Then said his sister to Pharaoh's daughter, Shall I go and call to thee a nurse of the Hebrew women, that she may nurse the child for thee? ... And the woman took the child, and nursed it.

Jochebed Teaches Moses

When, through the providence of God, the daughter of Pharoah found Jochebed’s son in the basket, Miriam ran forward and asked it the princess would need a nurse for the baby. The princess says yes and Moses’ older sister ran back and fetched Moses’ own mother. Isn’t the providence and power of God amazing? Isn’t the planning and prayers of a mother amazing?

This is a classic definition of irony, here wrought by God, The child of the Pharoah who was trying to kill the Hebrew children, was the one who saved the child who would one day save the nation of Israel. God used the killers to become the saviors. He must have smiled at the irony of His own handiwork.

Then above and beyond this miracle of providence, Miriam goes and fetches the actual mother of this seemingly abandoned child. Can you image what it must have been like when Miriam came bursting through the door and grabbed her mother’s arm and tells her, “God has done a marvelous thing. Come and nurse your child without fear in the house of Pharoah himself!”

Though Jochebed wasn’t allowed to name her own child, she was now a vital part of his life. She would be there in the most important years of his life to teach him, to train him and to prepare him to be the man that God intended him to be. He may have been a prince of Egypt on the outside but on the inside, Jochebed made sure he was a man of God.

Had it not been for the love, the risk, the planning, and the devotion of Jochebed, Israel would not have had their great hero and prophet Moses. The man who lead them out of slavery, brought the law down from God, gave the blueprint to build the tabernacle and launch the Hebrews into the Promised land, if it had not been for Jochebed, “the Lord is glory.”

The Maternal Duty

Many Mother’s Days ago, Johnny Hart, the cartoonist who wrote the comic strip B.C. on Mother’s day wrote in his strip.

His mother's hand so strong and warm
With tender, healing touch,
Would oft reach out to still the storms
Which troubled him too much.
His mother's hand that same sweet hand,
Although it seemed uncanny,
Could also reach out lovingly
And spank his little fanny! – Johnny Hart.

Proverbs 22:6 says, “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.”

Teaching and training a child is a task for both parents, in fact to do it fully, it requires both parents, but the teaching and training of a father is not done in the same way as the teaching from a mother. Both parents have vital, God given roles to play in bringing up their children, but a mother’s role, well, that is truly a special one.

It was that way for Timothy, when Paul was trying to encourage Timothy, he went back to the greatest influences in Timothy’s life.
2 Timothy 1:3-5 I thank God, whom I serve from my forefathers with pure conscience, that without ceasing I have remembrance of thee in my prayers night and day; Greatly desiring to see thee, being mindful of thy tears, that I may be filled with joy; When I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois, and thy mother Eunice; and I am persuaded that in thee also.

Paul is telling Timothy it was the faith taught to you by your grandmother and your mother than makes you the man that God can use.

I know it was that way in my home growing up. It was Mom, Suzane, who took us to church, it was my grandmother, Eli Hue Minefee, that gave me my first Bible. It was my grandmother Buna George, that first told me, “Kris you’re going to be a preacher one day.” Mom played every special that I and my siblings ever sang until we were grown. Grandma Minefee told me her father’s favorite hymn and had me play it for her on the harmonica at her funeral. Grandma George carried a Bible filled with notes, and poems written in the flyleaves and always had her favorite tracts tucked in the pages and covers. She would often read them to us or we’d see her reading them to herself like treasured wisdom.

When Grandma George died with lymphoma, she struggled emotionally and spiritually at the end. One time when I was there she said, “What have I ever done for the Lord?” I remember holding her hand and telling her the things that she had done for the Lord, even though to her she was only doing them for her children and grandchildren it was really for the Lord.