We're going to read together from Hebrews 11, verses 23 to 28, and then David is going to come after we sing and preach for us.
By faith, Moses, when he was born, was hidden for three months by his parents because they saw that the child was beautiful and they were not afraid of the king's edict.
By faith, Moses, when he was grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin.
He considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was looking to the reward.
By faith, he left Egypt, not being afraid of the anger of the king, for he endured a seeing him who is invisible.
By faith, he kept the Passover and sprinkled the blood so that the destroyer of the firstborn might not touch them.
This is God's holy word.
Over the past couple of months, we've been making our way through the text of Hebrews 11.
It's a chapter, a famous chapter in the Bible.
It's sometimes been described as a portrait gallery of faith.
And as we've made our way through, we've been taking time to stop and consider these pictures of faith that our author has selected for display.
The first room, I suppose, that we walked through in this portrait gallery.
We might have called that the Genesis Gallery, lining the way some of the great Old Testament saints from the opening book of the Bible.
Abel, Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph.
And the lives of these men and women are really held up as a powerful witness to God's faithfulness and keeping grace.
They lived and died in faith as they looked forward to that city with foundations whose architect and builder is God.
Amid a sometimes hostile, antagonistic world, they each lived by faith in the power and promises of God.
And this evening, however, we step, as it were, from the Genesis Gallery into the Exodus Gallery.
And if the main portrait hanging in our first gallery was that of Abraham,
then here in the Exodus Gallery, it is the figure of Moses that dominates.
And in these verses tonight, our author wants us to stop and consider the life and faith of one of the most significant figures in all of the Old Testament.
He wants us to hear what the life of Moses, this great leader of God's people in the Exodus from Egypt,
has to tell us about living by faith.
And in this section that Corrie read for us that reads from verse 23 to 28,
you might notice that there are really four pictures that are presented to us,
each beginning with the words, by faith.
I want to consider each of those in turn tonight.
And the first that we see here is not really to do with Moses' own faith,
but rather with the faith of his parents.
We have that in verse 23.
By faith, Moses, when he was born, was hidden for three months by his parents,
because they saw that the child was beautiful, and they were not afraid of the king's edict.
Faith does not fear worldly power.
The reference here of verse 23 takes us back to Exodus chapter 2, 1 and 2, really.
As I mentioned, it relates not to Moses' own faith, but rather to the faith of his parents,
Amram and Jochebed.
And if you're familiar with the story, you might recall how in Egypt there arose a pharaoh
who, we're told, knew not Joseph.
Because of the increasing numbers of Hebrews, this pharaoh embarked on a course of government-sponsored
genocide, decreeing that all the male children born in the Israelite community should be drowned in the Nile.
However, Moses' parents didn't comply with the king's edict.
Instead, they hid their baby son for some three months before eventually launching him down the river
in a basket to be found by the daughter of Pharaoh.
An act of faith, not fear.
And that little phrase that we read there, they saw that the child was beautiful.
I think it's to be understood in the sense that they saw that their child was special.
Well, we all think our children are special.
But I think the sense here is that he had a particular destiny to fulfill.
They saw and believed that God's favor in some way rested upon him.
And the writer of Hebrews sees that there was faith at work in the actions of Moses' parents.
They were prepared to defy the law of the land in order to preserve and keep their child safe.
Fear did not keep them from doing what was right.
Disobeying, I suppose, an edict of the king of Pharaoh was a capital offense.
If it was discovered, it would have meant their certain death.
And yet they acted in faith, not fear.
They didn't flinch from disobeying the king and his decree.
They engaged in, I suppose we might say, a policy of civil disobedience.
They feared God rather than man.
They were more concerned to please the king of kings than they were the king of Egypt.
They were prepared to anger Pharaoh rather than anger God.
And that's a very important principle.
And it's one that we see repeated right throughout the Scriptures.
There are times when traveling the way of faith means that we are compelled, really,
to rebel against what rulers, authorities, or governments may demand of us.
Sometimes doing what God wants us to do will bring us into conflict with those in authority and power.
However, as Christians, we are duty-bound to obey God rather than men.
Yes, of course, there is a right and lawful obedience that we owe to the state and government
because we recognize God's authority behind it.
