Have you ever walked into the final movie of a trilogy without watching the first two films? You can still appreciate the cinematography, feel moved by the emotional moments, and get caught up in the action. But something crucial is missing. The weight of certain scenes, the significance of particular objects, the depth of relationships between characters—all of it falls flat because you lack the context that gives those moments their power.

This is exactly what happens when we read the Gospels without understanding Exodus.

The Most Referenced Event in Scripture

Why was Jesus born during the reign of a tyrannical king who ordered an infant genocide? Why did His ministry begin with 40 days in the wilderness? Why did He ascend a mountain to deliver the Sermon on the Mount? Why was He called the Lamb of God? Why did He time His death for Passover weekend?

The answer to every single one of these questions is Exodus.

Exodus is the event referenced more than any other in the Bible. The Prophets, books of poetry, Gospels, and New Testament letters all repeatedly connect back to this foundational story. If you want to understand Jesus, you have to understand Exodus.

Looking Backward: The Sequel to Eden

The opening lines of Exodus might seem underwhelming at first glance:

“These are the names of the sons of Israel who went to Egypt with Jacob, each with his family: Reuben, Simeon, Levi and Judah…” (Exodus 1:1-2)

A family tree? Really? But for ancient Israelites hearing this for the first time, these opening lines would have been electrifying. Why? Because they mirror almost exactly how Genesis ends. The author, Moses, is unmistakably framing this book as a sequel, picking up exactly where Genesis left off.

But the connection goes even deeper. Verses 6-7 link us not just to the end of Genesis, but all the way back to the beginning—to Eden itself:

“Now Joseph and all his brothers and all that generation died, but the Israelites were exceedingly fruitful; they multiplied greatly, increased in numbers and became so numerous that the land was filled with them.”

Notice those words: “fruitful” and “multiply.” These aren’t random descriptors. They’re the original creation mandate given to Adam and Eve in Genesis 1:28: “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth.”

The biblical drama didn’t begin with a broken world in need of fixing. It began with paradise—with peace, not oppression. The Exodus drama follows the same pattern. It doesn’t start with enslaved people crying out for deliverance. It begins with fruitfulness, multiplication, and blessing.

But then, in verse 8, everything changes: “Then a new king, to whom Joseph meant nothing, came to power in Egypt.”

Just as the serpent interrupted Eden’s blessing with a crafty scheme, this new Pharaoh arrives as a deceiver with his own plan to stop the fruitful multiplication of God’s people. The cosmic battle between blessing and curse, between the Creator’s purposes and the forces of oppression, continues.

Looking Inward: The Illusion of Freedom

Pharaoh’s scheme involves turning the Hebrews into slaves. But here’s where most English translations miss something crucial. The Hebrew word used for their labor is avodah—a word that simultaneously means work, worship, and service.

In modern English, we compartmentalize these concepts. We work at our jobs, worship at church, and serve in our communities. The Hebrew concept of avodah recognizes no such divide. It presents a holistic vision where the secular and sacred are completely integrated.

If translated literally, Exodus 1:14 would read: “They made their lives bitter with serving in brick and mortar and with every kind of serving; with every kind of serving they made them serve.”

This reveals one of the most crucial, life-altering principles of Exodus: Whatever holds your ultimate allegiance—other than God—holds your chains.

Modern society tells us that freedom means having no master at all. We believe freedom is the ability to choose what we want to do and live exactly as we see fit. The book of Exodus absolutely destroys that thinking.

When Moses confronts Pharaoh, he doesn’t simply say, “Let my people go.” Nine different times, he says, “Let my people go so that they may worship me.” Salvation in Exodus isn’t just liberation from bad circumstances; it’s liberation for worship.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: everybody is living for and worshiping something. You have something that you look at and say, “If I have that, I have significance. If I have that, I am secure.” It might be your career, your financial portfolio, or even wonderful blessings like your family.

True freedom is found in serving God; serving anything else is just choosing your captivity.

The First Commandment, given on Mount Sinai, is actually a Declaration of Emancipation: “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery. You shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:2-3).

God doesn’t forbid idols because He’s insecure; He forbids them because He’s a liberator. He’s essentially saying, “I just broke your chains to Pharaoh. Do not go out and forge new ones.”

Looking Around: God in the Shadows

As the story unfolds, things go from bad to worse. When enslavement fails to break the Hebrews, Pharaoh orders cultural genocide against all newborn Hebrew boys. He commands the midwives Shiphrah and Puah to kill every male infant during delivery.

But these women feared God more than they feared Pharaoh. They let the boys live.

When God seems most hidden, He is deeply at work. Pharaoh’s decree to kill male infants becomes the very mechanism that places Moses in Pharaoh’s own household. The oppressor unknowingly provides the best education and military training in the world to the very boy who will eventually bring down his empire.

Notice who God uses: not the powerful, but the marginalized. This Pharaoh’s name is argued over and forgotten by history, but Scripture forever records the names of two brave midwives. God uses women of low social status who disobey an evil command. He uses a desperate Hebrew mother. He uses an outsider—a Gentile Egyptian princess.

God loves to work through weakness, failure, and the outcast. If you’ve been told your whole life that you’re a nobody, take heart. You’re exactly the kind of person God uses to change the world.

Looking Forward: The Ultimate Exodus

All four Gospel writers understood that Jesus was the ultimate fulfillment of the Exodus story. They arranged His biography to mirror its melody.

Matthew presents Jesus passing through the waters of baptism, wandering 40 days in the wilderness, and ascending a mountain to deliver the Sermon on the Mount—a new law from a new Moses.

Mark describes the Transfiguration, where Jesus’ face glowed just as Moses’ did when he encountered God on the mountain.

Luke tells us that on that mountain, Moses and Jesus discussed His “exodus from this world, which was about to be fulfilled in Jerusalem.” The Greek word Luke uses for “departure” is exodus. They were discussing the ultimate Exodus.

John opens his Gospel with stunning poetry: “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (John 1:14). The Greek word for “dwelling” literally means “to pitch a tent” or “to tabernacle.” John is declaring that Jesus is the living fulfillment of the Old Testament Tabernacle—God’s glory dwelling right here in our camp.

Moses led a physical liberation for one group of people at the risk of his own life. Jesus came to lead an Exodus that liberates humanity from sin and death for all eternity at the cost of His own life.

Your Story

The story of Exodus is your story. It’s the definitive account of how God rescues His people from the empires of this world and the enslavement of their own hearts.

You cannot save yourself through perfect service. You need the One who took the very nature of a servant and became obedient to death on a cross. When you see Jesus as the ultimate Passover Lamb whose sacrifice secures your freedom, only then can you truly serve Him and be free.

The Exodus story shows us exactly what it cost for God to secure your freedom, and what it looks like to live a life of true avodah—joyful, unchained worship of the only God who can actually set you free.