ANOTHER DAY WITH JESUS: TOUGH TIMES.

 

 

 

Miriam, the Prophetess

Miriam was amazing woman, but hers was a challenging life....

Miriam. the sister of Moses. Imagine if she could tell you her story. 

 

   We have  travelled in the desert for forty years. Last week I celebrated my one hundred and thirtieth birthday. As I reflect on my life, the Lord God’s provision and faithfulness overwhelm me. He is exalted. Praise be to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

 

 Our story began with my baby brother well over a hundred years ago. One warm evening, while my mother prepared our supper, he lay crying in his basket. My mother clutched him to her breast.

 

  “Shh, little one, the slave masters will hear you.”

 

  “Will they kill him, Mummy?”

 

 She wrapped her free arm around my shoulders and smiled.

 

“No, Miriam. The Lord our God will take care of us. Do you remember how the Lord helped the midwives at his birth? Tomorrow we will go to the river to cover his little basket with pitch and tar. You can watch him while I’m gathering straw.”

 

“But Mummy, how will we hide him?”

“We’ll float the tiny ark among the bulrushes. If you sit by the reeds, you will hear him when he cries. Bring him to me. You are a great help to me, Miriam. Take good care of your little brother.”

 

“But what shall I do if the slave drivers see me? Would they force me to work and snatch him from me?”

 

“Place your trust in the God of our fathers, Miriam.”

 

 I sat by the bank of the great river and watched. A lazy dragonfly buzzed among the reeds. The scorching sun beat down on my back, and I kneeled at the water’s edge to drink. As I arose, I heard women’s voices.

 

A beautiful young woman stood by the river. She removed her shawl and handed it to her attendant. But she hesitated.

 

“What is this basket? Lift it onto the shore.”

“Yes, your royal highness.”

 

  I trembled.

 

“That lady is Pharaoh’s daughter, the princess. Oh, little brother!

What should I do?”

 

I watched her unwrap his swaddling, and my brother whimpered.

 

“This is one of the Hebrew babies. He is so tiny and cute.”

 

I had to rescue him. If the princess took him away, we’d never see him again.

 

“Ma’am, may I fetch a Hebrew woman to nurse the baby for you?”

 

“Yes, go, my child.”

 

I ran as I could. “Mummy, the princess has snatched little brother from the river. Please hurry.”
Her eyes pierced mine and her face clouded, but she never spoke a word. We tore off to the river at breakneck speed.

 As we approached, Mummy slowed her steps, straightened her shawl, and bowed at the princess. “May I nurse this baby, your royal highness?”

 

“Indeed. I have named him Moses. When you’ve weaned him, bring him

to the palace. He shall be my son.”

 

 

And it was so. Moses lived in the palace and became an Egyptian prince, but not before our mother had taught him to love the Lord our God and respect our forefathers, such as Joseph, who had rescued his brothers from the great famine and established our flocks in Goshen.  

 

Moses became steeped in Egyptian culture. We would see him mixing with the slave drivers, and watching our people toil under the scorching Egyptian sun. The slave drivers forced our people to make bricks mixed with straw. The harder they worked, the more they expected of them. If they rested for a second, they would whip them. I remember the day two men returned to the Israelite camp. When they saw me, they bailed me against the wall.

 

“Your brother, Moses, killed an Egyptian. He’ll kill one of us next.” I shook with fear. Would they attack Moses?

 

 Soon after that, Moses disappeared, and we did not hear from him for forty years. I assumed he had died. My older brother, Aaron, had married, and he had two sons. One day, he came to me with the most surprising news.

 

“Miriam, our brother Moses, has returned to us. He has a Midianite wife, Zipporah, and a son, and he has told me the Lord our God has sent him to deliver us from the Egyptians and to lead us to the land he has promised to our forefathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.”

 

“Moses? Can he rescue us from the Egyptians? They force our men to build their houses and forts and whip us. He was always a taciturn man. How will he ever approach Pharaoh?”

 

“I will go with him into Pharaoh’s court and speak for him. Since he is humble, God will speak through me.”

At first, I doubted if Moses had heard God’s voice. Pharaoh showed no regard for the Lord, and he forced our men to forage for straw and make bricks in record time.

 

  Aaron cast his staff before Pharaoh, and it became a snake. Pharaoh called his magicians to do likewise. Nine plagues struck the Egyptians, each more terrifying than the last. The people grumbled against Moses, but I believed him. God had given him three signs, and I had witnessed God’s protection in Goshen. We did not see the hail, which devastated the Egyptians while our crops continued to flourish.

 

   But Pharaoh wouldn’t relent, and God sent a final plague, the toughest test of all. I cleaned the house of every trace of leaven, as God commanded Moses, and the menfolk prepared a spotless young lamb, killed it, and painted the doorposts and the lintel with the blood. When the angel saw it, God promised the angel would pass over us and spare the firstborn of the household. I was terrified. God is holy. I begged Aaron to follow God’s instructions to the letter.

