The Red Sea Divides

The Red Sea Divides

The wind howled across the desert night, carrying the cries of thousands. The Israelites stood trapped between the roaring sea and Pharaoh’s army, their torches flickering against the endless dark.

Moses stepped forward, his robe whipping in the storm. His eyes lifted—not to the waves, not to the enemy—but to Heaven.

“Lord,” he whispered, voice trembling yet fierce, “You brought us here... now show them who You are.”

Lightning split the sky. The staff in his hand glowed with the fire of purpose. He thrust it toward the sea.

The earth groaned. The sea answered. Waters surged upward—walls of liquid glass reaching for the heavens, trembling with holy power.

A corridor of dry land formed between them, stretching into the impossible. The people gasped; some fell to their knees. Moses turned, his voice thundering like the storm itself:

“MOVE FORWARD! THE LORD FIGHTS FOR YOU!”

They ran—not from fear, but from faith—beneath the towering waves that gleamed with the reflection of divine light. Behind them, Pharaoh’s chariots thundered, iron against stone.

When the last child crossed, Moses raised his staff once more. The sea roared back into place, swallowing darkness whole. Silence fell—only the sound of the wind, the whisper of victory.

And on the far shore, bathed in sunrise, Moses fell to his knees. Tears streamed down his face as he breathed,
“Not by power... not by might... but by Your Spirit.”

The people sang. Heaven echoed.
And the Red Sea—once a barrier—became a memory of God’s unstoppable glory.