The Midnight Cry and the Broken Gods Text: Exodus 12:29-32
Introduction: The Final Argument
We come now to the culmination of God's terrible and righteous war against the gods of Egypt. For nine plagues, God has been systematically dismantling the entire Egyptian pantheon. He turned the Nile, their god H'api, to blood. He made the land spew out frogs, a symbol of their goddess of fertility, Heqet, until they were a stinking mess. He struck the sun, their chief deity Ra, with a profound darkness. Each plague was a targeted strike, a theological argument written in the language of ruin, demonstrating that the gods of the most powerful empire on earth were nothing but impotent figments of a rebellious imagination. God was not just flexing His muscle; He was unmasking the idols.
But Pharaoh, the supposed incarnation of Horus, the son of Ra, remained obstinate. His heart was a lump of granite. God had given him space to repent, but Pharaoh had used that space to double down on his blasphemy. He thought he was in a contest of wills with Moses. He was mistaken. He was in a contest with the Almighty, and the final bell was about to ring at midnight. This tenth plague is not just another disaster. It is the final, shattering answer to Pharaoh's initial, arrogant question: "Who is Yahweh, that I should obey His voice to let Israel go?" (Exodus 5:2). This is God's answer. This is the blow that breaks the back of Egypt and the pride of its king.
We must understand this event not as an arbitrary act of cruelty, but as a profound act of justice, covenant faithfulness, and redemptive power. It is the night of the great distinction. Inside the homes of the Israelites, the blood of a substitute lamb marked the doorposts, and the angel of death passed over. Outside those homes, in every Egyptian house from the palace to the dungeon, the terrible price of rebellion was paid. This is the night that defines the difference between being under the blood and being under the judgment. And it is a distinction that echoes down through all of history, finding its ultimate fulfillment at another dark hour, on a hill outside Jerusalem.
The Text
Now it happened at midnight that Yahweh struck all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh who sat on his throne to the firstborn of the captive who was in the dungeon, and all the firstborn of cattle.
Then Pharaoh arose in the night, he and all his servants and all the Egyptians, and there was a great cry in Egypt, for there was no home where there was not someone dead.
Then he called for Moses and Aaron at night and said, “Rise up, get out from among my people, both you and the sons of Israel; and go, serve Yahweh, as you have spoken.
Take both your flocks and your herds, as you have spoken, and go, and bless me also.”
(Exodus 12:29-32 LSB)
The Sovereign Stroke at Midnight (v. 29)
We begin with the dreadful execution of the sentence.
"Now it happened at midnight that Yahweh struck all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh who sat on his throne to the firstborn of the captive who was in the dungeon, and all the firstborn of cattle." (Exodus 12:29)
The timing is precise: "at midnight." This is the darkest hour, the pivot point between one day and the next. It is a time freighted with theological significance. Midnight is a time of judgment (Job 34:20). It is the time the bridegroom comes, and the foolish virgins are found wanting (Matt. 25:6). At the very moment of Egypt's deepest sleep and darkest hour, God is wide awake and His judgment is perfectly timed. This is not chaos; it is divine calculation.
And notice who acts. "Yahweh struck." This is not a natural disaster. This is not a random pestilence. This is the personal, direct intervention of the covenant God of Israel. He had warned Pharaoh this was coming. "Thus says Yahweh, 'Israel is My son, My firstborn. So I say to you, let My son go that he may serve Me. But if you refuse to let him go, indeed I will kill your son, your firstborn'" (Exodus 4:22-23). This is the principle of lex talionis, an eye for an eye. Pharaoh had tried to destroy God's firstborn son, Israel, through slavery and infanticide. Now God requires the firstborn of Egypt.
The scope of the judgment is absolute and impartial. It runs from the very top to the very bottom of their society. It takes the "firstborn of Pharaoh who sat on his throne," which was not just a son, but a future god in their theology. The line of deity is snapped. It also takes the "firstborn of the captive who was in the dungeon." God's judgment is no respecter of persons. The pride of the empire and the misery of the prison are all the same before His bar of justice. No one is high enough to be immune, and no one is low enough to be overlooked. Even the "firstborn of cattle" are struck down, because this was a judgment on the entire religious and economic system of Egypt, a system built on idolatry. Many of their gods were represented by cattle, like Apis the bull. God is killing their gods.
The Great Cry of a Broken Nation (v. 30)
The divine stroke is followed by a human reaction of universal agony.
"Then Pharaoh arose in the night, he and all his servants and all the Egyptians, and there was a great cry in Egypt, for there was no home where there was not someone dead." (Exodus 12:30)
The god-king is roused from his sleep, not by a servant, but by death itself in his own house. He who was supposed to be the source of life and order for Egypt is now just another grieving father in a nation of grieving fathers. He arises with "all his servants and all the Egyptians." The whole nation is awake, and the whole nation is screaming.
