Exodus 4:11-19

Moses stood before the Lord with a call on his life and a knot in his stomach. In Exodus 4, he isn’t the bold leader we often picture; he is a hesitant man overwhelmed by his own weakness. “But, behold, they will not believe me, nor hearken unto my voice,” he says in verse 1. He isn’t doubting that God is real; he is doubting that anyone will believe what God is doing in his life. That’s a very human fear. We worry about what people will say, how they will react, whether they will accept us or reject us. Like Moses, we can become more aware of our insecurities than of God’s sufficiency. The moment we become impressed with our weakness is the moment we forget the power of our God.

God’s response is not to give Moses a motivational speech, but to ask a simple, probing question: “What is that in thine hand?” (v.2). It was just a rod—a shepherd’s staff, something Moses had used every day for forty years. Ordinary. Simple. Familiar. Moses saw a stick; God saw a tool for His glory. God often begins His work in our lives not by giving us something new, but by drawing our attention to what He has already placed in our hands. Our time, our testimony, our talents, our resources, even our voice—these may seem small and ordinary to us, but in the hands of God they become powerful instruments for His purposes.

When God told Moses to cast the rod on the ground and it became a serpent, Moses ran from it. That’s exactly how we often respond when God begins to move us out of our comfort zone. In Egypt, the serpent was a symbol of royal power, worn on Pharaoh’s crown as a sign of divine authority. God was showing Moses that the very symbol of Egypt’s strength was under His control. Then He told Moses to do something that made no sense—“Take it by the tail” (v.4). Grabbing a snake by the tail is the last thing any sensible person would do. But faith is not built on human logic; it rests on God’s Word. When Moses obeyed, the serpent became a rod again in his hand. God was teaching Moses to face his fears, not in his own courage, but in confidence that God is greater than anything he feared in Egypt.

The second sign was even more personal. God told Moses to put his hand into his bosom, and when he pulled it out, it was “leprous as snow” (v.6). In Scripture, the bosom is often associated with the heart—the inner life, the true self. Leprosy in the Bible is a powerful picture of sin: corrupting, separating, defiling. In that moment, God exposed something deeper than Moses’ lack of eloquence; He exposed the condition of his heart. The real problem was not Egypt, Pharaoh, or the people’s reaction—it was Moses himself. Yet in mercy, God told him to put his hand in again, and this time it came out clean (v.7). The same God who reveals our corruption is the God who can cleanse and restore. That is a picture of redemption. We are sinners by nature, but the blood of Jesus Christ can make us “white as snow.”

God, in His patience, even provided multiple signs, knowing that people do not always respond to truth the first time they hear it. If they would not believe the voice of the first sign, they might believe the voice of the second (v.8), and if not, Moses would take water from the Nile and pour it on the dry land, and it would become blood (v.9). The Nile was Egypt’s lifeline—a symbol of life and prosperity. By turning water to blood, God would show His absolute authority over the very source of their security and hint at coming judgment. God’s message always comes in stages: grace first, then accountability; opportunity, then judgment. His longsuffering is not weakness; it is mercy, giving sinners space to repent.

Even after all this, Moses retreats back into his insecurity: “O my Lord, I am not eloquent… I am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue” (v.10). God answers with a truth that strips away every excuse: “Who hath made man’s mouth? or who maketh the dumb, or deaf, or the seeing, or the blind? have not I the Lord?” (v.11). God is not saying He delights in suffering; He is reminding Moses that He is the Creator and that our limitations do not limit Him. Nothing about our weakness surprises God. He knew Moses’ tongue before He called him. He knows our fears, inabilities, and flaws—and He calls us anyway. “Now therefore go, and I will be with thy mouth, and teach thee what thou shalt say” (v.12). God doesn’t promise to erase every weakness, but He promises His presence, His words, and His help.

Tragically, Moses moves from questioning to resistance: “O my Lord, send, I pray thee, by the hand of him whom thou wilt send” (v.13). Respectful words, disobedient heart. It’s his way of saying, “Lord, send someone else.” God’s patience gives way to anger—not sinful anger, but holy displeasure at stubborn unbelief. Yet even in His anger, God shows mercy. He provides Aaron as a spokesman, arranges a leadership partnership, and still insists that Moses must go. Moses will now stand more in the background, with Aaron as the public voice. God is willing to work with reluctant servants, but sometimes their reluctance changes how He uses them.

Through it all, God is quietly orchestrating every detail: calling Moses, preparing Aaron, softening Jethro’s heart, removing those who once sought Moses’ life, and placing the “rod of God” in Moses’ hand as a visible reminder of His power and presence. The stick itself never changed; what changed was Moses’ heart. What was once “a rod” becomes “the rod of God” because Moses now sees it the way God sees it. That is often how God works in us. He doesn’t always change our circumstances immediately—but He changes how we see them. People, ministries, opportunities, and resources are no longer “just” what they were; they become tools in the hands of a sovereign God.

This passage also reveals the heart of God toward His people and His world. He tells Moses to say to Pharaoh, “Israel is my son, even my firstborn” (v.22). Pharaoh thought he owned Israel; God declares, “They belong to Me.” Deliverance is not a cold theological concept—it is a Father rescuing His child. God will display His power in Pharaoh, not because He delights in hardening hearts, but because Pharaoh repeatedly hardens his own. God simply confirms him in the rebellion he has chosen, using even that stubbornness to make His name known in all the earth. He is righteous in mercy and righteous in judgment; no one is treated unfairly.

By the end of chapter 4, Moses has moved from arguing to going. Aaron has joined him. The elders have heard the message and seen the signs. And we read this simple, beautiful summary: “And the people believed… and when they heard that the Lord had visited the children of Israel, and that he had looked upon their affliction, then they bowed their heads and worshipped” (v.31). That is where all of this leads—not to the elevation of Moses, not to the fascination with miracles, but to a believing, worshipping people who realize that God has seen their pain and come down to deliver them.

The same God still works today. He calls hesitant people, exposes fearful hearts, takes ordinary tools, and uses them for extraordinary purposes. He confronts our excuses, reveals our sin, cleanses our hearts, and then places something in our hand and says, “Go.” Our part is not to be impressive; it is to be obedient. Excuses do not eliminate responsibility. Like Moses, we may not feel ready. But God is not asking us to trust in ourselves—He is asking us to trust in Him.