JESUS IN EXODUS
Exodus opens with the groan of a people crushed beneath the weight of bondage, yet even in those first sighs of suffering, the fragrance of Christ is already in the air. For the God who hears the cries of Israel is the same God who would one day walk among us, moved with compassion for the multitudes weary and scattered like sheep without a shepherd.
The burning bush—the flame that burned but did not consume—whispers of the eternal Son, blazing with divine glory yet stooping in humility to call Moses by name (Exodus 3). When God declares, “I AM WHO I AM,” we hear the voice of the One who would later say, “Before Abraham was, I AM” (John 8:58), revealing Himself as the Living God who steps into human history.
As the story unfolds, the plagues crash against Egypt like waves of judgment, but woven through the darkness is the shining thread of redemption. Jesus stands behind the Passover, the lamb without blemish whose blood shields the guilty from wrath (Exodus 12:13).
The lintels painted red are a doorway into the Gospel, pointing forward to the cross where the true Passover Lamb would bleed, not so one night of judgment might pass over, but so the eternal judgment might be forever removed. In that night of deliverance—the hurried meal, the roasted lamb, the unleavened bread—every detail becomes a prophecy wrapped in simplicity, announcing the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.
Then comes the journey through the sea. With walls of water rising like crystal towers, Israel walks the path carved by the hand of the Lord, and in that moment we behold Christ as the Captain of our salvation. He is the One who breaks the chains of Pharaoh, who leads His people through the waters, who drowns the captor and brings His children to the other side with a song on their lips.
In the baptism of the Red Sea, the shadow is unmistakable—death behind, life ahead, bondage buried, freedom born. The God who saves with an outstretched arm is the same Christ who stretches His arms on the cross, making a way where none could be found.
In the wilderness, Jesus shines again like manna on the morning ground—bread from heaven, given freely to sustain weary travelers (Exodus 16:4). He is the water from the rock, struck once, pouring out life for a thirsty people (Exodus 17:6). Paul does not hesitate to pull back the veil and say, “That Rock was Christ” (1 Corinthians 10:4).
In every provision, every mercy, every stream flowing across the desert sands, we see the kindness of the Savior who knows the frailty of His people and meets them with grace upon grace. The tabernacle, too—golden, fragrant, glowing with holy light—is a portrait of Jesus dwelling among us, full of glory and truth.
And so Exodus, though rugged and wandering, is a Gospel in motion. Jesus is the burning bush that calls us, the Lamb that covers us, the Captain who delivers us, the Bread that sustains us, the Rock that refreshes us, the Tabernacle that draws us near.
Every step of Israel’s journey—from the mud pits of Egypt to the foot of Sinai—whispers His name. The book that begins with bondage ends with glory filling the tent, for wherever Christ is revealed, the story always ends in glory.
Exodus does not merely recount the deliverance of a nation; it reveals the Redeemer who leads us out of sin, through the waters, across the wilderness, and into the presence of the living God.
BDD
