The Story of the Exodus

Tonight we tell the oldest story. Not because we've forgotten it. But because every time we tell it, we hear something new.

Imagine Egypt. Not the pyramids. Not the movies. The bricks. A people who had been there for four hundred years. So long that slavery felt normal. So long that some of them forgot they were ever anything else.

Pharaoh was afraid of them. Not because they were powerful. Because there were too many of them. So he did what power always does when it's threatened. He crushed them. Harder work. Longer hours. And when that wasn't enough, he went after the children. Power always goes after the children.

But they cried out. That's what the text says. They didn't organize. They didn't strategize. They cried. And God heard them. Not because the cry was eloquent. Because the cry was honest.

And then there was Moses. A man who stuttered. A man with a criminal record. A man who ran away from his calling for forty years. And God said: you're the one. God has a strange hiring process. Ten plagues. Each one a direct challenge to an Egyptian god. The Nile turned to blood. Darkness covered the land. And finally, the firstborn. The night the angel of death walked through Egypt and passed over the homes marked with blood on the doorpost.

And then they left. In the middle of the night. With bread that hadn't risen and jewelry their neighbors pressed into their hands. Four hundred years of slavery ended between midnight and dawn. That's how fast God moves when he decides it's time.

Three days later, the army came. Behind them: horses and chariots. In front of them: the sea. And Moses said the most outrageous thing anyone has ever said in a military situation: "Stand still and see the salvation of the Lord." Stand still. With an army behind you. And a sea in front of you. Stand still.

And the sea opened. Not a metaphor. Not a symbol. The water stood up on both sides and a nation walked through on dry ground. And when the last sandal touched the other side, the water closed.

That's the story. Every year. Every table. Every generation. Because the God who did this is the same God sitting at your table tonight. And he's not done yet.