by Mesu Andrews
Taliah perked up. “The children said the dolphins are friendly. Masud grabbed one of their thick fins and rode it through the water.”
“They would also make a tasty meal.” Nadab ducked his head, anticipating his sister-in-law’s ire. Taliah threw Eleazar’s cudgel at him.
Usually quiet Ithamar had joined their camp and jumped into the fray. “Sea-cow hides make the best tent covers.” A pregnant pause emphasized his mischievous grin. “They’re water repellant.”
“Oohh!” The women groused at the thought of the fascinating creatures used for such common purposes.
The ruckus roused Hur, who’d been napping beside Miriam. He let out a horrendous snort, smacked his lips, and nestled his head in her lap. She brushed his hair off his forehead, listening to the soft snoring that had become as soothing as the splashing of waves. The tenderness he’d shown in their private moments was beyond a young girl’s dreams and an old woman’s hopes.
“Pharaoh’s fury will ignite again when he realizes we left Egypt for more than a few days’ worship,” Moses said, eyes scanning the horizon.
Eleazar’s heart squeezed in his chest. “Do you really think he’ll pursue us after all the devastation?”
“He’ll pursue us.” Moses sighed and combed his fingers through his silver hair.
Behind the camp, their soldiers trained with Ru and the other captains Joshua had appointed. Good men, all of them, but not skilled enough to defend against Egypt’s army. The whole camp would be wiped out if Yahweh didn’t protect them. “It makes no sense to wait for an army that would annihilate us.”
“It may seem that we’re trapped,” Moses said with a raised brow. “But Yahweh told me last night that we’re to camp here, near Pi Hahiroth. If Yahweh says stay, we stay. We obey Him in everything, or we wander as a people alone. It doesn’t seem like much of a choice to me.”
Eleazar turned his back while he searched the seaside camp for his wife, a way to calm himself. Taliah’s wound had healed well without festering, and she was even walking a bit now. Another reason to trust Yahweh, right?
A hand on his shoulder stopped his musing and turned him around. “There.” Moses said.
Eleazar shielded his eyes from the blazing sun and followed the direction of Moses’s pointing finger. Chariots. Hundreds of chariots. With Ramesses’s chariot leading.
Without waiting for directives from Moses, he ran to the shoreline, calling for Joshua, Aaron, and Hur. By the time they returned, a cloud of dust rose in the distance.
Their flurry roused the attention of others, throwing the camp into chaos.
“Why did you bring us into the desert to die?” A man shouted at Moses. Women wailed and children cried. Fear crawled through the tribes like a living thing, devouring the already slippery hope to which they clung.
“We shouldn’t have left Egypt,” one woman cried.
They saw the first glint of iron weapons as a seemingly endless line of chariots snaked through the mountain foothills. Horsemen followed the chariots.
Screams grew louder. Panic rose. People ran. But where could they go? They were hemmed in by mountains all around, the sea at their backs. Some collapsed where they stood, weeping.
Eleazar scanned the terrified faces. Where was Doda? Finally, he spotted her among the crowd. Standing—just standing—terror etched on her features. He’d seen her discouraged and even grief-stricken but never terrified.
He ran toward her, and she shouted as he approached, “What did Yahweh say to Moses? What must we do?”
Without answering, he hurried Doda back to their family’s campsite amid the people’s hysteria. “Was it because there were no graves in Egypt,” one man shouted, “that Moses brought us to the desert to die? Didn’t we say to him in Egypt, ‘Leave us alone; let us serve the Egyptians’?”
Eleazar peered over his shoulder and saw Moses drop to his knees and fall face down in the sand as he reached the shore. Doda must have seen it too. She covered a sob and fell into Hur’s arms as they reached the tent, hiding her face against his chest. Taliah rushed into Eleazar’s arms, trembling—or was it Eleazar’s fear that shook them both?
Miriam heard Joshua shouting orders to his men. Hittites, Nubians, Libyans, and Hebrews—right flank, archers, and other military talk. She couldn’t grasp the commands, but any defense was futile. Did he think slaves could resist the most powerful army in the world?
Moses leapt to his feet—sand still clinging to his forehead and beard—and ran back toward the panicked Israelites. His countenance had completely changed. “Hur, look.” Miriam pointed at her brother. “He’s heard from Yahweh.”
