In this brief service, we have the whole Christian life neatly summed up. And as we progress through such a service, we trust that the downcast are lifted up and encouraged, that the apathetic are stirred and challenged, that the weary are fed and revived. We trust that they can take what they have experienced on Sunday morning and imitate it through the week as they live the Christian life—they, too, can pray and read and learn and sing and serve. On Sunday we give believers what they need not just on Sunday but on every other day as well.

A well-planned worship service is a tremendous blessing to those who participate in it. A well-planned service is not necessarily one in which the projector never flickers and the microphones never buzz, or one in which the transitions are smooth and the sermon doesn’t go long. Rather, a well-planned service is one whose elements have been carefully planned to fulfill God’s purposes for the public gatherings of his church.
How, then, do we plan our services? What elements should a service have? There are many ways to answer the question, but at minimum, the service needs to have singing, praying, Scripture-reading, and preaching. On a regular basis, if not every week, it should also have the Lord’s Supper. Each of these elements is demanded or displayed in the New Testament.
But I want to look at it from another angle that I believe can be helpful in planning our services. It’s unfortunate but realistic to assume that many people come to church on Sunday having given little thought to their faith the previous week. Many people worship on Sunday, then get busy living their lives and neglect the disciplines of the Christian life. They mean to pray, but don’t discipline themselves to actually pray; they intend to read the Bible, but allow laziness or the tyranny of the urgent to keep them away. Then a new Sunday approaches and they come to church feeling weak and needy and probably a little bit guilty.
Such people are genuine believers, but immature ones or ones who are going through those tough periods of spiritual stagnation.
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The exodus is the narrative heart of the Old Testament. It is the central act of redemption upon which the rest of Scripture depends. The exodus is the foundation of Israel’s identity as a people. They are fundamentally a nation of slaves that God redeemed to be His own people and to fulfill the promises that He long ago gave to their ancestor Abraham. The crossing of the Red Sea, therefore, was Israel’s chief moment of salvation. And throughout Scripture, singing is repeatedly shown to be the proper response to God’s salvation. 

After studying through a genealogy, a psalm that was also a parable, and a proverb about oxen, we at last moved back into a larger text. Particularly, we return to the book of Exodus, which we previously studied last year. We concluded with chapter 14 and then went on to conclude the Gospel of Mark. My reasoning for breaking larger books like Mark and Exodus into multiple series is twofold. First, I enjoy moving between different biblical genres, so I prefer to parse larger texts out over the span of a couple of years, studying other passages in between.
Second, I enjoy organizing sermons each year so that they loosely all build together upon a similar theme. Most often I try to do this with first an Old Testament text followed by parallel New Testament text. I have done this with pairing Ecclesiastes and Philippians under the theme of joy, with Haggai and Ephesians, Daniel and Mark 1-8, and Exodus 1-14 and Mark 9-16 all under the theme of God’s kingdom.
This year we depart from that overarching theme and come under the theme of God as our shepherd. Here in Exodus 15-19, we will see very clearly how the LORD shepherded Israel like a flock through the wilderness and to the foot of Sinai, and later the book of Hebrews will urge us to consider Jesus, “the great shepherd of the sheep” (13:20). For now, we begin our second part of Exodus with the Song of Moses.
Then Moses and the People of Israel Sang
The very first word of our text is then, which ought to immediately make us pause because it means that an effect is about to be given. Thus, we ought to pause to consider the cause. In the first fourteen chapters of Exodus, God redeemed His people from their four-hundred-year captivity in Egypt. By His sovereign hand, God preserved Moses’ life through the slaughter of Israel’s newborn males, established him in Pharaoh’s own palace to receive the highest quality education of his day (something that would undoubtedly be valuable as the Holy Spirit led him in the writing of Scripture), sent him into the wilderness for forty years as a shepherd, and then sent him back to Egypt to lead the Israelites out of their slavery. Through Moses, the LORD worked the wonders that we now commonly call the ten plagues, which left Egypt in ruin. Nevertheless, even after Pharaoh demanded Israel’s departure, God baited Pharaoh into riding out against Israel with all of his chariots, thinking that they had foolishly wandered to the edge of the Red Sea. God, however, miraculously parted the sea so that Israel went across on dry land. With his heart thoroughly hardened, Pharaoh actually had the hubris to chase after Israel into the midst of the sea, which was when the LORD released the walls of water, drowning Pharaoh and all his horses and riders.