The text says "there was a great cry in Egypt." This is the antithesis of the cry of the Hebrew slaves that first ascended to God (Exodus 2:23-24). They cried out in their oppression, and God heard them. Now the Egyptians cry out in their bereavement, the consequence of that same oppression. This is a cry of hopeless anguish. It is the sound of a worldview collapsing. Their gods were supposed to protect them. Their king was supposed to be divine. Their magic was supposed to be powerful. And in one silent moment at midnight, all of it was proven to be a lie. There is no one to appeal to. Their gods are dead or useless. All they can do is wail.
The reason for the cry is its totality: "for there was no home where there was not someone dead." This is a slight hyperbole, as not every single house would have had a firstborn son, but the meaning is clear. The devastation was universal. Death was in every street, in every neighborhood, in every family that was not covered by the blood of the lamb. This was a nation drowned in grief, a grief they had brought upon themselves by their hard-hearted rebellion against the one true God.
The Unconditional Surrender (v. 31)
Pharaoh's pride is finally and utterly shattered. His surrender is immediate and complete.
"Then he called for Moses and Aaron at night and said, 'Rise up, get out from among my people, both you and the sons of Israel; and go, serve Yahweh, as you have spoken.'" (Exodus 12:31)
Pharaoh, who had previously commanded Moses, "Get away from me! Take heed to yourself and see my face no more!" (Exodus 10:28), now summons him in the dead of night. The tables have turned completely. The king is now the one begging. All his previous attempts to negotiate and compromise are gone. No more, "Go, serve Yahweh, but only the men." No more, "Go, but leave your flocks." The defiance is gone. It has been replaced by sheer terror.
Notice the repetition in his frantic commands: "as you have spoken." He says it in verse 31 and again in verse 32. This is the language of total capitulation. Pharaoh is finally admitting that Yahweh's terms are the only terms. He is acknowledging the authority of God's word spoken through His prophets. All his own words, his own decrees, his own threats, have turned to ash in his mouth. He is not in control. He never was. His only recourse is to submit entirely to the word he had previously scorned. This is what true defeat looks like. It is the acknowledgment that God's reality is the only reality.
The Desperate Plea (v. 32)
Pharaoh's surrender concludes with a stunning and pathetic request.
"Take both your flocks and your herds, as you have spoken, and go, and bless me also." (Exodus 12:32)
He grants the final concession. The flocks and herds, the economic wealth of Israel that he had tried to hold back as a bargaining chip, are now released. "Take it all, just go." But it is the last three words that are the most revealing: "and bless me also."
The man who saw himself as a god, who held the power of life and death, who was the object of worship, is now desperate for a blessing from the representatives of a slave-God he had mocked. He has seen that Yahweh has the power to curse, and it has broken him. Now he begs for a blessing. This is not the cry of a repentant heart. This is the cry of a terrified pagan. It is the foxhole prayer of a man whose idols have been pulverized. He doesn't love Yahweh; he fears Him. He wants the pain to stop. He is trying to appease the God who has just wrecked his life, his family, and his nation. It is a raw, desperate admission that all power to bless or to curse resides with Yahweh alone.
The Gospel at Midnight
This entire event is a terrifying and glorious picture of the gospel. Egypt stands for the world system, enslaved to sin and false gods, ruled by a tyrant who hates the people of God. Every person born into this world is born into Egypt, under a sentence of death.
The tenth plague demonstrates that the wages of sin is death (Romans 6:23). Judgment is not a metaphor. It is real, it is personal, and it is total. From the highest to the lowest, all are under condemnation. There is no house, no heart, where sin has not brought death.
But God, in His great mercy, provides a substitute. For Israel, it was a lamb without blemish. Its blood was painted on the doorframe, and when the judgment of God came at midnight, He saw the blood and passed over. The firstborn inside was safe, not because he was innocent, but because another had died in his place. The lamb took the judgment he deserved.
This, of course, points us directly to the cross. John the Baptist saw Jesus and declared, "Behold! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!" (John 1:29). Jesus is our Passover Lamb (1 Corinthians 5:7). On the cross, at the darkest hour, the full stroke of God's righteous judgment against sin fell upon Him. He was the firstborn of all creation, and He was struck down for us. All who are "in Christ," all who have His blood applied to the doorposts of their hearts by faith, are safe. The judgment passes over us, because it has already fallen on our substitute.
The great cry of Egypt is the cry of a world that faces judgment without a substitute. It is the weeping and gnashing of teeth of those who are outside the ark of safety. But for us, the midnight hour of judgment has become the moment of our exodus. Because of the death of God's true Firstborn, we are set free from slavery to sin and death. Pharaoh has no more claim on us. We are commanded to "Rise up, get out," and to go and serve Yahweh, as He has spoken. And unlike Pharaoh, we do not beg for a blessing out of terror. We receive it with joy, as sons and daughters of the King.