God provided a way for anyone—Israelite or Egyptian—to be spared. Each household was instructed to sacrifice a lamb and place its blood on the doorframes of their home. God promised:
"When I see the blood, I will pass over you. No destructive plague will touch you."
This was an invitation for anyone, regardless of nationality or status, to trust God and be saved—even Pharaoh. God's judgment always comes with an opportunity to turn back, trust him, and receive mercy and life.
This event shaped God's name—his reputation spread beyond Israel that he is just and merciful, the God of all people who brings life to anyone who trusts him. Some Egyptians came to believe and trust this God. Exodus 12:38 tells us that when the Israelites were finally set free, a
