Hey y 'all, welcome to the Semi -Seminarian.
I'm Pastor Jim, and if you've ever felt boxed
in, beat down, or backed into a corner, then
tonight's story might just sound like your own.
We're talking about the parting of the Red Sea,
where God made a way where there wasn't one,
and fear gave way to formation. Now, if you grew
up on like Children's Church Moses or Charlton
Heston reruns around Easter, You've probably
seen this scene a dozen times. But what if I
told you this wasn't just a miracle moment? It
was a discipleship blueprint. A story, not just
about splitting water, but about splitting from
the systems that keep us stuck. This is a story
for anybody who's ever stood at a dead end with
fear closing in and no good options on the map.
It's about learning to walk forward when forward
looks like drowning. So, wherever you're listening
from, the cab will pick up truck, front porch,
fellowship hall, pull up a chair. Tonight, you're
joining us virtually for our church's Wednesday
night meal and Bible study. There's still a few
of Jan's cookies left, if you can grab one and
be quick. You might also find some iced tea or
a cup of David's coffee floating around, but
just a heads up. You might want to add an ice
cube or two to that coffee. He makes it a little
bit strong. But don't tell him I said that. You
may not be at the table, but friend, you are
a part of the circle. Let's see what God does
when the way forward doesn't look like a way
at all. And I'll see you on the other side. Well,
tonight I want to talk about part of a scripture
that I think is really cool. It's in Exodus 14.
It's the parting of the Red Sea. Now, if you
were with us on Sunday and we talked about the
crossing of the Jordan, I'm curious, did you
guys know that when they crossed the Jordan that
God parted those waters? Did you know? You didn't?
Okay, good. You did. Okay. Not everybody, right?
But yeah, a lot of people, you know, I didn't
know that part, which is always great. Anytime
I do this and somebody goes, I didn't know that
about the story. I'm like, so anyway, I want
to go back and actually look at the Exodus 14
story, the Red Sea story. But let me begin before
I start with scripture. Let me begin with an
illustration. Like, I remember trying to get
to one of Carrie's relatives one time and was
in Kansas. Every country road, every wheat field
in Kansas looks like every other country road
and every other wheat field. And a couple of
wrong turns at section lines. And then we found
ourselves like on a cattle trail. The road just
stopped and became a cattle trail. And in that
moment, I had this quiet, humbling realization
that guys hate to admit. I'm lost. Now, not dangerously
lost, just directionally humbled. And in that
stillness with only the sound of a mooing cow
and the static of a weak radio reception, it
occurred to me this wasn't a mistake. It was
a reminder. A reminder that sometimes God leads
us exactly where we would not choose to go, not
because he's punishing us. but because he wants
to show us something that we couldn't learn any
other way. Sometimes clarity comes not with certainty,
but with stillness. Sometimes the road to promise
runs right through the place that makes us the
most uncomfortable. So there I was, frustrated,
lost, three wrong turns into what I thought was
the right direction. And as I sat there in that
moment, It hit me. Sometimes God leads us the
long way around. Sometimes he takes us to the
edge of ourselves before he shows us what he
can really do in our lives. Now, you may not
have been on some section line road in Kansas
recently, but we've all had our own Red Sea moments.
Moments where forward felt impossible, backward
was blocked, and panic was our passenger. Today,
again, we're talking about one of the most iconic,
mysterious, and theologically rich stories in
Scripture, the parting of the Red Sea in Exodus
14. But we're not just reading ancient history,
we're walking through a pattern that God uses
still today. He leads, we panic. He provides,
and we become something new. So let's get under
the hood of the story, not just the miracle moment,
but the historical background, the emotional
weight, the trauma of slavery, the politics of
empire, the stubbornness of human fear. And why
do we want to talk about all this stuff when
I've come to a Bible study? Because if you understand
that part, because once you see actually where
they were in their lives and what they actually
faced in the moment, you'll begin to see yourself
standing in the sand right next to him. So Exodus
14, first four verses. Then the Lord said to
Moses, tell the Israelites to turn back and encamp
near Pi -heroth, between Migdal and the sea.