We discover that in passages like Romans 13.
But we must disobey if the government forbids what God commands or commands what God forbids.
Our absolute loyalty and devotion is for God alone.
And that's something that we, again, see not just in Scripture,
but right down through the history of the Christian church.
The Reformers, the Covenanters.
We see it today in different parts of the world also.
And maybe here in Britain in the near future,
we might have to face that same kind of challenge.
Obey God or obey men.
We think of things like the proposed conversion therapy ban.
Well, conceivably, it could lead to evangelism and the sharing of the Christian faith being effectively outlawed.
What might that mean for the church?
What might that mean for us as Christians?
God is the ultimate authority.
The state's power is not absolute.
And so it can't demand of us absolute obedience.
If the state commands what God forbids or forbids what God demands,
our duty is to disobey.
And so, back in the book of Exodus, in Exodus 1,
the Jewish midwives there, we're told,
feared God and disobeyed the king.
In Daniel 6, a passage that we looked at,
Corrie looked at a couple of weeks ago,
Daniel prayed to God in defiance of the king's decree.
In Acts 5, we read of Peter and John saying,
what?
We must obey God rather than men.
I don't doubt that Moses' parents were afraid at the prospect
of being executed for their actions,
but they refused to…
what they refused to do was allow that fear to shape and control their decision.
They did what God wanted,
even at risk of their own personal safety.
And traveling the way of faith means that sometimes we have to face our fears,
fear of what others may think or even do to us.
Faith does not fear worldly power,
no matter how great or terrifying it may be.
And that brings me to the second thing here.
Faith chooses, you'll notice,
in verses 24 through 26,
faith chooses to suffer with the people of God.
By faith, Moses, when he was grown up,
refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter,
choosing rather to be mistreated with the people of God
than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin.
He considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt,
for he was looking to the reward.
Those verses, I think, are all in one sentence in the original language.
And they relate to the fundamental, I suppose,
the defining decision of Moses' life.
And that was his decision to turn his back on the comfort and security of Egypt
and to identify himself with the suffering people of God.
Human life, as we all know, is full of tough choices.
I think it's in this film,
The Bridges of Madison County,
Meryl Streep says to Clint Eastwood,
We are the choices we make.
That's certainly true here of Moses.
In God's providence, he was led to a point of decision,
a moment of truth.
And that decision revealed just where his heart truly lay.
And sometimes God brings us, his people,
to such moments to reveal, to disclose,
just where our loyalties really lie.
What is really important in our lives?
Moses, though a Hebrew, was raised as Egyptian royalty.
Stephen, in Acts chapter 7,
in his speech there, Acts 7.22, says,
Moses was instructed in all the wisdom of the Egyptians.
In other words, he had a very privileged upbringing.
I have no doubt he was tempted to remain in Egypt
as the son of Pharaoh's daughter.
He would have enjoyed a life of luxury and worldly pleasure.
But a choice had to be made.
And God led him into the valley of decision.
And the choice he was faced with
was between being called the son of Pharaoh's daughter,
enjoying the security, safety,
the great treasures of Egypt,
and being mistreated
with the despised, suffering people of God.
Some choice.
And yet we're told here that Moses turned his back on Egypt
and on all it could offer him.
He wanted to help his people.
He wanted to see his people delivered.
He could have reasoned, I suppose,
that staying in the royal palace,
working behind the scenes,
might have been the best way to go.
But he resisted that temptation
and turned his back on it all.
Sometimes faith is known
by what it refuses to do.
Faith is known by what it says no to.
There is often this negative side
to traveling the way of faith.
Paul says, Titus 2.12,
the grace of God teaches us
to say no to ungodliness
and worldly passions.
The psalmist, Psalm 1 verse 1,
blessed is the man who walks
not in the counsel of the wicked,
does not stand in the way of sinners,
and does not sit in the seat of scoffers.
Moses said no to Egypt
and yes to Israel.
He didn't sit on the fence.
He had a clarity of thought
that saw all the treasures of Egypt
for what they really were,
the fleeting pleasures of sin.
And he chose to identify himself
with his people.
Well, that's true of all of us.
We belong in one camp or the other.
We belong to Egypt
or we belong to the Israel of God.
