In Exodus 5, Israel learns that everyone serves someone—and that the wrong master only multiplies burdens. Pharaoh’s command to “get back to your burdens” exposes the cruelty of false masters who demand more and give nothing. But Jesus, the greater Master, stands before the weary and says, “Come to me… and I will give you rest.” This sermon traces the contrast between Pharaoh’s yoke and Christ’s, showing that true freedom is not found in autonomy but in serving the gentle and lowly Lord whose service becomes our rest.

In one of the strangest and most debated stories in Scripture, God meets Moses on the road to Egypt—not to bless him, but to kill him. In Exodus 4:18–26, we see both the terrifying wrath and the steadfast love of God collide in one moment of blood and mercy. Moses, the chosen deliverer, had neglected the covenant sign; and yet through the blood of his son, the wrath of God was turned away. This strange encounter is not a detour from the gospel—it reveals it. In the blood that spared Moses, we glimpse the blood that would one day save us all: the Son cut off so that we might live.

The whole Bible points to Jesus, and in this story of Moses receiving three signs from Yahweh, we get to witness not merely parallels to Jesus' story but rather the establishment of a pattern which Jesus would fulfill perfectly. Moses is chosen to be the shepherd-messenger, and one thousand years later, Jesus would be the Good Shepherd. Moses brought a message of being freed from slavery to Egypt, while Jesus brought a message of being freed from sin. Moses was given three signs to help the Israelites believe his message, but these three signs were not magic tricks; they were signs of transformation and hope, pointing to the hope we have in Christ, who became sin in our place and was struck that we might be spared.

This sermon contrasts the despair of praying to an unknown god with the hope of knowing Yahweh by name. When Moses asks, “What is his name?” God reveals himself as “I Am Who I Am." He is existence itself — absolute personality, freedom, and eternality. Yet this revelation alone could remain distant and even terrifying. The good news is that Yahweh also names himself as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob — a covenantal God who binds himself to his people in love and faithfulness. He is not simply God in the abstract but God-for-us, inviting all who believe to share in the promises made to Abraham. This covenant commitment finds its deepest fulfillment in the incarnation: Yahweh takes on flesh in Jesus, “Yahweh saves.” In Christ, the eternal “I Am” becomes vulnerable, even killable, for our sake. The New Testament bears witness that Jesus is Yahweh, doing the works and receiving the honors due only to God. Thus the call is clear: confess Jesus as Lord, believe in his resurrection, and find deliverance. Unlike a vague prayer “to every god,” prayer to Jesus rests on the sure name of the God who is, who was, and who is to come — the God who saves.

The gospel of Jesus Christ is not primarily about how we are freed from sin and forgiven. It’s primarily about how God made a way to dwell with us forever. The good news doesn’t end at the cross; nor does it end at the empty tomb. The story reaches its full conclusion at the burning edge of the first New Creation dawn, when heaven and earth fully unite and we are right in the midst of God’s eternal, glorious presence forever — enjoying him and being enjoyed by him. Entirely and utterly caught up into Blessedness himself. So one vital part of that gospel message is that Jesus frees us from sin, and in him we are forgiven. But there’s so much more! Similarly, it’s so easy to think that the book of Exodus is all about how God freed Israel from slavery in Egypt. But it’s not. That’s just the prelude. Exodus is primarily about how God made a way to dwell with his people.

In Exodus 2:23–25, we see Israel move from slavery to groaning to prayer—and God responds with salvation. This shows us that God will not deliver us from what we still love, but when we come to hate our sin and groan under its weight, he delights to hear our cries and act on his covenant promises. Human hopes will always disappoint, but when our groans turn to true prayer in Jesus’ name, God hears, sees, remembers, and knows—acting not on the basis of our worthiness but on the basis of his covenant with Christ. Therefore, every believer can have confidence that God answers prayers, because for him to ignore the cry of one for whom Christ died would be to break his promise, betray his Son, and waste his suffering.

In Exodus 2, Moses emerges as a deliverer, a man of faith, and a man of failure. Yet in each of these, he ultimately points us beyond himself to Christ. Moses tries to rescue Israel but cannot free them from Egypt or from sin. Only Christ delivers fully—from our enemies and from ourselves. Moses chose to identify with God’s people by faith, looking to a greater reward. We strengthen our faith the same way: by fixing our eyes on Christ, who left glory to suffer for us. Moses sinned and feared, yet God grew him through failure. We must admit, learn, and entrust our failures to Christ, who alone can redeem them for his glory and our good.

The Israelites have found themselves in Egypt, enslaved, crushed, and oppressed on all sides. But they weren’t sent there because of their disobedience to God; in fact, they were in Egypt because of obedience and faith. So why were they afflicted with so much suffering? And where is God in all of it? Exodus 1–2 helps us to see glimmers of hope in the thick darkness of human suffering. The curtain is slowly pulled back, and we can see God’s kind hand of providence gently leading, guiding, protecting, and caring for his people.