Lesson 1: Oppression: The Background and the Birth of Moses
1.7 Questions
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Introduction: When Blessing Becomes Trial
Why does God allow people to suffer? Why does He sometimes intervene so lateβso seemingly too late? And how does it fit into Godβs plan that a man marked by violence, anger, and guiltβlike Mosesβbecomes the deliverer? These questions are not only theological challenges but also deeply existential, human tensions.
God doesnβt always act according to our timetableβbut He does act. This devotion will take you on a journey through ancient biblical truths and a modern story that makes those same principles tangible.
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Answers to the Questions
Question 1: Why did the Hebrews live in Egypt and suffer for so long?
God permitted the descendants of Jacob to live in Egypt because it was part of a larger salvation plan. Originally they came as guests (cf. Genesis 45β46), provided for and preserved during famine. But over time the political situation changedβthe memory of Joseph faded, and guests became slaves.
God had already foretold in Genesis 15:13 that Abrahamβs offspring would be oppressed for 400 years in a foreign land. This was not a failure on Godβs part but part of a grand timetableβincluding the βfull measure of the iniquityβ of the Canaanites, whose land Israel would later inherit (Genesis 15:16).
Why did it last so long?
Each individual suffered only as long as he lived. But the nation learned, across those generations, patience, dependence, hope, faithfulness, and how desperately they needed a deliverer.
This distinctionβbetween individual suffering and collective timeβis crucial. It helps us understand that God works both with us as individuals and with us as part of a greater story. In Godβs eyes, each human life is preciousβbut He never loses sight of the overarching plan of redemption.
Question 2: How did God use Mosesβ impulsive act?
Moses was forty years old when he killed the Egyptian. From a human standpoint it was a mistakeβindeed, a sin: murder. Yet God used that hasty deed to set Moses on the path that would ultimately lead him into the wilderness. Thereβin secretβhe was shaped, humbled, and prepared for his true calling.
Would Godβs plan have failed if Moses hadnβt done it? No. God never depends on human failure, but He is never surprised by it. He can incorporate detoursβand use them for His purposes.
God does not exploit our sinβbut He can transform its consequences into grace, if we open ourselves to Him.
Moses was not used in spite of his past, but through it. His flight marked the beginning of his calling. The wilderness became his seminary. And his failure humbled him enough to become Godβs instrument.
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Spiritual Principles
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Godβs timing is not our timingβbut it is perfect.
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God allows suffering not to break us, but to shape us.
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Hidden years are not wasted years.
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Our guilt can become the starting point of Godβs story of grace.
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Application for Daily Life
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If you are suffering: Donβt only ask βWhy, God?β but also βWhat are You teaching me?β
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If you are waiting: Remember that Moses spent forty years in the wilderness before God called him again.
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If you have failed: Your failure is not the end. It can be the beginning of your calling.
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If you grow impatient: Know that God works even in long processesβamong nations and in hearts.
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Conclusion
Godβs plans span generations, yet He sees your heart today. If you are enduring suffering, donβt forget: God has not forgotten you. And if you look back like Moses on something you regretβhear this: Itβs not over yet. Perhaps God is just beginning something new right now.
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Thought of the Day
God is patientβwith nations, with life stories, with you.
Donβt confuse Godβs silence with His absence.
He may be shaping youβperhaps through what you most want to avoid.
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Illustration: βWaiting Behind Glassβ
Jan-David sat motionless in his one-room apartment in Berlin-NeukΓΆlln. Rain drummed against the windowpane like a metronome for his inner turmoil. His heart pounded; his hands still shook. On his sweater was a dark stainβdried blood.
He had struck someone.
Not just anyoneβan assailant who, on the street, had attacked a refugee youth. Jan had seen it happen, intervened, shouted, shoved, and struck. A reflex. Anger. A kind of justice born raw and explosive.
The boy escaped. The man fell, bleeding from a gash above his eye.
Now? Charges. Police. He faced pretrial detention.
Jan was thirty-two, a social worker at a youth center. Committed. Well-liked. Yet deep downβangry. Always.
He had carried questions for years: Why had his father abandoned them? Why had God taken his mother so early? Why was justice always so slow, so distant?
Now he stood on the brink. Fired. Publicly shamed. Suspended. And insideβempty.
Part 2: The Wilderness
A friendβan ex-colleagueβoffered him a refuge in southern Germany. A small house at the edge of a forest, far from the city. It was the first time in years Jan had no appointments to keep, no groups to lead, no meetings to attend.
Just trees. Mist. Silence.
There he began to keep a journalβand to pray. At first in fragments. Tentatively. Then more openly, more honestly.
βWhy have You brought me here, God? Am I not burned up?β
In an old bookshelf he found a tattered Bible. The cover was torn, but openedβby chanceβit lay open to Exodus 2.
βAnd Moses fled from Pharaoh and lived in the land of Midian.β
He read on of Moses, the prince turned murderer, who fled and spent forty years tending sheep. Forgotten. Lost. And there encountered Godβin the burning bush.
Jan closed the Bible.
A thought struck him like an arrow:
βEven if you have failedβGod has not written you off.β
Part 3: The Call
Two years later.
Jan lived again in Berlinβbut no longer as a social worker. He now served in a βZwischenRaumβ project: a Christian center for men who had fallen through life because of violence or drugs. He was not the leader, not the rescuerβbut a listener. A companion.
Once a young man, Bilal, sat before him with folded arms.
βI messed up, okay? Iβm done. People like me donβt get a second chance.β
Jan nodded slowly.
βYou know who Moses was? A man who killedβand God still used him.β
Bilal looked up, visibly moved for the first time.
βYou mean God still sees me?β
Jan smiled.
βNot in spite of it. Because of it. Because you know how dark it can get.β
Epilogue: Afterglow
On a cold autumn morning, Jan sat again by a window. Rain traced lines down the glass.
This time he did not fear the silence.
He thought of his old lifeβthe moment of violence, the loneliness of the wilderness, the still, small voice of God whispering through broken panes.
βI have seen you. I have heard your cry. And I am sending you.β
Not with power. Not with fame. But with wounds that have become bridges.