Moses: The Boy Who Floated to Freedom

Aaron Abel Abigail Abihail Abner Abraham Abram Adam Ahinoam Amos Andrew Anna Asa Athaliah Azubah Barak Barnabas Bartholomew Bathsheba Benjamin Berenice Bilhah Cain Caleb Chloe Claudia Dan Daniel David Deborah Delilah Dinah Drusilla Eleazar Eli Elijah Elisabeth Elisha Enoch Ephraim Esau Esther Eve Ezekiel Gabriel Gideon Hannah Hezekiah Hosea Isaac Isaiah Jacob Jael James Japheth Jason Jedidah Jemimah Jeremiah Jesse Jesus Jethro Joanna Joel John Jonah Jonathan Joseph Joshua Judith Keturah Leah Levi Luke Lydia Magdalene Mahalath Malachi Mara Mark Martha Mary Matthew Matthias Meshach Micah Michael Michal Miriam Mordecai Moses Naomi Nathan Nathanael Noah Orpah Paul Peter Philip Priscilla Rachel Rebecca Rueben Ruth Salome Samson Samuel Sarah Saul Seth Shem Silas Simeon Simon Solomon Stephen Tabitha Tamar Thomas Timothy Uriah Zachariah Zebedee Zechariah Zedekiah Zephaniah Zilpah Zipporah

Long ago, in the land of Egypt, a new Pharaoh sat on the throne. He didn’t remember the good things that Joseph had done for Egypt many years before. All he saw were the people of Israel — growing stronger, working hard, and becoming too many to count.

“This is dangerous,” Pharaoh said. “If they grow too strong, they might turn against us.” So he made them slaves and forced them to build cities and temples under the burning sun. But even then, the Israelites kept growing.

Pharaoh grew angry. He gave a cruel command: “Every baby boy born to the Israelites must be thrown into the river!” It was a terrible time to have a son.

In a small house near the Nile River, a woman named Jochebed gave birth to a baby boy. He had soft brown eyes and a cry that made her heart ache with love and fear.

“He’s beautiful,” she whispered. “We’ll call him Moses.”

For three months, she hid him from Pharaoh’s soldiers. But soon he grew too big and too loud to hide. So, with trembling hands, Jochebed made a plan. She wove a small basket from reeds and coated it with tar so it would float. Then she kissed her baby one last time and placed him gently inside.

“God, please keep him safe,” she whispered, tears falling into the water.

She set the basket among the tall river reeds and sent Moses’ sister, Miriam, to watch from a distance.

The Nile glimmered in the morning sun as Pharaoh’s daughter came down to bathe. Her servants were chatting when she saw something floating in the water.

“What’s that?” she asked. They pulled out the basket and opened it — and there was baby Moses, crying softly.

“Oh, the poor child!” she said, her heart melting. “He must be one of the Hebrew babies.”

Just then, Miriam bravely stepped forward. “Shall I find someone to take care of the baby for you?” she asked.

“Yes,” said the princess. “Find a nurse.”

So Miriam ran home and brought her mother. And just like that, Jochebed was able to hold her son again — not in hiding this time, but in safety.

When Moses grew older, the princess adopted him as her own son. She named him Moses, saying, “I drew him out of the water.”

Moses grew up in Pharaoh’s palace, surrounded by gold, fine clothes, and the best teachers in Egypt. But deep in his heart, he never forgot his true people — the Israelites, still working as slaves.

One day, when Moses was a young man, he saw an Egyptian guard beating an Israelite slave. Anger burned inside him, and he rushed forward to stop it. In the struggle, the guard was killed.

Fear struck Moses like lightning. If Pharaoh found out, he’d be punished — or worse. So Moses ran. He fled across the desert, far from Egypt, until he came to the land of Midian, where he helped some shepherd girls at a well. One of them, Zipporah, became his wife. Moses began a quiet life, tending sheep under the wide desert sky.

Years passed. The noise of Egypt felt far away. Moses must have wondered if God had forgotten him.

One day, while Moses was leading his sheep near a mountain, he saw something strange — a bush on fire. Flames danced across its branches, but the bush didn’t burn up. The fire just kept glowing brighter.

Moses blinked and stepped closer. “That’s odd,” he murmured. “Why doesn’t it burn?”

Then he heard a voice — strong and kind, like thunder and wind together.

“Moses! Moses!”

Moses froze. “Here I am!” he said.

“Do not come closer,” said the voice. “Take off your sandals. The ground you are standing on is holy.”

Moses obeyed, heart pounding.

“I am the God of your ancestors — the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,” the voice said. “I have seen the suffering of My people in Egypt. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring them out of slavery.”

Moses’ mouth dropped open. “Me? But… who am I to do that? I can’t even speak well!”

“I will be with you,” said God. “Tell them that I AM has sent you.”

Moses looked at the glowing bush. His fear began to melt into something new — courage. If the God who made fire and stars was with him, then maybe even Pharaoh wasn’t too big to face.

When the voice faded and the flames dimmed, Moses looked up at the sky. His heart was full. He knew his life was about to change forever.

Moses returned home, kissed his wife and family goodbye, and began the long journey back to Egypt. He still didn’t know exactly how it would happen, or how Pharaoh would react. But he knew one thing for sure — God had chosen him for a reason.

He would no longer be the boy hidden in a basket, or the man running away. He would be the leader who helped set God’s people free.

God never forgets His people. Even when years pass and things seem hopeless, He’s always working behind the scenes. He can use anyone. Even a baby floating in a river can grow up to lead a nation.

From basket to burning bush, Moses’ life reminds us that no one is too small or too scared for God to use. Because when you say, “Here I am,” God can turn even your ordinary days into an extraordinary story.