The Baby in the River-Basket

Once there was a king who was afraid.

That sounds strange, doesn't it? A king on a high throne, with soldiers and chariots and gold. Afraid. But he was. Long before, in Joseph's day, Jacob's whole family had come down to Egypt, and Egypt had welcomed them. But four hundred years had passed, and now a new king sat on the throne, a king who did not know Joseph or all the good he had done. This king looked out at God's people, the family of Israel, and he saw how many they were, and how strong they were growing, and his heart filled up with fear.

So the frightened king did a terrible thing. First he made God's people slaves, and their days grew heavy with bricks and mud. And when they kept on growing anyway, he made a crueler rule still. Every baby boy born to God's people was to be thrown into the great river Nile.

The river that gave the land its water and its fish was meant to be a river of sorrow. Mothers held their little ones close and trembled.

But God had not forgotten his people. Not for one moment. He heard every cry and counted every tear. His heart was bent low over that frightened land, the way a father leans over a crib in the dark.

In one little house, a baby boy was born. His mother looked at his face and loved him so. For three months she hid him, soft and warm and safe. But babies grow, and babies cry, and she knew she could not hide him forever.

So she did something brave.

She took a basket and made it strong. She painted it with tar so the water could not creep in. She laid her baby inside, on a small soft blanket. And she carried the basket down to the river. The very river meant to take him. She set it gently among the tall green reeds, where the water moved slow and still.

Then she stepped back. And his big sister stayed near, watching from the long grass, to see what would happen.

He was such a small baby in such a small basket, too small to keep himself safe, too small to do anything at all but breathe, and sleep, and wait.

And the God who flung the stars into the sky was watching that little basket in the reeds. The river the king had filled with sorrow was about to carry a rescue.

For who came walking down to the water? The king's own daughter, the princess. She saw the basket bobbing among the reeds and sent her servant to lift it out. She opened the lid, and there was the baby, crying. And something in her melted. "This is one of the Hebrew children," she said softly. And she loved him.

She gave him a name. Moses. And she kept him safe, right inside the palace, right under her father's nose.

God guarded one helpless baby in the reeds, because that baby was the beginning of a rescue for a whole, whole family.

And one day, far down the years, another king would grow afraid, and another little boy, the very Son of God, would be hunted while he was small and could not protect himself. God would guard him too, and carry him to safety. Because that small hunted child had come to rescue not one family, but every child God has ever loved.

The same heart, leaning over the crib in the dark.

For now, though, the baby from the river slept in a palace, and he would wake up a prince. God, who had lifted him out of the water, had bigger plans for him than any palace.