We're either storing up for ourselves
treasures in heaven or on earth.
We're either living for God
or for ourselves.
I wonder where you stand tonight.
I wonder where your heart belongs
this evening.
Will you stand with God's people?
Even if that means
you won't really fit in
in this world.
Even if it means you'll be,
always be a bit of an outsider.
Maybe in your work
or place of employment.
Maybe in your family.
Maybe in your community.
Will you call sin
for what it really is?
A fleeting and worthless pleasure.
Or are you someone
trying to keep a foot in both camps?
Pulling out your Egyptian passport
when it suits?
Too many of us
are content to live like that.
But that's not how faith works.
Moses' choice had this twofold aspect.
In order to say yes to Israel
and God's people,
he had to say no to Egypt.
That is, he had to say no
to Egypt's values,
worldview,
and religion.
He refused to be called
the son of Pharaoh's daughter.
What about you tonight?
What are you saying yes to?
And what are you saying no to
in your life?
Moses certainly chose
a hard and difficult path.
He chose to suffer
with the people of God.
Exodus 2 verse 11,
we read,
one day when Moses had grown up,
he went out to his brothers
and looked on their burdens.
By faith,
he chose a path
that meant for him
shame and his grace.
Following Jesus Christ
does not mean
following the path
of least resistance.
It means identifying
ourselves wholeheartedly
with the people of God,
with the church of God.
God.
Back in July 1939,
on the threshold
of World War II,
Dietrich Bonhoeffer,
the German theologian
and pastor,
he traveled to
the United States
of America.
He was offered
safe haven
by some of his friends
there.
But incredibly,
Bonhoeffer
left New York
almost as soon
as he arrived.
He chose to return
to the rising
chaos and confusion
in his native Germany.
This is what he wrote.
I have come
to the conclusion
that I made a mistake
in coming to America.
I shall have no right
to take part
in the restoration
of Christian life
in Germany
after the war
unless I share
the trials
of this time
with my people.
He traveled
the way of faith,
a Moses-like
commitment.
I think about
10, 15 years ago
I visited
Mei La
refugee camp
for the Karen people
in the Thai-Myanmar border.
At that time
it was a huge camp
of about
35,000 people
effectively
imprisoned there,
unable to go anywhere.
It was refugees,
they couldn't enter Thailand,
it was unsafe
for them to travel
back to the Karen state
in Myanmar
because of the military.
And they had
a Bible school there
led by a man
called Pastor Simon.
He was not a refugee.
He had a passport.
He was free to travel.
He had family
in Canada.
And yet for 25 years
he chose not to flee
to a life
of relative
safety and security,
but rather to live,
serve,
and eventually die
amongst
his suffering
and displaced people.
A Moses-like
commitment.
Who knows
when you and I
might be called
to make a similar choice,
to choose
what appears
to be a hard
and unpopular way,
to leave the safe
and the secure
for the demanding
and the costly.
Look at how the writer
puts it in verse 26.
Astonishing words.
He considered
the reproach
of Christ,
greater wealth
than the treasures
of Egypt,
for he was looking
to the reward.
Moses chose
the disgrace
of the Messiah.
For the suffering
of the people of God
and the reproach
of Christ
are one and the same
in both the Old Testament
and the New Testament.
When God's people suffer,
Christ suffers.
Jesus is so united
and connected
to his people
that when they suffer,
he suffers.
That's an astonishing thing
to think about
and to reflect on.
Remember Jesus' words
to Saul
on the road
to Damascus
in Acts 9?
Saul,
why are you
persecuting
the church?
No.
Why are you
persecuting me?
Isaiah 63,
9,
in all their affliction,
he was afflicted.
The affliction
of God's people
is the affliction
of Christ himself.
Some of you
may have heard
of the Wigton
martyrs
back in 1685.
Margaret McLaughlin,
Margaret Wilson,
tied to stakes
on the sands
of the Solway Firth,
executed
for their faith
and loyalty
to Jesus Christ.
When asked
what she thought
of her fellow
sufferer
wrestling
in the water
as the tide
came in,
Margaret Wilson
replied,
what do I see
but Christ
mystical
wrestling
there?
What do I see
but Jesus
suffering
there?
Jesus Christ
suffers
in and with
his people.
