“Silent witnesses: a basket”
Exodus 2:1-3
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus.
About an hour south of Louisville, Kentucky, just outside of a little town called Hodgenville, Kentucky, there’s a little place called Knob Creek Farm. It’s where you’ll find the boyhood home of Abraham Lincoln.
But if you were to visit there, there wouldn’t be much to see--it’s that small. Really, it’s a little one-room log cabin that sits on a thirty acre farm where his parents, Tom and Nancy, raised corn and pumpkins.
But even though it’s so small and there’s not much to see, history happened there, for it’s where Lincoln spent six years of his early life, between the ages of two and eight. In fact, later he said, “My earliest recollection is of the Knob Creek Place.” It’s where, he said, he learned to talk and where he grew tall enough and strong enough to run errands like carrying water, and gathering wood for the fires. It’s also the place where he almost drowned!
And there were other things he remembered from there as well, like an old stone house on the way to Hodgen’s corn mill, and a clear, shallow stream where he liked to fish, and the surrounding hills where he picked berries. He remembered his infant brother, Thomas, Jr., who died and was buried there on that farm. He remembered slaves walking along the road, being taken to market. And he remembered his mother, before she died at the age of 34, and how she sat with him and read the Bible.
Who would have thought that, from such humble beginnings, would come one of our nation’s greatest leaders, the sixteenth president of the United States?
But he wasn’t the only one. John Adams, our second president, was born and lived in what was called, “a saltbox house,” in Quincy, Massachusetts, until he married at the age of twenty-nine. And Dwight D. Eisenhower, our thirty-fourth president, was born in a simple two-story house in Denison, Texas.
Humble places. Humble beginnings. So it was for a man named Moses.
I’ll read the words of Exodus chapter 2: “Now a man from the house of Levi went and took as his wife a Levite woman. The woman conceived and bore a son, and when she saw that he was a fine child, she hid him three months. When she could hide him no longer, she took for him a basket made of bulrushes and daubed it with bitumen and pitch. She put the child in it and placed it among the reeds by the river bank. And his sister stood at a distance to know what would be done to him” (Exodus 2:1-4).
Let’s step back for a moment to see what’s going on.
As you might remember from last week, a man named Joseph once ruled as Pharaoh’s Grand Vizier, his Prime Minister, his right-hand man, over all of Egypt. And during that time, his brothers and their families all came to live there. And as the years passed, as the Bible says in Exodus chapter 1, “The people of Israel were fruitful and increased greatly; they multiplied and grew exceedingly strong, so that the land was filled with them” (Exodus 1:7).
But the day came when Joseph died, and a new king, a new pharaoh, ruled over Egypt. And since he didn’t know Joseph, he said, “Behold, the people of Israel are too many and too mighty for us. Come let us deal shrewdly with them, lest they multiply, and, if war breaks out, they join our enemies and fight against us and escape from the land” (Exodus 1:10). So he set up rulers, taskmasters, over them, and for the next four hundred years, enslaved them.
But it didn’t work out as well as old pharaoh had planned. In fact, the more he oppressed them, the more they multiplied, until the Egyptians lived in fear of the people of Israel.
And not knowing what else to do to curb their “population explosion,” he decided to kill all the newborn baby boys. As he said, “When you serve as midwife to the Hebrew women and see them on the birthstool, if it is a son, you shall kill him, but if it is a daughter, she shall live.” And when even that didn’t work out as well as he had planned, he commanded all his people that, “Every son that is born to the Hebrews you shall cast into the Nile, but you shall let every daughter live” (Exodus 1:22).
Which takes us to the words of Exodus chapter 2. As I read a moment ago, “Now a man from the house of Levi went and took as his wife a Levite woman. The woman conceived and bore a son, and when she saw that he was a fine child, she hid him three months. When she could hide him no longer, she took for him a basket made of bulrushes and daubed it with bitumen and pitch. She put the child in it and placed it among the reeds by the river bank. And his sister stood at a distance to know what would be done to him” (Exodus 2:1-4).
If you think about it, it was an absolutely dangerous thing to do--wrap up a three-month-old baby, lay him in a tar-covered basket, then float him down the river--a river full of swift currents and crocodiles. He could have starved to death. He could have drowned. He could have been eaten. But as we know from the text, it was a risk his mother had to make. She had absolutely no other choice.
But also, if you think about it, it was an absolutely brilliant move, for as the story continues, guess who, at that very same time, was taking a bath down the river? Pharaoh’s daughter! And when she saw that basket floating down the river, what did she do? The Bible says she took pity on him and said, “This is one of the Hebrews’ children.” Then of all things, his sister, Miriam, brought his mother, Jochebed, to nurse him and care for him in Pharaoh’s house, right under Pharaoh’s nose! She called him, “Moses,” because she drew him out of the water.