That is the cause of verse 1’s effect: Then Moses and the people of Israel sang this song to the LORD… On the opposite shore of the sea, with their four-hundred-year sojourn in Egypt on the other side and with the bodies of men and horses washing upon the shore, Israel sang to their God, the true and living God.
This song, most often called the Song of Moses but also called the Song of the Sea, is the first psalm of the Bible, and there is a very good possibility that it was the very first portion of the Bible to have been written down by Moses. Indeed, we can easily envision Moses writing down these words before Israel sets out from the sea in verse 22. There have been many scholars who see this musical interjection into the narrative of Exodus as being out of place. Yet they fail to see both the theological and artistic composition of this book of Scripture. This musical interlude is a feature rather than a bug, and it is a feature both theologically and artistically.
It is an artistic feature of Exodus because Moses knew what many ivory-tower academics can easily forget: music is as woven into the foundations of the cosmos as much as wisdom is. Job 38:7 tells us that the stars and angels sang and shouted for joy during creation, and Revelation shows us repeatedly that our life everlasting will be marked by songs of praise. And there are songs everywhere in-between. Martin Luther is often noted for calling music the greatest gift that God has given humanity, second only to the Scriptures.
Theologically, this song is necessary. As I repeatedly have said, the exodus is the narrative heart of the Old Testament. It is the central act of redemption upon which the rest of Scripture depends. The exodus is the foundation of Israel’s identity as a people. They are fundamentally a nation of slaves that God redeemed to be His own people and to fulfill the promises that He long ago gave to their ancestor Abraham. The crossing of the Red Sea, therefore, was Israel’s chief moment of salvation. And throughout Scripture, singing is repeatedly shown to be the proper response to God’s salvation. Indeed, Philip Ryken writes, “The history of salvation is sometimes described as a drama–the drama of redemption. However, this drama is actually a musical. It is impossible even to conceive of Biblical Christianity without songs of praise.”[1]
This is why we so often link singing and worship together. Of course, we know that worship itself is far more than just singing, yet even so, singing is intimately bound to our worship of God. Worship is most simply our act of giving to God the worth that He deserves. Thus, being created and redeemed by God, we owe Him nothing less than our very selves. Therefore, Romans 12:1 is perhaps the most succinct biblical description of our worship in Christ: “I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”
Worship is nothing less than giving ourselves entirely to God, and this certainly encompasses our singing. To both the Colossians and the Ephesians, Paul clearly expected singing to play a regular role in communicating the truths of Scripture to one another. Indeed, throughout our sojourning through this life, we ought to say with the psalmist to the LORD: “Your statutes have been my songs in the house of my sojourning” (Psalm 119:54).
Indeed, nothing will sink the truths of Scripture more deeply into our hearts than songs. That is why I generally give more serious consideration to adding a particular song to our Sunday morning singing than I do to choosing which texts of Scripture to preach. When it comes to choosing a book or passage to preach, I certainly want to be sensitive to what would best fit our congregation’s particular season, yet in the end, God’s Word will never return void. The songs we sing, however, are compliments to Scripture rather than Scripture itself. They must, then, undergo a far greater degree of scrutiny. This becomes doubly important whenever we consider that songs are far more memorable than words alone. Thus, whenever I select songs for us to sing congregationally, I am actively looking for songs that are worthy of being the soundtrack to our earthly pilgrimage.
Indeed, there is no question that we will sing and make music; that is part of being made in God’s image. The question is what kind of songs will we sing. Particularly, will our heart’s theme song be: I will sing to the LORD, for he has triumphed gloriously?
The Song of Moses
As we move into the actual contents of this psalm, rather than moving verse-by-verse through it, we will focus upon its three broad themes: what God has done, what God will do, and who God is.
The whole occasion of the psalm is an exultation in what God had just done. Verses 4-10 and 12 largely give a poetic retelling of Pharaoh’s destruction in the waters of the sea. Ryken calls us to consider a point that many would rather pass over: “Realize that in this song he did not praise God for the exodus in general, but specifically for the death of the Egyptians as a demonstration of divine wrath.”[2]
If that sounds harsh and even unjust, we need to recalibrate our notion of justice so that it accords with Scripture. God’s triumph in the exodus was certainly in bringing His people out of slavery, yet it was also about beheading Pharaoh as an offspring of the serpent. The plagues upon Egypt were judgment, and the Red Sea was an execution. Indeed, God made certain that the execution fit the crime. This Pharaoh drowned just as the Pharaoh before him had drowned so many infants in the Nile. It was right for Moses and the Israelites to celebrate, for as Proverbs 11:10 says, “When it goes well with the righteous, the city rejoices, and when the wicked perish there are shouts of gladness.”