Exodus 3,
7,
the Lord says,
surely
I have seen
the affliction
of my people
who are in Egypt
and I've heard
their cry
because of their
taskmasters.
I know
their
sufferings.
So friend,
if you're called
upon to suffer
for the sake
of Christ,
to bear
the reproach
of Christ
and your family
amongst your
colleagues,
if you're called
to suffer
for the sake
of the gospel,
you do not
suffer alone
because Jesus
Christ
is always
with his
people.
He will
never leave
you,
he will
never forsake
you.
Sometimes
faith means
choosing a
path
that will
lead to
suffering
along
with the
people
of God.
Faith does
not fear
worldly power.
Faith chooses
to suffer
with the
people of
God.
Thirdly here,
faith keeps
looking to
the Lord.
Verse 27,
by faith
he left
Egypt,
not being
afraid of
the anger
of the
king,
but he
endured
as seeing
him who
is invisible.
Now,
what is the
writer speaking
about here?
There are two
main possibilities.
One,
that this is a
general statement
about the
exodus.
Moses left
Egypt,
leading the
children of
Israel,
not fearing
the anger
of the king,
not fearing
Pharaoh.
The other
possibility is
that it's a
reference to
the time
when Moses
fled Egypt,
traveled into
the desert,
to Midian,
where he
lived as
a sojourner
and as
an exile.
And that's
a better
fit
chronologically.
Whatever view
we take,
the point
is the
same.
Moses
set his
eyes
upon
God.
He
endured
a seeing
him who
is invisible.
He kept
going in
the way
of faith
because he
was looking
to the
Lord.
He was
not looking
to an
earthly
king,
but to
the very
king of
kings.
And if
we take
the latter
of those
two
possibilities,
we are
then being
taken back
to Exodus
2,
reminded of
how Moses
had wanted
to be a
deliverer for
his people.
That led
him to
kill one
of the
Egyptian
taskmasters.
That became
known to
Pharaoh.
Moses had
to leave.
He didn't
raise a revolt.
He didn't
start an
insurrection.
Rather,
he went
into a
kind of
self-imposed
exile for
forty years.
Here he
was,
called to
be the
deliverer of
his people.
This was
his destiny.
But instead,
he spends
forty years
in the
desert.
One writer
puts it,
he spent
the first
forty years
of his
life thinking
he was a
somebody,
and the
next forty
years realizing
he was a
nobody.
Well,
how did he
keep on
going?
How did
he press
on?
How did
he endure?
Because he
had his
eyes set
on the
Lord.
Friends,
sometimes
things in
this life
do not
work out
as we
hope or
plan.
Sometimes
in the
providence
of God,
life throws
up the
unexpected,
the unforeseen.
There are
family problems.
There's a
bereavement
and loss.
There are
broken
relationships,
difficulties
at work,
sickness
and health,
all manner
of anxieties
and stresses
that seem
just to
magically
appear
out of
nowhere.
Maybe
tonight
you're
in that
very
place.
How do
we keep
going at
such times?
How does
faith
persevere?
How do
we press
on in the
way of
faith when
the terrain
suddenly becomes
hard and
difficult?
Well,
like Moses,
we have to
set the
Lord before
us.
We have to
fix our
eyes on
him.
He must
fill our
vision.
If you
can imagine,
if you
will,
an
experience
from my
childhood
when the
carpet of
snow over
a field
up past
our house
glistening
in the
winter
sun
stretching
before me
untouched,
unmarked by
any footprint,
mind the
privilege of
being the
first to
walk across
it,
making any
pattern I
would like.
And I
decide I'm
going to
cut a
straight line
across the
field.
But my
eyes are
looking down
at my
feet as I
cross.
And I
soon discover
as I look
back, I
have left
not a
straight line,
but an
erratic
zigzag
pattern
behind me.
Because
looking
downwards,
it's easy
to become
disorientated.
But if
instead you
fix your
eye on a
tree or a
fence post
on the
far side of
the field
and walk
directly
towards it,
the path
you leave
behind is
remarkably
straight.
because the
truth is we
all tend to
move towards
the object
upon which
we fix
our gaze.
It matters
where our
eyes are
fixed.
We move
towards that
which fills
our vision.