He was the child of a slave, yet the son of a princess. He was born in a hut, yet lived in a palace. He inherited poverty, yet enjoyed unlimited riches. He was the leader of armies, and the keeper of flocks. He was the mightiest of warriors, yet the humblest of men. He was educated in the court, yet lived in the desert. He was schooled in all the wisdom of Egypt, yet had the faith of a child. He held the rod of a shepherd, and the power of the Infinite. He was a fugitive from Pharaoh, and an Ambassador from heaven. He was the giver of the Law, and the forerunner of grace. And though he died and was buried on Mount Nebo, he stood with Christ on the mount of transfiguration.
And so it was that, before he would stand before a burning bush, before he would perform miracles and defy Pharaoh and his court, before he would storm across the Red Sea, receive the Ten Commandments, and lead his people through the wilderness to the Promised Land, he was just a baby in a basket, floating down the river, a boy once condemned to die.
Humble beginnings. Does it remind you of anyone? It should.
Remember a man named Gideon? The Bible says that, for seven years, warriors called the Midianites and the Amalekites brutally oppressed them. They ate their food, and killed their sheep and oxen and donkeys. That’s when the people of Israel cried out for help to the Lord.
And the Lord heard their cry. So He sent His angel to a man named Gideon.
And what was Gideon doing when the Lord called him? He was hiding. He was beating wheat in a hole in the ground. And when the angel said, “The Lord is with you, O mighty man of valor,” he said, “How can I save Israel, for my clan is the weakest, and I am the least in my father’s house?”
Still God took him and used him for His glory.
And think of a boy named David. When God sent Samuel to Jesse’s house to anoint a new king, one son after another after another all stood before him. Yet every time, seven times(!), the Lord said, “Not this one...not this one...and not this one either.”
So whom did God choose to become king? The last one, the one all the others left standing in the field.
And in the book of John, when a crowd of five thousand sat to hear Jesus speak, evening came and they were hungry. Philip said, “It would take two hundred denarii, more than a half a year’s wages, to buy enough bread for each one to have a bite!” And when a boy brought his five loaves and two fish, even Andrew scoffed and said, “What are they among so many?”
Yet little was much in Jesus’ hands.
So it is for us. As one author put it, “Whatever you’re building right now in your career, in your ministry, or in your business, don’t despise the day of small, humble, seemingly insignificant beginnings. Instead, involve Jesus and allow His provision of favor, wisdom and power to multiply and grow the little things in your hands.”
And think--Abraham was old, Jacob was insecure, Leah was unattractive, Joseph was abused, Moses stuttered, Rahab was immoral, David had an affair, Elijah was suicidal, Jeremiah was depressed, Jonah was reluctant, Peter was impulsive, Martha worried, the Samaritan woman had several failed marriages, Zacchaeus was unpopular, Thomas had doubts, Paul had poor health, and Timothy was timid. Yet in spite of all their trials and troubles, God still took them and used them for His glory.
As the prophet Zechariah once wrote, “Don’t despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin” (Zechariah 4:10).
Now I know that you’ve heard of the Green Bay Packers, and the New England Patriots, and the Chicago Bears. And you’ve heard of the Rose Bowl, the Pro Bowl, and the Super Bowl. But have you ever heard of the All Joe team? Probably not!
It’s a team that was created back in 1992, to honor a man named Joe Phillips. You see, Joe played as a Kansas City defensive lineman for fourteen years, making it possible for other players to rack up, in one season alone, twenty-nine sacks. And that’s a pretty big deal!
But while you might have heard of all those who made the sacks, you’ve probably never heard of Joe Phillips.
That’s why, back in 1992, a sports writer for USA Today, Larry Weisman, got the idea to name players to the “All Joe team.” He said, “Though they don’t make a lot of tackles, perform heroics, or even look good, they do classic grunt work in football’s truly thankless positions.” Those who play in the Pro Bowl could never have gotten there without them.
We too, as Christians, need to work for someone else’s glory. We must decrease so that Christ may increase.
Before we leave this text, there’s one more thing to say. Just as Moses’ mother once placed him in a tar-covered basket, then slipped him down the river, there comes a time in the lives of mothers and fathers, when they have to put their children in a basket in the water. It’s a scary time. It’s an uncertain time. It’s a time to let go and to trust the plan of the Father.
But as we let go, God can draw them out from the water for His great purpose. And though He’s called us for a time to be their parents, they were His both first and last.
Dear Father, through something as simple as a basket, You saved the life of a boy and a nation, and through a cross, You accomplished our salvation. Grant that we may always find our hope and strength in You, for Jesus’ sake. Amen