I often wonder what went through Moses' mind as he stood with the Red Sea in front and the sound of furious chariot wheels behind. Maybe he scratched his beard thoughtfully—because let's face it, if ever there was a situation that called for logic, this was it. A sea before you, a bloodthirsty army behind, and a whole bunch of grumbling Israelites in between. It’s the perfect formula for a classic leadership resignation letter. “Dear God, thanks for the burning bush. I resign.”
And let’s be honest—had Moses turned around and said, “We need boats!” or “Anyone here know how to swim?” he might have been applauded for his strategic thinking. He could’ve even declared, “Survival of the fittest, folks! May the best swimmers represent God!”
But no. The man had to do the most illogical thing—he lifted a stick.
Yes, a stick. A shepherd’s staff. Not a sword, not even a flare gun. Just that old rod he’d been carrying since his Midianite herding days. And in that simple, strange act of obedience—the sea parted.
The miracle came not with the roar of logic, but in the silence of faith.
I can picture the scene. A thousand Israelites gasping, a few dropping their unleavened bread, some even thinking, Why didn’t I believe him the first time? And somewhere behind, an Egyptian soldier wondering if he brought enough life jackets.
That’s the thing about faith—it rarely makes sense at the beginning. Logic gives us excuses. Faith demands action. Logic says, “Don’t risk it, what if you drown?” Faith says, “Lift your stick.” Logic keeps us safe. Faith gets us wet—and dry on the other side.
How many of us today stand in front of our own Red Seas? A job interview that seems impossible. A relationship on the rocks. A medical report that whispers doom. The crowd behind us is loud—fear, doubt, critics, even some well-meaning friends telling us to be “realistic.” And all we’ve got is this little rod—maybe a prayer, maybe a Bible verse, maybe just enough strength to raise our hand and say, “God, I trust you!”
But remember—in the lifting came the parting.
Your rod may not look like much. It might be a trembling voice in the middle of a courtroom, a finished book sent out with a whispered prayer, or a kind word offered when anger would be easier. But if God’s asked you to lift it—lift it. Not because it makes sense, but because miracles don’t need to.
So, what Red Sea are you facing today? What jeering crowd stands behind you, nudging you towards logic? Ignore them. Grip that stick and raise it. And watch what parts.
Because survival of the fittest may be Darwin’s theory, but in God’s actions, it’s the faithful who walk on dry ground, in the midst of the sea..!
The Author conducts an online, eight session Writers and Speakers Course. If you’d like to join, do send a thumbs-up to WhatsApp number 9892572883 or send a message to bobsbanter@gmail.com
