By Way of the Wilderness Read online

  Lions of Judah, Book Five

  By Way of the Wilderness

  Gilbert Morris

  © 2005 by Gilbert Morris

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  www.bethanyhouse.com

  Ebook edition created 2012

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Cover design by Lookout Design Group, Inc.

  eISBN 978-1-4412-6240-0

  To Johnnie

  Exactly fifty-six years ago from the time I write this, you walked down the aisle of a small church and put your hand in mine.

  For all those wonderful years, you have never taken your hand nor your heart from me.

  Thank you from the depth of my heart for the joy you have brought to my life.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Part One: Egypt

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Part Two: Exodus

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Part Three: Day of Redemption

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Part Four: The Journey to Canaan

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Part Five: The Promised Land

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books by Gilbert Morris

  Back Cover

  Prologue

  A circle of flimsy huts made of reed poles and palm leaves huddled together near the banks of the Nile, surrounding a single campfire that serviced several families. Next to this circle of huts stood another just like it, and on and on as far as the eye could see. Such was the Hebrew slave camp in the land of Goshen, a makeshift city of impermanent dwellings, consisting of whatever materials could be dragged up from the river. The only furnishings inside each humble abode were woven rush mattresses lying on the bare earth. Passersby could easily look inside most of the homes through open doorways and slits between the palm leaves that let in air. Some of the huts were covered with a lightweight cotton material to reflect the intense heat of the Egyptian sun and to serve as a door covering that provided a modicum of privacy.

  Miriam, the daughter of Amram and Jochebed, had never known any bed throughout her twelve years of life except the mat she rested on. She slept deeply, comforted by the night sounds of the camp to which she was so accustomed—the shrill cries of crickets, the distant howls of wild dogs, the quiet voices of those in the shelters close by.

  But suddenly the regular sounds of the camp were broken by a piercing scream that came from some distance. Miriam sat straight up, her eyes wide open, and she caught her breath. “Soldiers!” she whispered. Rising at once, she left her family’s shelter and ran through the camp toward the screams, weaving through the endless circles of huts just like her own. Whole families were emerging from their dwellings, some listening and waiting, others running in fear. Miriam continued in her reckless race toward the screams, and as she drew closer, she could make out words. The silver moon was high in the sky, its ardent beams revealing all that lay below.

  Dodging behind a hut for cover and peering out, she saw two Egyptian guards manhandling a woman and laughing at her attempts to get free.

  “Silence, woman! We just want to dispose of your accursed boy baby!” one of the guards sneered. The burly guard held the baby high in the air with one hand, out of the mother’s reach, his blunt features smiling in devilish amusement as the woman managed to free one hand and clawed for his eyes. She only managed to rake her fingernails across the side of his face, but her action drew blood, and the guard cursed and shoved her onto the rocky ground. Before she could struggle to her knees, he grabbed his dagger from his belt and plunged it into the struggling baby.

  The mother’s cry rent the night as he tossed the dead infant onto the ground by her feet.

  “Next time have a girl. They’re safe enough. Come, Lanon,” he ordered the other guard, “let’s get away from this pathetic sight.”

  As the guards turned to leave, another woman emerged from her hut and cried out, “You can’t kill all the seeds of Israel!” she cried. “For every boy you kill, we’ll have ten more!”

  The burly guard turned toward her, his face twisting with rage, but his companion grabbed his arm. “Ignore her, Mako! These Hebrew women are crazy. Come on. We’ve got more work to do tonight.”

  Seeing the guards heading in the direction of her own home, Miriam flew over the ground ahead of them. When she reached her shelter, she found her mother awake, cradling Miriam’s baby brother in her arms, her face tense as she tried to calm the baby’s cries.

  “Is it the guards?” Jochebed choked in her distress.

  “Yes, Mother. They’re coming this way.”

  “Take the baby and run, Miriam. Hide him until they’re gone.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Miriam took the infant and continued her flight, darting through the slave camp until she reached the outer edges, where she found shelter in a grove of date palms. Her heart pounding, she sank onto the ground, gasping to catch her breath. She looked into the red face of the crying infant and began to soothe him. Running her hand over the silky black hair, she whispered, “Don’t cry, my little brother. I wont let them get you.”

  ****

  Amram was older than his wife, but he looked even older than his years due to the terribly oppressive labor at the brickyard. He was emaciated—his ribs protruding, his face a mere skull. The incessant labor in the blistering heat of the desert sun was designed to break the Hebrew men down.

  Jochebed remained silent until her husband had finished his meal, then said, “I have saved a little of the milk from the goat.”

  “Good,” Amram muttered. He took the cup and slowly sipped the sour milk. “That’s good,” he whispered. His eyes were closing in sleep, so Jochebed quickly spoke.

