Clash of Kingdoms - The Need for a Mediator | Exodus 2
One of my all-time favorite comedy films is Coming to America. Judge me if you want, but it’s a perfect illustration of what happens when two very different worlds collide.
Prince Akeem comes from the kingdom of Zamunda, where rose petals fall at his feet, servants anticipate his every need, and power is unquestioned. But when he arrives in America—specifically Queens, New York—everything changes. He has no money, works at McDowell’s, and trades royal privilege for humility and struggle.
It’s funny because it’s extreme. But it’s also profound.
What Coming to America shows us is what Scripture has been telling us all along: when kingdoms clash, life feels disorienting. Expectations break down. Power shifts. Identity is tested.
That tension—between two competing kingdoms—is at the heart of the book of Exodus and the story of Moses.
Two Kingdoms at War
The Exodus story is not just about Israel leaving Egypt. It’s about a deeper conflict between two kingdoms.
On one side is the Kingdom of Shalom—God’s kingdom of peace, order, goodness, and life.
On the other side is the Kingdom of Empire—a kingdom built on fear, violence, control, and chaos. It is an anti-God kingdom that treats people as expendable and power as ultimate.
Exodus forces us to wrestle with a hard truth: these two kingdoms still exist today, and we live in the tension between them.
The Power of Names—and the Absence of Them
The book of Exodus was originally called Shemot, meaning “Names.” Names matter in this story.
That’s why Exodus 2 is so striking. The text begins by intentionally not naming Moses’ parents:
“Now a man from the family of Levi married a woman from the family of Levi.”
In a book focused on names, this omission is purposeful. What we’re given instead is lineage. These are Levites—a people set apart for God’s work, for worship, and for mediation.
Before Moses is ever named, the story is already telling us something important: God often works through ordinary people with faithful roots long before we understand what He’s doing.
“She Saw That He Was Good”
When Moses is born, his mother sees that he is “beautiful.” But the Hebrew word used here is tov—the same word God uses in Genesis when He looks at creation and says, “It is good.”
Moses isn’t just cute. He is good. He is God-marked. He is worthy of protection.
This moment reminds us of something crucial: every life is sacred.
Empire always treats life as cheap. God never does.
Pharaoh’s decree—to murder Hebrew baby boys—wasn’t just political policy. It was theological rebellion. And if we’re honest, empire hasn’t stopped devaluing life.
When a culture justifies violence, disposability, and convenience at the expense of others, Scripture gives it a name: empire.
A Basket, Not a Gamble
When Moses’ mother can no longer hide him, she places him in a basket sealed with asphalt and pitch—the same materials used to seal Noah’s ark.
This is not an act of desperation. It is an act of faith.
Contrary to popular imagination, Moses isn’t set adrift down the Nile. He is placed among the reeds, in a location his mother knows Pharaoh’s daughter visits regularly.
What looks like surrender is actually strategy.
What looks like risk is actually trust.
God has always been in the business of saving people through the water.
The First Act of Mediation
Pharaoh’s daughter finds the baby, recognizes him as Hebrew, and is moved with compassion. In a stunning twist of divine irony, Moses’ own mother is hired—and paid—to nurse her son.
This is what God’s salvation often looks like:
Quiet
Subversive
Unexpected
Moses is named for being “drawn out of the water,” but the deeper truth is this: God is already preparing a deliverer while empire believes it’s in control.
Raised by Empire, Shaped by God
Moses grows up in Pharaoh’s household, educated in the ways of empire—power, fear, violence, and control.
And eventually, that formation shows.
When Moses sees an Egyptian beating a Hebrew slave, he looks around first to see if anyone is watching. Then he kills the man and hides the body in the sand.
This is a defining moment.
The kingdom of empire does not ask, “Is this right?”
It asks, “Is anyone watching?”
Moses wants justice, but he uses empire’s tools to pursue it. He carries Pharaoh’s stick—the weapon of fear—and it corrupts his good intentions.
Doing the right thing the wrong way is still wrong.
Forty Years to Lose the Stick
After fleeing Egypt, Moses spends forty years in Midian—not as a prince, but as a shepherd.
God doesn’t just remove Moses from Pharaoh’s palace.
He removes Pharaoh from Moses’ heart.
The stick of violence is replaced with a shepherd’s staff—a tool not for domination, but for guidance, protection, and care.
It takes forty years for God to undo what empire formed in Moses.
And only then is Moses ready to become a true mediator.
God Heard, God Remembered, God Knew
Exodus 2 ends with a quiet but powerful declaration:
“God heard their groaning… God remembered… God saw… and God knew.”
This is not passive awareness.
This is covenantal response.
God knows when His people need a mediator.
Moses would lead Israel out of Egypt—but more importantly, out of empire.
A Greater Mediator
As powerful as Moses is, the story ultimately points beyond him.
Like Moses, Jesus was born under threat.
Like Moses, He escaped a violent king.
Like Moses, He entered chaos to bring deliverance.
But unlike Moses, Jesus carried no stick of violence.
He laid down His life instead.
Scripture tells us:
“There is one God and one mediator between God and humanity—Christ Jesus.” (1 Timothy 2:5)
Jesus steps into the space between heaven and earth, takes our place, and offers us peace.
What Are You Crying Out About?
We still live in a clash of kingdoms.
Violence persists.
Fear dominates.
Life is often treated as cheap.
So the question is not if we need a mediator.
It’s what we need to bring to Him.
What are you hiding in the sand?
Where are you acting based on who’s watching?
Where do you need God to be your asphalt and pitch—your protection and salvation?
God hears.
God remembers.
God sees.
God knows.
And Jesus still mediates on our behalf.