Moses endured
because he was
seeing the
one who was
invisible.
He kept his
eyes on the
Lord, the
eyes of
faith.
And that's
what faith
does.
That's how
faith endures.
Be thou
my vision,
we sang,
O Lord
of my
heart,
not be
all else
to me,
save that
thou art,
thou my
best thought,
by day
and by night,
waking or
sleeping,
thy presence
my light.
Are you
setting your
eyes upon
God?
I mentioned
years ago
spending some
time in
that refugee
camp.
on the
Thai-Myanmar
border.
I was
greatly
struck by
the faith
of the
Karen
Christians,
a people
displaced from
their own
homeland,
in exile,
refugees for
decades,
little chance,
humanly speaking,
of going back
to their own
land.
What kept
them going?
How were
they able to
persevere?
I came
across a piece
of poetry
written by a
student at
the Bible
school.
This is how
it went.
This is how
it goes.
They call us
a displaced
people,
but praise
God we are
not misplaced.
They say
they see no
hope for our
future,
but praise
God our
future is as
bright as the
promises of
God.
They say
the life of
our people
is a misery,
but praise
God our
life is a
mystery.
For what
they see,
say is what
they see,
and what
they see is
temporal,
but ours is
the eternal.
All because
we put
ourselves
in the
hands of
God we
trust.
What were
they doing?
They're setting
their eyes
upon the
Lord.
Like Moses,
they endure
as seeing
Him who
is invisible,
and if we
would endure,
then so
must we.
Faith does
not fear
worldly
power.
Faith chooses
to suffer
with the
people of
God.
It chooses
to bear
the reproach
of the
Messiah.
Faith
keeps on
looking to
the Lord.
And
fourthly and
finally here,
verse 28,
you'll notice
that faith
embraces
God's
word of
salvation.
By faith
He kept
the Passover
and sprinkled
the blood
so that
the destroyer
of the
firstborn
might not
touch them.
That's
referenced
here is
Exodus 12,
the Passover,
the great
redemptive
act of
Old Testament
history,
one that
casts its
shadow
forward to
the coming
of Christ.
In Egypt,
the Lord's
people were
enslaved.
They were a
people trapped
in all manner
of suffering
and pain.
They were
under the
rule of
Pharaoh.
They were
in the
grip and
the power
really of
the false
gods of
Egypt.
Their
enslavement
wasn't simply
social or
economic.
It was also
spiritual,
theological.
In their
Egyptian
captivity,
Israel
succumbed to
idolatry and
false worship.
They revert
to the
worship of
the golden
calf at
the foot
of Mount
Sinai.
Joshua
says to
the people
at Shechem,
Joshua 24,
14,
throw away
the gods
your forefathers
worship beyond
the river
and in
Egypt and
serve the
Lord.
So,
the people's
deliverance and
redemption from
Egypt came,
of course,
through judgment.
Judgment fell
on Pharaoh,
the Egyptians,
even Israel
itself.
Nine successive
plagues,
and Pharaoh
would not
relent.
He would
not let
God's people
go until
the final
plague,
the most
devastating of
them all.
All the
firstborn children
in Egypt
would die in
a single
night.
The angel
of death,
the destroyer,
would sweep
through the
land,
bring judgment
on every
single
household.
I will
bring judgment,
Exodus 12,
12,
on all the
gods of
Egypt.
I am
the Lord.
The blood
will be
a sign
for you
on the
houses
where you
are.
When I
see the
blood,
I will
pass over
you.
No
destructive
plague will
touch you
when I
strike
Egypt.
The blood
there is,
of course,
the blood
of the
lamb,
sprinkled on
the doorposts
of the
houses.
And I
suppose it
all seems
such a
complicated
arrangement.
Why did
God not
simply
distinguish
between the
Egyptians
and the
Israelites
on ethnic
grounds?
Why all
this blood?
God is
omniscient.
He hardly
needed a
red mark
on the
door to
tell an
Egyptian
household
from a
Jewish
one.
So,
what was
going on
here?
I think
the answer
is this,
that this
was not
a matter
of racial
discrimination.
The Jews
were just
as guilty
as the
Egyptians
because they
too had
become
idolaters.
Justice
demanded
that they
be punished
for they
too had
sinned
against
God.