  “Husband, we must find a way to hide our son.”

  Amram opened his eyes and stared at his wife, his expression distraught. “You trouble me with this again, woman? What can we do? There’s no place. No way to hide him.”

  Jochebed was a strong woman. Her face was etched with the fatigue that all the Hebrews bore, but still there was a light of fierce determination in her eyes. “I have thought of a way, and I have prayed to the God of our fathers to preserve our son.”

  “Other mothers have prayed for that, but still their sons died. Some things we cannot change.”

  Jochebed had more faith than her husband, whose spirit was broken by the years of terrible labor. Though she always gave her husband appropriate respect, she knew she would have to take authority in this situ
ation.

  “I prayed to the God of our fathers, and in a dream He has shown me a way.”

  Amram’s eyes opened, and he looked at her doubtfully. “Dreams. We cannot run our lives by dreams.”

  “This was not any dream, my husband. It was from the God of Abraham, the God of our fathers,” Jochebed insisted. “He has told me that our son will live and that he will grow to be a strong man”

  “What is this dream of yours, wife?” He leaned forward and listened as Jochebed spoke quickly, and when she had finished, he spread his arms in a helpless gesture. “If this is a message from God, it must be so, but I don’t understand at all how such a thing can be.”

  “We may do it, then. You agree?” Jochebed leaned over to pick up her son from the reed basket that served as a cradle and gave the infant to her husband.

  Amram cuddled his son in his arms and ran his rough finger down the smooth cheek. “Yes, wife. We will trust God as you say.

  ****

  Miriam walked closely behind Jochebed, glancing anxiously in all directions. The guards had been out in strength today, and as the mother and daughter made their way toward the Nile, both of them were fearful.

  “Come along, Miriam,” Jochebed whispered, “we must hurry.”

  When they reached the river, Jochebed plunged in at once, disappearing into the tall reeds that covered the bank, the mud of the Nile squeezing between her toes. Miriam followed, her heart beating even faster. When her mother stopped and turned, she whispered, “Mother, are you sure this is what we should do?”

  “Yes. God has promised me,” Jochebed said. “Put the basket down in the water.”

  Miriam put the basket in the water and turned to watch her mother, who kissed the infant frenziedly; then with tears streaming down her face, she gently laid him in the basket. She turned to Miriam and said, “You must push him out into the river.”

  “I, Mother?”

  “Yes. I cannot bear it.” Without another word, Jochebed turned and moved back toward the bank.

  Miriam looked down at the face of her baby brother. Her heart broke as she took in his dark eyes, lustrous and clear, the jet-black hair and the smooth complexion. Leaning over, she kissed him again and again and then said brokenly, “I … I must do it, baby brother. God will be with you.” She put a fragment of blanket over the baby to shield his face from the sun and then waded through the weeds until she reached the broad expanse of the Nile. “God be with you, baby,” she whispered as she pushed the basket out into the current, where it began to move swiftly downstream.

  Miriam quickly made her way back into the shelter of the reeds along the bank and followed the basket. As time passed she caught glimpses of the tiny vessel as it floated downstream.

  The sun was dropping low in the sky when Miriam came to a bend in the river where a group of women had gathered. She could hear their voices and laughter and knew by their clothing they were upper-class Egyptian women. They wore rich fabrics of scarlet, green, blue, and purple, and she caught glimpses of the silver and gold ornaments around their necks and on their fingers and arms as they glinted in the sunlight.

  She realized the basket was passing right by these women, and she hurried to where she could watch them without being noticed.

  “Look, what is that?” one of the women asked as she spotted the floating basket.

  “It seems to be some kind of a boat, princess.”

  “Go fetch it to me.”

  Miriam recognized the woman who had first spoken as Princess Kali, daughter of Seti I, the pharaoh of Egypt. Pharaoh Seti had many daughters and only one son, but it was well known that Kali was his favorite child. Her face was long, and she had almond-shaped eyes. Her skin was the color of alabaster, and she had the straight nose, thin lips, and slender throat of the aristocracy. Miriam had seen her many times in ceremonial processions, but this was the first time she had been close enough to hear the princess speak.

  Princess Kali waited until her handmaids had brought her the basket. She rose and stepped forward. Leaning over, she removed the cover and exclaimed, “Why, its a baby!”

  “Yes, your highness, but not an Egyptian one”

  “No,” the princess said. “This is one of the Hebrew boy babies. No doubt the mother has tried to save his life by this means.” She reached out a slender finger, and the baby’s hand touched it and grabbed it. A smile turned the corners of Kali’s lips upward, and she said, “He is strong. He will be a strong man.”