Pharaoh will think the Israelites are wandering,
and I will harden Pharaoh's heart, but I'll gain
glory for myself. This desert geography, again,
what are you talking about? This desert geography
comes with a purpose. Pi Haroth, it means the
mouth of freedom. But to Israel, it looked like
a dead end. Why? Because the topography of that
area creates a natural choke point. Behind them
is Pharaoh's army. In front of them... is the
Red Sea, and to one side, mountains, and to the
other side, desert. They are surrounded with
nowhere to go. Now, let's talk about Egypt for
a second. Egypt at the time was the most powerful
empire on earth. Pharaoh's army was equipped
with horses, chariots, spears. Israel had nothing.
No weapons, no strategy, no military experience.
They were recently freed slaves, barely even
organized, and still carrying kneaded bowls of
unleavened dough. And to top it all off, God
had put them there. Now socially, let's remember,
they're just a group of freed slaves that share
a religion. They're not yet... a people. They
were a mass of tribes, yes, with a common ancestry,
a history of oppression, and a little shared
spiritual formation. Remember again, they don't
have the Torah yet. The law of Moses hasn't come
yet. There's decades before that happens. There's
no tabernacle. There's no king. The people of
God have no clear identity. In fact, what would
eventually become the nation of Israel would
take another 400 years into the future to finally
take shape. Through wilderness wandering, conquest,
the judges, and then the eventual establishment
of a monarchy under the first king, Saul. At
this point in the narrative, They are a congregation
of ex -slaves with a promise but no infrastructure.
A calling but no constitution. A future but no
framework. And relationally, there were trust
fractures already. Moses had credibility issues.
Remember the narrative. Moses had gone from prince...
To murderer, to shepherd, and now to redeemer.
Even though they had got removed from Pharaoh's
power, he still wasn't quite their guy yet. He
was trying to lead a traumatized people through
an identity crisis. And then what does God do
in the midst of that? He corners them. Why? Because
he wants to demonstrate something about who he
is and about what they are about to become. And
so our first big idea for this evening in the
story is this. The presence of pressure does
not mean the absence of God. Sometimes God will
allow ourselves. God will let us paint ourselves
into a corner. Not because he's abandoned us,
but so that there is no mistaking who should
get the credit for getting us out of the mess,
bringing us out of the wilderness when deliverance
finally comes. Exodus 14, 10 through 12. As Pharaoh
approached, the army behind them rapidly coming
towards them. The Israelites looked up. They
were terrified. Was it, they asked Moses, was
it because there were no graves in Egypt that
you have brought us out to the desert to die?
This isn't just fear. This is actually the reverberation
of generational trauma. Egypt was a system that
dehumanized them, but it was also the system
they knew. It gave them a schedule, a meal, a
defined, if miserable, role. Oppression over
time had become some sort of distorted normal.
Even though it was horrid, they knew what each
day would hold, even when it was suffering. And
there's a strange kind of comfort and familiarity.
and predictability in our lives, even when it's
cruel. What they feared now wasn't Pharaoh. It
was the unknown. The wilderness, the desert,
was a blank page. Egypt, for all of its horror,
was the cruel master that they at least understood.
Sometimes predictable change. Chains can feel
safer to us than uncertain freedom. And now they
are outside the system they understood, following
a God they barely know, being led by a man they
don't fully quite trust yet. Now, another thing
maybe that might shed some light onto this story.