Running into the middle of the chaos, Moses waved his staff and shouted, “Don’t be afraid. Stand firm. Stand firm!” Jumping and bellowing, he gained their attention by the absolute certainty of his manner and the absurdity of his gestures. “Stand firm and you will see the deliverance Yahweh will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again.”
The crowd’s hysteria became quiet weeping.
“Yahweh will fight for us,” Moses cried. “We need only be still.”
With a magnificent Whoosh! the pillar of cloud—in which some swore they’d seen the angel of God—suddenly swirled overhead, transforming into the fiery pillar that warmed their desert nights. The fiery pillar surged and expanded, creating an impenetrable barrier at the mountain pass, protecting the entrance to their camp from the advancing Egyptians.
The light and heat drove many Hebrews to their knees, their weeping turned to wonder, their wonder to praise. The enormity of God’s majesty roared in fiery glory, and His firstborn Israel responded with a roar of worship, shaking the ground. As one, the nation lifted hands and voices, basking in the protective shelter of the One True God.
Yahweh blew a warm east wind, like a sigh of pleasure. Miriam lifted her face to the breeze and felt it intensify, the breath of God growing stronger.
Within moments, the gusting wind nearly toppled her.
Miriam searched for Moses. He stood at the edge of the Sea of Reeds with his staff extended over the water. The mighty wind whipped the water into the air, forming a strange sort of tunnel at her brother’s feet. The tunnel exposed a patch of earth, and the wind kept blowing.
Israel scattered, rushing back to their campsites to batten down their tents and belongings. Miriam, too, scurried to grab rounds of unleavened bread as their meal skittered across the beach.
“Leave it!” Hur shouted, laughing. “We’ll bake more on the other side.”
Miriam hurried back to their campsite. “What do you mean, on the other side?”
He directed her to look back to the shoreline. Moses stood with his hands raised to heaven, worshiping. The wind had now formed a narrow alley, almost two camel-lengths long and one camel-length wide, driving the water into walls on each side.
“Unbelievable,” Miriam said, pinching her husband’s arm.
“Ouch! Why did you do that?” He rubbed the tender spot.
“It’s not a dream if we experience it together.” She grinned.
Others began to point and gawk in silent wonder as the alley between walls of water began to widen. The wind blew violently, remarkably, precisely. Miriam closed her eyes, letting herself feel the wind, Yahweh’s touch—like an impassioned Lover, determined to rescue His people. She reached for her timbrel, shook it in lifted hands, and raised her voice in song—her highest praise.
“Yahweh, You have been our dwelling place throughout all generations. Before the mountains were born or You brought forth the whole world, from everlasting to everlasting You are God.”
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The Egyptians pursued them, and all Pharaoh’s horses and chariots and horsemen followed them into the sea.
—EXODUS 14:23
When the moon reached its zenith, Moses sent Aaron and Hur to call the elders to a meeting at the family’s campsite. “Yahweh is giving us until dawn to prepare our hearts. He will continue to divide the w
ater so we can cross on dry ground.”
Taliah squeezed Eleazar’s hand and snuggled close, the assurance offering welcome relief.
Moses’s smile ebbed, and his countenance grew somber. “We will be safe, but Yahweh will harden the hearts of all the Egyptians, and…” Eleazar watched his uncle struggle for words. “Pharaoh’s army will pursue us.”
The elders erupted into panicked questions, but Moses steadied the doubters with his unshakeable certainty. “Yahweh has promised that He will gain glory through Pharaoh and his army. He will prove to the Egyptians by this final act that He is the One God, and there is no other.”
Moses turned to Joshua. “There are two changes to our order of march. Rather than having the army surround Israel on all sides, we’ll assign all our soldiers as rear guard.”
“My men are ready.” Joshua seemed eager for a fight. “We’ll hold the line when Pharaoh’s army approaches.”
“There’ll be no battle.” Moses sighed again, hesitating as he addressed the elders. “Joshua’s men will gently prod any panicked Israelites who try to turn back. In fear, our people may become disoriented in the midst of the walls of water. They’ll need firm direction and compassionate leadership to steer them to the opposite shore.”
