When God Confronts Your Nile
Read: Exodus 7
I used to read Exodus 7 like it was just a showdown between Moses and Pharaoh. Staff turns into a serpent, the Nile turns to blood, Pharaoh refuses to budge... end of story.
But the older I get, the more I realize this chapter isn’t mainly about Pharaoh. It’s really about the things we trust.
The Nile wasn’t just water to Egypt--it was everything. Their crops depended on it. Their livestock survived because of it. Their economy flowed through it. They sang hymns to it. It was stability you could see and touch... then God struck it. What had always flowed suddenly failed. What felt life-giving became undrinkable. And Egypt had to face a terrifying question: "if the Nile isn’t ultimate, then what is?"
I used to read Exodus 7 like it was just a showdown between Moses and Pharaoh. Staff turns into a serpent, the Nile turns to blood, Pharaoh refuses to budge... end of story.
But the older I get, the more I realize this chapter isn’t mainly about Pharaoh. It’s really about the things we trust.
The Nile wasn’t just water to Egypt--it was everything. Their crops depended on it. Their livestock survived because of it. Their economy flowed through it. They sang hymns to it. It was stability you could see and touch... then God struck it. What had always flowed suddenly failed. What felt life-giving became undrinkable. And Egypt had to face a terrifying question: "if the Nile isn’t ultimate, then what is?"
What are modern “Niles” people depend on?
I didn’t understand that question deeply until I had my own “Nile” touched. There was a season when something I leaned heavily on started to crack. It wasn’t sinful, it wasn’t evil, it was just steady--it was predictable: it was my finances. My finances made me feel secure, I didn’t think I would worship it. I would have told you God was my source. But when that thing started shaking, I did too. That’s when you find out what you’re really trusting.
Pharaoh’s words echo louder to me now than they used to: “Who is the Lord that I should obey His voice?” (Exodus 5:2). We read that and think of arrogance. But sometimes that question shows up in quieter ways. Who is the Lord over my career? My health? My reputation? My plans? My finances?
Pharaoh’s words echo louder to me now than they used to: “Who is the Lord that I should obey His voice?” (Exodus 5:2). We read that and think of arrogance. But sometimes that question shows up in quieter ways. Who is the Lord over my career? My health? My reputation? My plans? My finances?
Has God ever disrupted something you relied on? How did it affect your faith?
Exodus says again and again that Pharaoh’s heart was hardened. He watched miracles and still resisted; that’s sobering. You can see God move and still cling to control. Hebrews 3:15 warns, “Today, if you hear His voice, do not harden your hearts.” A hard heart doesn’t always look loud. Sometimes it looks like digging along the riverbank for a little clean water instead of surrendering to the God who struck it.
The Nile turning to blood was judgment, yes. Egypt had shed Hebrew blood and justice was being declared. But the story also points forward: at the cross, blood becomes something else. Romans 3:25 says God presented Christ as a propitiation by His blood. Justice is satisfied, but mercy is extended. In Egypt, blood meant consequences. At Calvary, blood meant redemption.
When my “river” stopped flowing, I wanted restoration more than revelation. I wanted God to fix what was disrupted. Instead, He was exposing what I leaned on more than I realized. Looking back, that disruption was mercy. It forced me to re-anchor my trust. It reminded me that anything I depend on more than the Lord can be touched.
The Nile turning to blood was judgment, yes. Egypt had shed Hebrew blood and justice was being declared. But the story also points forward: at the cross, blood becomes something else. Romans 3:25 says God presented Christ as a propitiation by His blood. Justice is satisfied, but mercy is extended. In Egypt, blood meant consequences. At Calvary, blood meant redemption.
When my “river” stopped flowing, I wanted restoration more than revelation. I wanted God to fix what was disrupted. Instead, He was exposing what I leaned on more than I realized. Looking back, that disruption was mercy. It forced me to re-anchor my trust. It reminded me that anything I depend on more than the Lord can be touched.
Could a current trial in your life be an invitation to trust God more deeply?
We all have a Nile. Something that feels constant. Something that whispers, If this stays steady, I’ll be okay. Until it isn’t. Exodus 7 isn’t ancient history, it’s a mirror. God still dismantles false security, not to crush us, but to make Himself known. “The Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord,” He says (Exodus 7:5). That’s not just a warning to Pharaoh. It’s an invitation to us to turn towards the Lord.
When the river stops flowing, you get a choice: Harden your heart, or open your hands. One leads to deeper resistance, the other leads to deeper trust. If God has touched your Nile lately, maybe it isn’t punishment, maybe it’s grace--maybe He’s reminding you that the river was never your savior, He is.
When the river stops flowing, you get a choice: Harden your heart, or open your hands. One leads to deeper resistance, the other leads to deeper trust. If God has touched your Nile lately, maybe it isn’t punishment, maybe it’s grace--maybe He’s reminding you that the river was never your savior, He is.
Take a moment to reflect on these questions:
Where is my heart hard?
Where is my heart hard?
What is my Nile?
How is God getting my attention?
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