Hands of Defiance: Fear God, Not Kings

[Timl1980]

Part Two – The First Test

 

Research: Exodus 1:17 says the midwives “feared the true God and did not do what the king of Egypt had told them.” Archaeological records show Hebrew homes in Goshen were small mud‑brick dwellings, often one room, with reed mats for beds and oil lamps for light. Childbirth was dangerous, often attended by female relatives and midwives. Infant mortality was high...but Pharaoh’s decree turned every birth into a battlefield.

 

A baby’s cry can be the sound of life...or the sound of death.

 

The sun was sinking low, bleeding red across the Nile as Shiphrah hurried through the narrow alleys of Goshen. The smell of dung fires and baking bread clung to the air. Children darted past, their laughter thin and nervous, like sparrows startled from a field. Puah walked beside her, silent, her jaw set hard as stone.

 

They had barely left Pharaoh’s palace when the first summons came. A Hebrew woman, heavy with labor, had been carried into a mud‑brick house at the edge of the quarter. Her cries already echoed down the street, raw and desperate.

 

Inside, the room was dim, lit only by a single oil lamp. The mother’s face glistened with sweat, her hands clawing at the reed mat beneath her. Her husband hovered in the shadows, eyes wide with fear. He knew the decree. Everyone did.

 

Shiphrah knelt, her hands steady though her heart thundered. She had delivered dozens of babies, but never under the weight of such a command. If it is a son, you must put him to death. Pharaoh’s words hissed in her ears like a serpent...daring her to act.

 

The baby crowned. A cry split the air...thin, piercing, alive. Shiphrah lifted the child, slick with blood and newness, and in that instant the world seemed to stop.

 

It was a boy.

 

The husband gasped. The mother’s eyes locked on Shiphrah’s, pleading, begging without words. Puah’s hand gripped her arm, hard enough to bruise.

 

Outside, the heavy tramp of sandals echoed closer. Egyptian soldiers, patrolling, their bronze spearheads catching the last light of day.

 

Shiphrah’s breath caught. In her arms, the child wailed louder, his tiny fists flailing against the night.

 

The soldiers suddenly stopped just outside the door, listening. Then came the sharp hammering of fists pounding against the wood. “Open! Open this door...RIGHT NOW!"