He looked over the elders’ heads at Eleazar and Hur. “That’s why I want Eleazar to wait with Hur and Miriam’s cart to cross last, with our army. Our nation must see me leading Aaron’s cart at the front and Hur and Miriam’s cart at the rear while they are flanked by Yahweh’s mighty protection. Stability and security. It’s what our people will need when they see Pharaoh’s army charging toward them.”
Without comment or question, the elders dispersed to inform their tribes. Ru sounded the ram’s horn, the signal for the army to gather, and he and Joshua left to assign the army’s new positions.
Eleazar drew Taliah near. “I want you in Abba and Ima’s wagon at the front.”
She snuggled into his embrace and whispered, “I’m staying in your cart. Besides, it will take a miracle of Yahweh to get your Ima Elisheba to go first across that divide.”
As if on cue, Ima’s voice shattered the quiet. “Aaron and I need to be in the middle of the people, not in front. They depend on his strength and calm among them. Choose another cart to rush in first.”
Moses took two steps, placing himself directly in front of her. “Elisheba, my wife Zipporah is much like you. She loves loud and requires a quiet assault to breach the walls of her heart.” He leaned forward and spoke within a handbreadth of her face. “But yours and Aaron’s cart will lead the nation across the sea at dawn.”
Remarkably, Ima grew still, but the flutter of fear spread through the camp as elders imparted news of the coming confrontation.
Dawn. Yahweh had given them until dawn to prepare their hearts.
The clang of a timbrel startled Eleazar, but Doda’s low hum soothed. Soon, the whole camp pulsed with the rhythm and sway of quiet praise. Eleazar even dozed a little.
As Moses approached the mighty standing waves, Miriam watched Aaron sit like a stone on the driver’s bench while Elisheba’s grousing could be heard over the rushing water. Her eldest nephew Nadab stood on the ground beside his ima, trying to soothe her, while Abihu held the frightened oxen steady. Miriam wasn’t sure which of her nephews had the more difficult task. Ithamar offered encouragement to six elderly people in a nearby cart. Such a good boy.
“Yahweh, protect them,” Miriam whispered as Moses took the oxen’s reins from Nadab and began his march toward a long patch of fallen reeds marking the entrance of God’s escape.
Miriam felt as if Pharaoh’s horses raced inside her chest. The prospect of being trapped on all sides by people and deep water didn’t appeal to her, but she refused to show fear.
The tribes fell into order, pouring onto the dry land between the divided waters. A handful of families hesitated slightly, but others gathered around them to encourage and help them across. The sight was staggering. Thousands of people—mostly Hebrew, but also a sprinkling of Egyptians, Libyans, Nubians, and Hittites—hurried into God’s alleyway of escape. Women led donkeys that carried household goods, and children helped drive flocks of sheep and goats, while men managed herds of cattle and oxen.
“Are you ready?” Eleazar called back to them. “The tribes of Ephraim and Manasseh have crossed the reeds. We should line up behind Benjamin.”
Hur drew Miriam close and raised his bristly brows. Hands trembling, she clutched the timbrel in her lap. “I’m ready,” she said. “Let Yahweh be praised.”
Eleazar clicked his tongue, and their oxen began plodding through the sand, giant hooves digging deep and dragging the cart across the beach. Joshua’s ram’s horn sounded, signaling Israel’s army to fall into position as rear guard.
As the final band of Hebrews drew nearer the towering walls, Miriam experienced their sheer magnitude. The water rose higher than any of Ramesses’s statues with a roar that was deafening. Light from Yahweh’s fire shone into the mist from the towering walls, creating an iridescent glow through which the nation walked. A reverent awe settled over God’s people as they walked the dry ground of His provision.
Fear was gone. Yahweh reigned.
Hur reached out to brush droplets from her cheek, his eyes shining with tears. “Remember this moment, Miriam. We must recount it to every generation.”
She bent to rest her forehead against his. Thank You, Yahweh, for this man who is Your voice to me, Your love to me, Your presence in my last days.
The sound of a trumpet rent the air, stealing Miriam’s attention. Looking over her shoulder at Yahweh’s fiery blockade, terror shot through her. “The fire is changing!”
When the lower portion of God’s pillar became a cloud—a veil that couldn’t stop chariots—a second trumpet launched Pharaoh’s chariots into action.
