The story of Moses’ birth takes place amid tragedy. A king arose in Egypt, a pharaoh, who was threatened by the Hebrew people. Even after the Hebrews were forced into hard labor, Pharaoh was still troubled. We do not know why. Perhaps it was sheer numbers. Perhaps it was the Hebrews’ faith in God. Perhaps it was their tenacity of spirit. Perhaps it was their obvious and unwavering confidence in a Lord of history.

Pharaoh may have been an emotionally insecure man. The storyteller wants us to understand that the number of Hebrews was sufficient to threaten those in power.

The result: Pharaoh issued a terrible decree. He ordered that all male infants born of the Hebrew women were to be thrown into the Nile River and drowned. His executive order was given to the Hebrew midwives. The midwives, however, refused. They simply could not or would not comply with such a command. So Pharaoh called them before him in the palace.

God looked favorably upon these family servants. The message is clear. Sometimes it is important for the people of God to be shrewd. The Hebrew midwives exhibited a bright, quick-witted handling of the situation.

Moses’ mother kept him securely guarded and quiet when he was a very young infant. But once he was three months old, something had to be done. She decided to hide the child.

She built a small basket of reeds from the river. She cemented the reeds together with some kind of tar or pitch. She placed her son in the basket and set it quietly afloat among the tall grasses along the edge of the Nile. She assigned the family baby-sitter to watch over him.

Capture this picture in your mind’s eye: a tiny child floating in the Nile and an older sister perhaps fifteen or twenty yards away keeping watch. The setting has an inherent beauty all its own. If the infant Moses could have spoken at this point in our story, he probably would have spoken of the miracle of an older sister who loved him and who stood watch over his basket in the river.

One day the daughter of the pharaoh came to bathe in the Nile. She heard the sound of the baby crying. Moses’ sister was assuredly alarmed at this development. She probably thought, “Oh, no. We’re done. We are discovered!”

But the baby Moses captured the heart of the princess. In one special moment a daughter of Pharaoh broke the pattern of cruelty that had been ordered in Egypt. The princess knew the edict of her father. But she also knew the innocence of this small child. Her heart claimed him. She would take him home.

Next comes what may be the most fascinating part of the initial story.

Moses’ mother raised him in the palace of the Egyptian king. Evidence indicates that she was the one who saw God at work in all of this. The whole scenario could have been coincidence, of course. It could have been blind luck. But Moses’ mother knew better.

This Hebrew mother faithfully told her son of their God. In the midst of a pagan palace of pagan religions, she spoke of God. She told him the stories of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph. And during quiet palace nights, she would even whisper in Moses’ ear the sacred name of Yahweh.

Moses knew the sacred name before he was able to talk. His mother told her son who he was and whose he was. Who whispers the name of Jesus to the children today? Who will tell today’s children the stories of Jesus, the stories of faith and hope?

In the midst of plenty and of privilege, who will keep the name of God alive? In the midst of a host of secular gods, prolific lures, and growing materialistic expectations, who will say, “Remember that you are a child of God. Remember that God alone is your strength”? In the midst of the trappings of luxury and expansive lifestyles, who will whisper the sacred name in the ear of every child?

The story of Moses is one of auspicious beginnings. The message of the storyteller seems clear. God is intimately involved and present in our lives. God is present in the cleverness of the Hebrew midwife. God is present in the softened heart of an Egyptian princess, in the quick thinking of an older sister, and in the religious fervor of a mother.

God is present. That’s the gospel in the story. God is working out a purpose in history, just as God always has and always will.