The sarcasm on the surface of what they asked
Moses, right, should be understandable. After
all, they're facing what seems like to them certain
death. But I bet you didn't know this about Egyptian
burial culture. Egypt was arguably the burial
capital of the whole world. Their pyramids were
tombs. Their temples commemorated the dead. and
their economy revolved around preparing for the
afterlife. Entire industries were dedicated to
the manufacture, the entombment of these things,
divine transition. To die in Egypt would be to
die in a place that treated death with reverence,
ritual, and social structure. So when the Israelites
say, were there no graves in Egypt, they aren't
just being melodramatic. They're actually making
a grim point. If we're going to die, couldn't
we have at least done it somewhere that knows
how to do death right? It's like saying, you
took me out of the hospital so that I can bleed
out in the back alley. That's the irony. They
left the most funeral -obsessed culture in the
world only to die, they believe, in the most
forsaken place on earth. This is more than a
quip. It's cultural indictment wrapped in panic.
It reveals how deeply embedded Egypt still is
to them. Even in fear. Even in death. Egypt feels
more secure to them than God. This is the language
of a people steeped in generational oppression,
crying out in a moment of total vulnerability,
expressing panic in the only way they knew how.
And relationally, the people... Lash out. Trauma
doesn't process calmly, I think a lot of us know.
Trauma flails in us. They accuse Moses, they
accuse God, and underneath it all is this primeval
human fear. We were better off back then. Big
idea here is fear sometimes can make us forget.
Fear will distort our memory. It can romanticize
bondage and make freedom feel dangerous to us.
It magnifies what we left behind and minimizes
what God is actually doing in our lives. So what's
God's response? Exodus 14, 13 through 15, Moses
answers, do not be afraid. Stand firm. The Lord
will fight for you. You will only need to be
still. Then the Lord said, why are you crying
out to me? Tell the Israelites to move on. Moses
gives a word of calm. God gives a command of
action. Stand still, yes, but be moving forward.
The divine instruction challenges a core instinct
in the human heart. to wait until we can see
the path open up before we step in. But here,
God commands movement before the miracle. Remember
that from Sunday? They had to step in the water,
right? Remember? Israel is called to move while
the sea is still raging. This moment sparks a
pivotal spiritual point. Because God's not just
rescuing a people. He's retraining their instincts.
Remember, they had lived for generations in a
world where their movement was controlled. Freedom
was punished. And agency, their own personal
wills, was foreign news to them. Now God says
move, not because it's safe, because he's present.
Now, in the ancient Near East, the sea was a
symbol of chaos. The gods of surrounding nations
like Baal and Yom were believed to rule over
the waters. So when Yahweh splits the seas, not
just saving Israel, he's declaring cosmic authority.
He's showing he alone can subdue the chaos, not
just for his glory, but for the people's formation.
This, friends, is the moment where Israel has
to decide who are we going to trust? The system
we have left or the God calling us forward? That
empire gave them structure or a God that can
give us identity. This isn't just deliverance
from slavery. It's discipleship. Faith, friends,
moves forward even when the path hasn't parted
yet. God didn't part the sea so that they would
believe. He parted the sea because they stepped
out. The story continues. The miracle unfolds.
Exodus 14, 21 -22. Then Moses stretched out his
hand over the sea, and all night the Lord drove
the sea back to the strong east wind and turned
it into dry land. The waters were divided, and
the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground
with a wall of water on their right and on their
left. Now here's a detail we often miss. All
that night, this miracle wasn't instant. It was
progressive. It was also hidden in the dark.
God's deliverance doesn't come like a flash of
lightning in the middle of daylight. It came
in the slow, howling hours of the night while
Israel waited. In biblical imagery, the east
wind is a tool of both judgment and deliverance.
It brought the locusts on Egypt, but also drove
apart the sea for Israel. It's a symbol of divine
intervention that defies human prediction. And
for the people of God, this is a test. Every
footstep is an act of faith. You're not just
walking on dry land, but the floor of a sea that
has been freshly exposed by a miracle. You can
hear the roar of the water. You see the wall
rise on either side. This isn't safe, but it's
sacred. In a culture without boats, without naval
technology, without precedent for what they're
seeing, this isn't just awe. It's terror wrapped
in obedience. Parents holding their children.
Elders clinging. To carts, they're all wondering,
is this really happening? Will the water stay
up? Can we really trust the path? Big idea here
is God often makes a way through what should
have wasted us away. He doesn't just remove the
obstacle. He makes the obstacle the miracle.