“Go! Go! Go!” Joshua shouted behind them. Some of his men rushed to prod their cart’s oxen while others ran past them to hurry the tribes ahead.
Hur gathered Miriam into his arms, and she looked back again at Yahweh’s fading protection. The last Hebrew soldier had just passed over the threshold of broken reeds. “Pharaoh’s army will overtake us.” The words came out in a whisper. She closed her eyes and buried her face on Hur’s shoulder. Yahweh had warned them of Pharaoh’s pursuit, but not this. Not this, Yahweh!
Lost in a fog of pandemonium, she could do nothing but wait. Trapped in the rear of this procession with these vexatious oxen. Anger welled up with fear as panic spread ahead of them. Thousands screamed. Donkeys brayed. Children cried. Terrorized by Pharaoh, King of Two Lands, Ruler of Egypt.
Why? Why were they terrified when Yahweh had warned them of His plan? Yahweh had even told them the precise moment at dawn to begin their march.
Miriam sat up as straight as a measuring rod and looked over her shoulder again. The fire of God still shimmered, but its brilliance had almost completely faded into a cloud with morning’s light. The chariots reached the beach, Ramesses leading them. His double crown and regal bearing were unmistakable.
Memories of Ramesses as a child flashed in her mind. With angry tears and willful tantrums, he’d always gotten his way. Sety had never denied his son. No one had—until Yahweh.
“Look at the walls of water, everyone!” Miriam shouted, pointing to the right and left. “Focus on God’s glory!”
Eleazar repeated the command to those ahead. “Look at the walls. Focus on God’s glory!” Soon, the words echoed through the nation, forming a rhythmic marching mantra. “Look at the walls. Focus on God’s glory. Look at the walls. Focus on God’s glory….”
Hur and Miriam grabbed each other’s hands and shouted the refrain, staring at the magnificence of Yahweh’s escape route. Then curiosity caused Miriam to look behind them again.
Pharaoh’s horses strained forward across the beach where God’s people had camped, flinging sand and spinning chariot wheels until they were mired to their axels. The Egyptians shifted their wei
ght out of the chariots to shove with one foot as they held tightly to reins and rails. Slowed, but not stopped, Pharaoh and his men were relentless even covered in sand. The Hebrews were only one hundred chariot lengths ahead of the advancing army. If the chariots made it across the reeds, the horses would fly over the smooth seabed.
Hur began to pray while he, too, focused on Pharaoh’s men. “Yahweh, Your power and might are supreme, and though we cannot guess Your plan, we will not doubt Your goodness.”
Tears stung Miriam’s eyes as she buried her face in her husband’s chest. “We will never doubt Yahweh’s goodness.” Oh, to remember that always.
“Can’t these oxen go faster?” Taliah screamed, on the verge of hysteria.
Miriam reached for her hand, and Taliah desperately clutched Miriam’s hand. “Remember, my girl, you wanted a God you couldn’t understand to do the things we know are impossible.” Taliah nodded, still trembling violently. Miriam squeezed her hand, infusing what courage she could. “Watch for the impossible. We serve such a God.”
Hur leaned over to speak above the noise. “Pharaoh has reached the line of reeds.”
Miriam looked, heart in her throat. It didn’t matter now how fast the oxen went. They could never outrun Pharaoh’s stallions. Yahweh, deliver us!
As the first chariots entered the seabed, another trumpet sounded, and the chariots slowed. Ramesses looked left and right, utterly perplexed that another trumpet signaled the halt. His face twisted with rage, screaming at the trumpeter nearby.
Yahweh’s fading cloud suddenly swirled behind them, lifting sand and debris into a whirlwind, further confounding Egypt’s advance.
The oxen continued their jog, and Miriam covered a joyful sob. Thank You, Yahweh. Like an annoying fly, He was pestering Pharaoh, toying with the mighty king. Hope surged until she saw the whirlwind die. She heard the snap of reins against war horses and saw chariots lurch forward again, resuming their pursuit.
They advanced at an alarming speed; Miriam could now make out the red-feathered headpieces on Pharaoh’s horses. Trembling all over, she jangled the timbrel unconsciously. Egypt’s archers were within easy range of the last third of the rushing Hebrews. Why hadn’t they fired? Even Miriam realized the military error—or was it another of Yahweh’s interventions?