Today, we sing similar songs of Christ’s triumph over the serpent himself. In the hymn, A Mighty Fortress Is Our God, we sing:
And though this world with devils filled should threaten to undo usWe will not fear for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us.The prince of darkness grim, we tremble not for him,His rage we can endure, for lo his doom is sure,One little word shall fell him.
Working the greater exodus upon the cross, Jesus triumphed over the powers of darkness and put them to open shame. Even so, the greatest enemy that Jesus defeated is our own sin.
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Indeed, when a Christian’s best testimony to his neighbors is found in waiting patiently for governing officials to permit churches to gather again, thus denying Christ’s command to gather, we have a new instance of Corban—replacing the law of God with human traditions.

In January, a few members of our church put on our masks, boarded planes, and traveled to the Founders Conference, where we heard from the likes of Voddie Baucham, James Dolezal, Tom Ascol, and the leaders of Just Thinking, Virgil Walker and Darrell Harrison. In short, the trip, drenched in warm Florida sun, was encouraging, and the messages, saturated with biblical truth, were edifying—especially with respect to the subject of standing for Christ in an age that has become increasingly hostile towards Christians.

Addressing that subject and the new religion of universal autonomy and equality, Tom Ascol and Jared Longshore have released a new book called Strong and Courageous: Following Jesus Amid the Rise of America’s New Religion. Falling in line with newer books like Glenn Sunshine’s Slaying Leviathan and Rod Dreher’s Live Not by Lies, as well as older books like Francis Schaeffer’s A Christian Manifesto, and even older books like Samuel Rutherford’s Lex Rex: The Law and the King and Junius Brutus’s Vindiciae Tyrannos: A Defense of Liberty Against Tyrants, this new volume promises to bolster the church at a time when public silence and civil cowardice are spreading faster than COVID.
In other words, this book comes at a time when Christians and especially pastors need courage. And this will be a book I hand to many pastors, as it provides bold and biblical arguments that stand against the online pablum that undercuts biblical courage with Christian civility (read: niceness). Indeed, when a Christian’s best testimony to his neighbors is found in waiting patiently for governing officials to permit churches to gather again, thus denying Christ’s command to gather, we have a new instance of Corban—replacing the law of God with human traditions. But thankfully, some are seeing through this misguided application of Scripture and are providing solid food for God’s flock. And in Strong and Courageous, Ascol and Longshore do just that.
In particular, they observe how Christians have been lulled into a secular idea of love that says, “If you love me, you will affirm me, no questions asked.” Whether Christians recognize the connection or not, too many have been led to believe that loving neighbor means affirming and embracing the edicts of the government, no questions asked. Sure, many want to believe that their governors are doing what is in their best interest, but this gets to a fundamental question about what governors are for and how far governments can reach—do they really have the God-given authority to prescribe how your church worships? The answer is ‘No.’ Strong and Courageous gets into this subject and shows how governors have overreached—both with respect to America’s Constitution (as well as the constitutions of various states) and with respect to God’s appointed design for human rulers. For this reason, I highly commend the book.
Still, government overreach is not the point I want to highlight here. Instead, I want to stem the tide of defining Christian love in worldly ways (i.e., making moral commitments that are based on modern sentiments, rather than inspired Scripture). I fear that many Christians are attempting to bind the consciences of others in the name of Christian love with practices and priorities that do not come from Scripture itself. Rather, love has been (re)defined by a cultural catechesis delivered in public schools, by governing officials, and through an endless stream of social media influencers. Not to mention the fact that churches have done little to teach what Scripture says about church and state.
All told, Christians need to go back to Scripture and ask: What does it mean to love my neighbor? Romans 12 would be a good place to start. But outside of Scripture, Strong and Courageous provides a good counter-argument that the most loving thing we can do is to do all that our governors are saying. Actually, as they argue, the most loving thing we can do is call governors back from tyranny and fellow citizens to know the true love of God.
(N.B. If defying tyrants is an uncommon phrase, or if you are uncertain about what a tyrant looks like, go back to the list of books at the top, starting with Slaying Leviathan, and pick one up. Church history has much to offer in recognizing tyranny and understanding what Christians must do in response. American Christians have lived in relative freedom for so long, our “defying tyrants” muscles are flaccid. Some don’t know we even have them, or need them. But we do. For without that biblical duty, we cannot properly love God or our neighbor.)
Now, here is the quote in full.
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