And so,
God does
not issue
some cheap
blanket
decree of
pardon.
He makes
provision
for those
with faith
to believe
His word
that they
might evade
the judgment
to come.
On the
morning after
the Passover
inside every
Egyptian
household,
there was
a dead
son.
And inside
every Jewish
home,
there was
a dead
lamb.
The
conclusion,
the lamb
died in
the place
of the
son.
The
surviving
eldest boy
from every
Jewish family
could say,
that lamb
died for
me.
It died
in my
place.
The
sprinkled
blood,
a sign
that death
had already
taken place.
It wasn't a
marker of
Jewishness.
It was a
marker of a
people who
had placed
their faith
in God's
word of
salvation.
And friends,
the threat of
God's judgment
is as real
today as it
ever was.
Earlier on
in this
letter,
in chapter
9,
26,
He has
appeared,
that is,
Jesus has
appeared once
for all
at the
end of
the
ages,
to put
away sin
by the
sacrifice
of
Himself.
It's
appointed for
man to
die once,
and after
that comes
judgment.
How can
any of us
avoid the
just judgment
of a
holy God?
Because we
too are
idolaters
at heart.
Friends,
the way of
escape is
the same.
We have
to trust
God's
word,
place our
faith in
the blood
of a
slain
lamb.
The lamb
is Jesus
Christ
Himself.
Paul tells
the Corinthians,
our Passover
lamb has
been sacrificed.
The lamb
has been
slain,
our redemption
paid for
in full.
And that's
why the
message of
the cross
lies at
the heart
of Christianity.
That's why
the Lord's
Supper
that we
celebrate
is so
important to
the life
and the
health of
God's
church,
because we
must never
lose sight
of the
lamb.
Behold,
the lamb
of God
who takes
away the
sin of
the world.
We must
never lose
sight of
the cross,
and we
must never
lose sight
of what
Christ has
accomplished
there in
His death.
Jesus is
the sacrificial
lamb of
God.
He was
offered up
as a
propitiation
for our
sins.
He was
given to
bear the
judgment
that was
rightfully
ours.
He was
impaled on
the cross
of Calvary
that God's
wrath might
pass over
us.
His blood
was shed
that we
might say
with the
firstborn of
Israel,
that lamb
died for
me.
He died
in my
place,
name,
bearing
shame and
scoffing
rude.
In my
place,
condemned
He stood,
sealed my
pardon with
His blood.
Hallelujah!
What a
Savior!
I wonder,
can you say
that this
evening?
The lamb
died for
me.
Jesus Christ is my Passover lamb.
Jesus Christ has given His very blood for us.
We find safety and eternal security in Him.
Nothing more is required of us
but to trust in God's Word of salvation,
to trust the message of the gospel.
Whosoever believes in Him shall not perish
but have eternal life.
Like Moses of old, faith embraces God's Word of salvation,
embraces the good news of Jesus,
and finds safety in the blood of the Lamb.
Here in the Exodus gallery,
we have these various portraits of the life of Moses.
But they're not to be viewed as pictures
hanging in a museum of dead heroes.
Instead, they're a vital call to live by faith
now in the living God.
Can you hear the words that they speak to us tonight?
Do not fear the powers of this world,
great though they may be.
Stand with God's people.
Bear the reproach of Christ,
whatever the cost.
Keep looking to the Lord.
Admit all the ups and downs of life.
And perhaps most importantly of all,
embrace the gospel
and trust in God's Word of salvation.
Find deliverance in the blood of the Lamb.
There's an old hymn.
His opening verse goes like this.
My faith looks up to thee,
thou Lamb of Calvary,
Savior divine.
Now hear me while I pray.
Take all my guilt away.
O let me from this day
be wholly thine.
May that be our prayer this evening.
Let's pray together.
God, our Father,
we thank you for your Word.
We thank you for
our Lord Jesus Christ,
our great Savior and King.
Lord, may he be truly
our treasure this evening.
Lord, help us to
rejoice in him,
to enjoy him.
And may his presence in our lives
help us
to cast away,
to throw off
all that would displace you.
Lord, help us to live
lives of living faith
in you,
the living God.
As we pray this,
in Jesus' name.
Amen.