The sea isn't gone. It's parted. It's still there,
but no longer a threat. Now it becomes a testimony.
Exodus 15 now, first few verses of that chapter.
Then Moses and the Israelites sang this song
to the Lord. I will sing to the Lord for he is
highly exalted. Both horse and driver have hurled
into the sea. The Lord is my strength and my
defense. He has become my salvation. Songs are
memory devices. In a culture with limited, at
best, literacy, no printing press, melody was
theology's vehicle. Songs weren't just for worship.
They were for identity. The Song of the Sea became
Israel's anthem. It's a retelling, a declaration,
a liturgical tattoo across generations. Every
year at Passover, this song would echo in homes,
reminding children that their ancestors walked
through water not because of their strength,
but because of God's intervention. Every generation
would sing this moment back into their bones.
And socially, this is a seismic shift. who had
only ever cried under oppression, now cry out
in praise. Slaves rarely sing. Free people do.
And when they do, they don't just sing, they
testify. The psalm becomes more than a celebration.
It becomes folklore. It becomes a spiritual infrastructure
of a people with no land, but yet a shared liberation.
becomes theology set to a rhythm, maybe four
-four time. This is how people remember when
memory is all that they have. It's how faith
can survive in the shadows. These aren't just
songs. The sacred texts pass down with rhythm
and raw honesty. They carry identity, they shape
our imagination, and they preserve our hope.
The cultural transmission of music and the theological
transmission of Scripture are not opposites.
They're mirrors. This connection is why we look
at songs this way, to hold up the hymns as well
as the hollers of our people. And when we do,
we can see the gospel staring right back at us.
Think of the songs we sing today, songs our grandparents
taught us, songs... That shape our Sunday school
classes, our road trips, maybe a revival. It's
not just nostalgia, it's legacy. Songs are how
we carry truths when we're too tired to preach
and too tired to recite. And this is true across
cultures. Songs of deliverance and protest are
woven into the fabric of human survival. African
American spirituals, Appalachian hymns, Irish
rebel ballads, the Psalms of David. They're not
sung because life is perfect. They're sung because
God is present. In the same way, the Song of
the Sea becomes Israel's first folk gospel song.
Worship isn't just celebrated. It's a resistance.
It says we are not what oppression shaped us
to be. We are what Yahweh delivered us to become.
And it's their first act as a worshiping community.
And it sets the tone for the kind of people that
they'll eventually become. So what about you?
What's your Red Sea? Where are you feeling hemmed
in? What if that place of pressure is actually
the platform for God's power? Maybe God has led
you to a place where the only option is forward
into the uncertain, into the untested, the uncomfortable,
and maybe, just maybe, that's the only place
that you would finally trust him enough to let
him carry you through. So here's the invitation
from this message tonight. Don't wait for the
waters to part. Step forward while the wind is
still blowing. And don't romanticize Egypt. Remember
what God's already brought you out of. Don't
underestimate what worship can bring to you in
your battles. Let's pray. God, we're often afraid
when we cannot see the way. Give us courage to
trust you in the dark, strength to walk forward
while the waters rage, and grace to worship you
when we've reached the other side. Amen? Amen.
Thanks, guys. Hey, thanks for walking with me
through the Red Sea today. I don't know what
kind of waters you're standing in front of, what
fear is chasing you down or what miracle you're
waiting for, but I do know this. The God who
parted the sea then is still making impossible
doors open today. If this episode stirred something
in you, if it helped you see your story in Israel's
struggle, share it with a friend. Maybe someone
else needs to be reminded that their dead ends
is just the beginning of God's deliverance. Until
next time, this is old Pastor Jim from the Semi
-Seminary and reminding you that God doesn't
just lead us out, He leads us through. Sometimes,
He writes the best theology in the middle of
the flood. Be blessed, stay curious, and keep
walking forward. I'll see you next time.