The labor pains began early on a Sunday morning. They were subtle and intermittent enough that I ignored them and got dressed for church. My due date was still a week away, and I didn’t want to be an alarmist with first-baby jitters. As a precaution, we called the doctor and were surprised when she advised us to meet her at the hospital on our way to church.
An hour later, she’d broken my water and informed my husband and me that worship services wouldn’t be on our agenda for that day. To our surprise, she got up to leave and informed us she wouldn’t be back until it was time to deliver the baby. At that point, we knew we were in for a long day.
Labor progressed at a glacial pace. The nurses encouraged me to walk around the room to kick the contractions into gear. Wheeling my IV pole beside me, I shuffled in circles wearing my hospital gown and non-slip socks. I was famished and annoyed the staff would only allow me to eat popsicles and ice chips. When my husband asked if he could slip out to get something to eat, I was surprised to discover it was already mid-afternoon and disheartened that I was still nowhere close to delivery.
Eventually, the waves of pain made it difficult to walk, so I got back into bed and waited for labor to progress. As the contractions became more powerful, my stomach rejected all the popsicles I’d eaten earlier. Colorful liquid came back up with a vengeance as my husband bravely held a shallow kidney-shaped dish to my mouth. At that point, I recognized the wisdom of the nurses who had seemed so cruel for not letting me eat solid food a few hours earlier.
My labor had begun at sunrise and family members had started arriving at the hospital after lunch. As dusk faded into darkness, most of them were still in the waiting room anxious for news of our child’s arrival. It wasn’t until around 8pm that I started pushing. Only then did I truly understand why the birth of a baby is called “labor.” With each push, I envisioned the most difficult workouts I’d ever experienced. I pictured myself pedaling hard up a steep dirt trail with my heart pounding, lungs burning, and sweat pouring off my face. Still, the duration and intensity of the delivery far exceeded even the most challenging hill I’d climbed on my mountain bike.
An hour and a half after starting to push, our firstborn child finally arrived into the world. I’d delivered a healthy baby boy on a warm, Mother’s Day evening. Never had I felt such a powerful combination of pure joy and utter exhaustion.
If you’ve ever given birth or witnessed this miracle, you know delivering a child is painful, messy, beautiful, and emotional. It’s a grueling process we willingly endure because the results are worth it; labor and delivery result in new life.
While it might sound strange, this process of giving birth is what I envisioned as I turned the page on a new Bible study: Jen Wilkin’s God of Deliverance: A Study of Exodus 1-18. Webster’s dictionary defines an exodus as “a going out; particularly (the Exodus), the going out or journey of the Israelites from Egypt under the conduct of Moses; and hence, any large migration from a place.”
Just like a baby “goes out” of his mother after she expends tremendous effort, the children of Israel went out from Egypt after considerable trials. Look at the language in Scripture and you’ll see the parallel: “The Israelites groaned in their slavery and cried out, and their cry for help because of their slavery went up to God.” (Exodus 2:23b)
We’re going to see that like the delivery of a baby, the deliverance of the Israelites from slavery was a long, messy, and challenging process. As we study, we’ll also discover parallels between the deliverance of the Israelites from slavery under the leadership of Moses and the deliverance of all people from the bondage of sin through Jesus: “Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:25a) Jen Wilkin describes Jesus as the “true and better Moses.”1
Even now, we await deliverance from our earthly bodies when Jesus returns in His glory: “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies.” (Romans 8:22-23, NIV)
Author and pastor Paul David Tripp explains, “Difficult moments of life are not the failure of God’s plan or in the way of God’s plan; these moments are part of his plan. They are placed in our lives as tools of his ongoing work of rescuing, transforming, and delivering grace. They are in our lives because the God we serve esteems holiness more than he esteems our temporal definition of happiness. He is not working to give us that temporary situational emotional high; he is working to produce something much better—eternal joy.”2
As we study Exodus, let’s keep in mind that deliverance is a process. This was true for the Israelites, but it’s also true for us as we grow in faith and continue to grapple with sin. Like childbirth, deliverance is painful and not always linear. It requires strength, courage, and trust in God. Sometimes it stalls or takes longer than expected. What may seem harsh or cruel has a purpose that is for the good of those being delivered—both the Israelites then and followers of Jesus now.
I hope you’ll join me on the journey through Exodus 1-18. I can’t wait to see what God has in store for us.
Enjoy the song “Deliverer” by Matt Maher and celebrate the freedom you have through Christ. Click here to watch and listen.
1. Jen Wilkin, God of Deliverance: A Study of Exodus 1-18, Lifeway Press, 2021.
2. Paul David Tripp, New Morning Mercies: A Daily Gospel Devotional, Crossway, 2014, September 7 entry.