 

 At midnight, a loud wailing and shouting pierced the air and long before the sun rose, a loud bang on our door summoned Aaron from his bed. A gang of angry officials from Pharaoh’s court burst in, demanding Aaron and Moses appear before Pharaoh.

 

The Israelites had become a stench to the locals. Every firstborn son in the Egyptian homes had died, and they begged us to leave.

 

  When we asked them for provisions for the journey and they shoved them into our arms, saying,

 

“Since you have become a plague on us, take it and go!”

 

After we gathered our families, flocks, and household possessions in haste, we set out along the desert road. The Lord was watching over us. A cloud led us by day and a fire by night, an awe-inspiring sight. God was traveling with us just as he had led Abraham when he left his father’s house. I lifted my face to the heavens and praised my God. Despite our hasty departure, Moses had retrieved Joseph’s bones from his tomb according to his request, a sign we would enter the Promised Land. He believed God would deliver us from Egypt.

 

 Moses led us to Migdol near the Red Sea, and Pharaoh thought we were lost in the desert. He thundered his army toward us, hemming us in, his army behind us and the sea ahead of us. What had Moses done? Just when I thought God had delivered us, our escape route vanished. Dying in Egypt was preferable to being slaughtered like wild animals.

 

But Moses did not falter.

 

  “Stand firm. God will deliver us, and the Egyptians will become distant memory. The Lord will fight for you. Keep your cool.” 

 

 

  He led us to the seashore and raised his staff and arm over the sea. His cloak billowed, flapping in the strong east wind which gathered pace about the camp. A shadow grabbed my attention, confusing me. Then I realized. The mighty cloud was shifting to our rear, protecting us from Pharaoh’s savage army. Despite the hour, the entire camp glowed with magnificent light. As I turned my head and stared through the crowd, the sea divided, and Moses beckoned us to follow him. We descended deep into the seabed, stunned to see the waters rising to our left and right like mighty cliffs. I glanced down, and the ground was firm and dry beneath my feet.

 

 I heard the chariots rumbling, shouting, and wild screams, and felt the people behind me urging us forward.

 

“The Egyptians are pursuing us into the sea. We’ll all drown if these waters collapse. Hurry, hurry!”

 

   I spied the distant shore. Moses and Aaron stood on the sands, smiling, beckoning us to gather around them. We surged forward. As the last Israelite stepped onto the beach, the sun burst over the horizon. Moses raised his arm over the sea, and as we watched in trepidation, the Egyptians chariots bore down on us through the dark sea tunnel, their weapons raised in battle. My heart skipped a beat. Would they plow through our midst, crushing women and children? But before I knew it, the waters swamped the army, and they vanished, drowned in the mighty ocean. Gone!

 

 Moses had done it. It was miraculous. We proclaimed him our hero! But he shook his head in denial of our praise.

 

“Don’t thank me. It is the Lord our God who has delivered us. He has hurled the horses and their riders into the sea.”

 

We recalled the stories of our fathers, of God’s promises to our nation. A great song of praise arose, and we sang to the Lord our God, Moses leading the singing.

 

“Our God is a warrior, our strength, and our salvation. Your right hand is majestic and powerful. Our enemy boasted and scourged us, but you unleashed your anger, and with your breath, you have drowned our oppressors in the sea. Your love will lead us and guide us to the promised land, and we worship you.”

 

The Lord, our mighty God, had redeemed us. My heart overflowed with joy. Seizing a tambourine, I danced around the camp and sang, causing the women to call out to each other.

 

“See Miriam, the prophetess! Come! Let us clasp hands and sing praises to our God!”

 

 We wove our path through the camp, swaying and singing in sheer joy, and our voices rippled across the sands.

 

“Sing to the Lord, for he is highly exalted. The horse and his rider he has hurled into the sea.”

 

   Moses’ song circled in my mind, and I repeated it over and over while the entire camp rejoiced with us. Praise be to our God. He is our salvation and redeemer.

 

    Our journey led us into the Shur desert. We searched for an oasis and at last, on the third day, we arrived in Marah. I kneeled to quench my dry mouth, but a rancid taste and odor filled my mouth and nostrils and I spat out the water. The people grumbled in disgust.

 

“Moses? What are we to drink?”

 

  His face crumpled, but he raised his face to the heavens to pray. Soon, he picked up a stick and threw it into the pool. The water sweetened, and we filled our vessels. Our God is abundant and merciful. A few days later, when we arrived in Elim, we discovered twelve springs and seventy palm trees. God’s provision was gracious and plentiful.