  “But the guards will take him, will they not, princess?” one of her maids inquired.

  At that moment Miriam almost stopped breathing. Would the Egyptian princess turn the baby over to the guards to be killed? Then she was overjoyed to hear the princess say, “The Nile has given me this infant. He is my son. I will name him Moses.”

  “One taken from the water,” the maid said with a smile. “But will the great pharaoh allow it?”

  “He will not deny me a son.”

  Indeed, Kali had yearned for a son. She had had a brief marriage before being widowed, and no children had resulted. She had chosen not to marry again, so without a husband there was no way for her to have the son she so wanted. She did not hesitate to choose this baby for her own son, the child given to her by the great Nile. “He will be a prince in Egypt,” she said.

  “But he is too young to be weaned, princess.”

  At that instant Miriam knew why she had been brought to this place, and she stepped forward to make her presence known. The princess turned at the sound of her footsteps.

  Miriam bowed down, touched her face to the ground. “Your Highness,” she said, “I saw you take the baby from the water.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Miriam. My father is Amram.”

  “What do you want, child?”

  “The baby will need a nursing mother.”

  Kali nodded. “Why, that is true enough.”

  “Shall I bring one of the Hebrew mothers? I know one who has recently lost her baby. She would be glad to nurse your child.”

  “Yes,” Kali said. “That is necessary. Go at once and bring her here.”

  As Miriam turned and ran away, running with all her strength, she knew now with certainty that God was in the life of the baby that the princess had named Moses. Somehow the great God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob had given Moses back to his family, and she could not wait to tell her parents the news. “Mother will have her baby to nurse and to raise—at least for a while,” she murmured as she ran on toward the slave camp.

  Chapter 1

  Being the favorite daughter of the pharaoh, Princess Kali had several residences, one of which was an apartment in the harem of the pharaoh. There she could visit with her unmarried sisters, who their father kept in the harem for the purposes of making political alliances. He had done this with Kali herself before she was married, but when her husband died, he had welcomed her back, for she was the most intellectual of all his daughters—and the one who pleased him the most.

  Kali enjoyed the harem and the friendship with her sisters and with the pharaoh’s concubines. She had come to her apartment today to visit with her sisters. Her quarters were close to the main gate and were surrounded by flowers of all kinds, which she herself had planted. Bright murals decorated the walls with images of falcons, fish, and the residents of the harem itself.

  Kali had been speaking with two of her sisters when suddenly the cry was heard, “The pharaoh is coming!”

  All three girls quickly rose and faced the door. When the pharaoh entered, they bowed low, and the pharaoh smiled to greet them. “Well, girls, are you glad to see your father?”

  “It is always good to see you, Father,” Kali said.

  “Good. I must talk with you, Kali. You girls run along.”

  As soon as the sisters were gone, Kali asked, “Can I get you some refreshment?”

  “No, I think not.” Pharaoh Seti I took his seat on one of the curved benches padded with leather and leaned
back against the wall, closing his eyes. He was a small man, and people who met him for the first time were always shocked that the god of Egypt could be so insignificant in appearance. But however insignificant Seti might appear outwardly, he was a shrewd man. He had to be in order to rule over Egypt, with its powerful armies of well-trained soldiers, another army of slaves, and enemies on the borders who sought every opportunity to break through and steal the riches of Egypt.

  “Moses is returning,” Pharaoh said. He opened his unusual slate gray eyes and looked pointedly at Kali. “Have you had any messages?”

  “Yes, Father. He sent a runner to tell me he would be here soon.”

  Pharaoh closed his eyes but did not seem to relax. He opened them again and said, “He has proven himself to be an able soldier.”

  “Yes, I am very proud of him.”

  “You always were.” Seti sat up straighter and leaned forward. “The most difficult thing for me to understand is your attachment to this man. It has always been a mystery to me.”

  “I always wanted a son. My husband did not give me one, so the gods did.”

  “You think Moses is a gift of the gods?” Seti smiled suddenly. “The priests would not agree with you.”

  “No, they would not.”

  In fact, the priests had no use at all for Moses. They called him “The Stranger” and spread tales about him. They dared not attack him, for he was the adopted son of Pharaoh’s favorite daughter, but they hated and feared him. After all, the pharaoh had only one son. If that son were to die, it was not impossible that Moses, the adopted Hebrew son of Pharoah’s daughter, might be in line for the throne.

  “They are envious of him,” Kali said with a smile. “He excels them all in the arts and sciences of Egypt.”

  “Indeed he has. It might have been better for him if he had not been quite so accomplished. He would not be such a threat to them if he were stupid.”

  “It’s a little late for Moses to become stupid, Father.”