This sermon contrasts the despair of praying to an unknown god with the hope of knowing Yahweh by name. When Moses asks, “What is his name?” God reveals himself as “I Am Who I Am." He is existence itself — absolute personality, freedom, and eternality. Yet this revelation alone could remain distant and even terrifying. The good news is that Yahweh also names himself as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob — a covenantal God who binds himself to his people in love and faithfulness. He is not simply God in the abstract but God-for-us, inviting all who believe to share in the promises made to Abraham. This covenant commitment finds its deepest fulfillment in the incarnation: Yahweh takes on flesh in Jesus, “Yahweh saves.” In Christ, the eternal “I Am” becomes vulnerable, even killable, for our sake. The New Testament bears witness that Jesus is Yahweh, doing the works and receiving the honors due only to God. Thus the call is clear: confess Jesus as Lord, believe in his resurrection, and find deliverance. Unlike a vague prayer “to every god,” prayer to Jesus rests on the sure name of the God who is, who was, and who is to come — the God who saves.

The gospel of Jesus Christ is not primarily about how we are freed from sin and forgiven. It’s primarily about how God made a way to dwell with us forever. The good news doesn’t end at the cross; nor does it end at the empty tomb. The story reaches its full conclusion at the burning edge of the first New Creation dawn, when heaven and earth fully unite and we are right in the midst of God’s eternal, glorious presence forever — enjoying him and being enjoyed by him. Entirely and utterly caught up into Blessedness himself. So one vital part of that gospel message is that Jesus frees us from sin, and in him we are forgiven. But there’s so much more! Similarly, it’s so easy to think that the book of Exodus is all about how God freed Israel from slavery in Egypt. But it’s not. That’s just the prelude. Exodus is primarily about how God made a way to dwell with his people.

In Exodus 2:23–25, we see Israel move from slavery to groaning to prayer—and God responds with salvation. This shows us that God will not deliver us from what we still love, but when we come to hate our sin and groan under its weight, he delights to hear our cries and act on his covenant promises. Human hopes will always disappoint, but when our groans turn to true prayer in Jesus’ name, God hears, sees, remembers, and knows—acting not on the basis of our worthiness but on the basis of his covenant with Christ. Therefore, every believer can have confidence that God answers prayers, because for him to ignore the cry of one for whom Christ died would be to break his promise, betray his Son, and waste his suffering.

In Exodus 2, Moses emerges as a deliverer, a man of faith, and a man of failure. Yet in each of these, he ultimately points us beyond himself to Christ. Moses tries to rescue Israel but cannot free them from Egypt or from sin. Only Christ delivers fully—from our enemies and from ourselves. Moses chose to identify with God’s people by faith, looking to a greater reward. We strengthen our faith the same way: by fixing our eyes on Christ, who left glory to suffer for us. Moses sinned and feared, yet God grew him through failure. We must admit, learn, and entrust our failures to Christ, who alone can redeem them for his glory and our good.

The Israelites have found themselves in Egypt, enslaved, crushed, and oppressed on all sides. But they weren’t sent there because of their disobedience to God; in fact, they were in Egypt because of obedience and faith. So why were they afflicted with so much suffering? And where is God in all of it? Exodus 1–2 helps us to see glimmers of hope in the thick darkness of human suffering. The curtain is slowly pulled back, and we can see God’s kind hand of providence gently leading, guiding, protecting, and caring for his people.

“Boasting” is pointing to something as the source of our identity and the grounds of our confidence. Galatians 6 teaches us that we can boast in vain (empty) things, or we can boast in the cross of Christ! If our identity and confidence comes from the cross, then Christ will transform our conduct toward one another, to make his churches beautiful communities of love and service.

Though Christians still experience sinful desires, the Holy Spirit has been given to wage war within us, restrain the flesh, and produce the fruit of godliness. We cannot defeat sin by our own effort, but the Spirit enables us to live the life we were remade to want. Rather than following the desires of the flesh, we are called to walk by the Spirit, keeping in step with him daily. He leads us through Scripture, prayer, conviction, and the ordinary means of grace—offering strength, guidance, and growth that comes from God, not ourselves.

True Christian freedom is not autonomy to indulge the flesh but liberation from sin to walk in love, as a new creation in Christ. Paul urges believers to purge all hindrances to that freedom—by obeying the truth of the gospel, searching diligently for sin, and embracing the offense of the cross. Our calling mirrors the Exodus: freed not by works, but by grace, we now submit our desires to God and fulfill the law through loving others. This scandalous freedom leads us to joyfully serve, because Christ served us first.

Standing firm in true Christian freedom means rejecting every form of self-justification—whether through prideful entitlement or despairing unworthiness—and instead receiving the full benefits of Christ by faith. Paul warns that to rely on any part of the law obligates one to keep the whole law, cutting oneself off from grace. Justification cannot be earned; it must be received as a gift. Those who belong to Christ eagerly wait for the hope of righteousness—a future public vindication that rests on Jesus' merits. In the meantime, genuine faith expresses itself through love, sourced and empowered by the Holy Spirit.

Galatians 4 shows that both legalism and idolatry are forms of spiritual slavery that reject the freedom found in Christ. Paul uses the image of a child-heir under a guardian to illustrate that, before faith, people are enslaved to “elementary principles”—whether the Jewish law or pagan gods. But when Christ came, he redeemed us, adopted us, and sent his Spirit into our hearts so that we cry “Abba, Father.” Christians are not slaves but sons, and we are called to live out that sonship through knowing the truth, praying as children to our Father, and serving others in love—rejecting anything that would pull us back into trying to earn what has already been freely given.