   If we obeyed his commands, he promised to protect us from the Egyptian diseases, but our immediate concern was sustenance. We remembered the lush pastures of Goshen and we yearned for fresh grain and meat. The people grumbled to Moses again, begging him for manna. Why didn’t they trust in the Lord our God? He had destroyed our enemies and supplied abundant water. Wouldn’t he give us food?

 

 My heart ached for my younger brother. They didn’t appreciate his gentle faith and commitment to our God, who had not forsaken us. Moses and Aaron gathered the congregation, promising God would provide, and to affirm it, the Lord’s glory shone through the cloudy pillar. I gasped at its beauty, and, despite my empty stomach, I slept. Tomorrow, God would give us food.

 

  As I awoke and walked from my tent, I took a basket and gathered the sweet bread which covered the ground. On another occasion, they begged Moses for meat. God sent quails in from the sea, and they lay a meter thick over the ground. We collected until we couldn’t carry any more and roasted them over the fire. But God’s wrath burned against us, and many people died. My faith grew as I marveled at his care and his holiness, and I praised the God of my fathers with deep reverence and fear.

 

   On another occasion, the Amalekites attacked us in Rephidim. Moses enlisted a young man, Joshua, to fight our enemies, but the victory belonged to the Lord. Although Moses, at over eighty, was a vigorous man, he grew tired. When his arms ached and sagged, the Amalekites were winning, but Aaron and Hur held his hands aloft and our troops gained strength and eventual victory.

 

Moses erected an altar and named it ‘The Lord is my Banner.’ We worshipped the Lord for he is good, and his mercy extends to all generations.

 

 I could tell you about several occasions when the Lord tested my faith, but one remains supreme, to my shame.

 

  The women had named me a prophetess. I had known the Lord our God and led them in worship. As the sister of our leader, I felt my position in the community was significant and I welcomed those opportunities to teach the younger women the truth. Aaron supported my ministry, and the people recognized his authority as the high priest. We were a strong team. When Moses married a Cushite, we felt his heart had run away with his head. After all, she was tall and slender. Her dark skin and smooth lithesome figure would lure any man. I told him he should set a better example to the congregation. Had he forgotten his responsibilities to the nation?

 

 He didn’t answer my criticisms, and I complained to Aaron. He promised to speak to him.

Suddenly, the Lord descended, engulfed by a cloud pillar. I heard him summoning me to the Tent of Meeting, and when I hastened to the entrance, Moses and Aaron were already there. They stepped forward, and I heard the voice of the Lord. I trembled because I knew my pride had blinded my judgement. God hastened to tell us how Moses was superior to me or Aaron. Our younger brother had never boasted about his relationship with God, and I didn’t realize he had seen God’s form and spoken with him face to face. Who was I to speak against God’s friend?

The cloud lifted, and I covered my face with my hands in shame. But they felt weird, or rather I couldn’t feel them or my face. Panicking, I lifted my cloak to examine my feet. They were covered with white spots, as were my hands. I was leprous, and I was not fit to remain in the camp. All my friends and family would scorn me and question me, saying,

 

“Has Miriam, the great prophetess, sinned against the Lord our God?”

 

Aaron saw my distress. I knew he felt partly responsible, but the blame was mine. He begged Moses to forgive us and plead with God to inhibit the spread of the disease.

 

Moses prayed. “O God, please heal her.”

 

God said, “If her father shamed her, she would suffer disgrace for a week. You must confine her outside the camp for seven days.”

 

It was a long sorrowful week in which I contemplated my shame and pride. Alone and sorrowful, I wept, prayed, and sought the Lord’s forgiveness. As our leader, Moses had honored the Lord and led us with wisdom and grace. He was not only my brother, but my spiritual adviser. It was not my place to criticize him.

   But what touched me was the support I received from my people. Rather than scorn me, they waited with me. We did not continue our journey until I returned to the camp.

 

  Now I am old, and soon I will depart this life. I will not see the Promised Land, but I am confident the nation of Israel will prosper. We are a chosen people, and God has promised Abraham we will become many more than the sands on the seashore. We have failed the Lord, but he has remained faithful. Glory be to his mighty name.

 

    In Numbers 20, we read about Miriam’s death. She died in the Zin desert where they buried her. Hers was a life filled with toil, tough travel, and hardship. Yet, she learned obedience and trust in God. Her devotion is a testimony to her faith, which the entire Israelite nation admired.

 

     While Moses is the main protagonist in the Pentateuch, I have found it interesting to imagine his life through a woman’s eyes and to contemplate the impact he may have made on his older sister. Perhaps I have guessed at her reactions. You may disagree with my interpretation, but my prayer is you will dig beneath the story and empathize with one Israelite woman’s life and experience. Regardless of the era, women worldwide deal with fear and sin while they learn to trust God. As a prominent woman of her era, Miriam’s long and eventful life reflects the highs and lows of every woman’s journey from fear to faith, from childhood to the grave.

 

© Janet Crawshaw 2023