The Terrible Kindness of God Text: Psalm 136:10-15
Introduction: A Stanza for Tough-Minded Saints
We live in a sentimental age. Our generation wants a God who is all comfort and no confrontation, all mercy and no majesty. We want a divine grandfather who pats us on the head, not a holy King who makes war on His enemies. And so, when we come to a passage like this one in Psalm 136, our modern sensibilities are frequently scandalized. We are quite happy to sing that His lovingkindness endures forever when He is making heavens and spreading out the earth. But when the refrain follows the striking of Egypt's firstborn, or the drowning of Pharaoh's army, we begin to shuffle our feet. We get embarrassed.
But the saints who sang this psalm were not embarrassed. They were not soft. They understood something that our therapeutic culture has forgotten, which is that the lovingkindness of God is not a tame or sentimental thing. The Hebrew word here is hesed. It is a covenantal term, rich with meaning. It is loyalty, faithfulness, steadfast love. It is God's unrelenting commitment to His covenant people. And because God is committed to His people, He is necessarily committed to acting against those who would destroy His people. His love is a fierce, protective, warrior love. To praise God for His hesed in delivering Israel is to praise Him for the very acts that brought that deliverance about, including the dismantling of Egypt.
This psalm is a great litany of remembrance. It is a responsive reading, where the leader recounts the mighty acts of God, and the congregation thunders back the refrain, "For His lovingkindness endures forever." It is designed to catechize the people, to drill into their bones the foundational truth that all of history is the story of God's covenant faithfulness. And this section, from verses 10 to 15, is the historical heart of their redemption. The Exodus was to Israel what the cross and resurrection are to us, the central, defining act of salvation. And you cannot have the Exodus without the collision of two kingdoms. You cannot have deliverance for Israel without judgment on Egypt. To wish for a rescue without a fight is to wish for a story with no plot, a victory with no enemy, and a salvation with no one to be saved from.
So let us set aside our modern squeamishness and enter into the mindset of the saints who sang this song with full-throated confidence. They knew that God's love was not a vague, free-floating benevolence. It was a sharp-edged, discriminating, and gloriously partisan love for His chosen people. And for that, they gave thanks.
The Text
To Him who struck the Egyptians through their firstborn,
For His lovingkindness endures forever,
Then brought Israel out from their midst,
For His lovingkindness endures forever,
With a strong hand and an outstretched arm,
For His lovingkindness endures forever.
To Him who divided the Red Sea in two,
For His lovingkindness endures forever,
And made Israel pass through the midst of it,
For His lovingkindness endures forever,
But He overthrew Pharaoh and his army in the Red Sea,
For His lovingkindness endures forever.
(Psalm 136:10-15 LSB)
The Discriminating Stroke (v. 10)
The litany of redemption begins with the final, decisive plague.
"To Him who struck the Egyptians through their firstborn, For His lovingkindness endures forever," (Psalm 136:10)
This is the verse that makes moderns choke on their gluten-free communion crackers. How can the death of the firstborn be an expression of lovingkindness? But we must think covenantally. God had declared to Pharaoh, "Israel is my firstborn son... Let my son go" (Ex. 4:22-23). Pharaoh's response was to tighten his grip, to intensify the slavery, and in effect, to try to kill God's son. So God, in a terrifying act of reciprocal justice, claimed the firstborn of Pharaoh. This was not random cruelty; it was measure-for-measure justice. It was the Law of Talionis on a national scale.
Pharaoh had set himself up as a god, and the firstborn son was the heir to that blasphemous dynasty. The plagues were a systematic assault on the pantheon of Egypt, and this final plague was a direct strike against the supposed divinity of Pharaoh's house. It was a demonstration that Yahweh, and not Pharaoh, was the Lord of life and death. For Israel, huddled in their homes under the blood of the lamb, this terrible night was the night of their salvation. The same stroke that brought wailing to Egypt brought freedom to Israel. God's lovingkindness to His people required this severe judgment on their oppressors. His hesed has teeth.
The Great Escape (v. 11-12)
The result of God's decisive judgment was the release of His people.
"Then brought Israel out from their midst, For His lovingkindness endures forever, With a strong hand and an outstretched arm, For His lovingkindness endures forever," (Psalm 136:11-12)
Israel did not sneak out. They did not win their freedom through negotiation or by organizing a clever slave revolt. They were brought out. God was the active agent. This was a divine jailbreak. And they came out not as impoverished refugees, but laden with the wealth of Egypt, a plundering that was the just payment for centuries of forced labor. This was God's lovingkindness, His covenant faithfulness, in action.
The language of "a strong hand and an outstretched arm" is classic Exodus terminology. It speaks of God's omnipotent, personal intervention in history. His hand is strong to crush His enemies and His arm is outstretched to gather His people. This is not the distant God of the deists, who winds up the clock and lets it run. This is the God who rolls up His sleeves and plunges His arms into the muck of human history to rescue His own. Every step the Israelites took out of Goshen was a testament to the fact that His lovingkindness endures forever. He had made a promise to Abraham centuries before, and now, with power and might, He was keeping it.
The Path Through the Impossible (v. 13-14)
God's deliverance leads His people into what appears to be a dead end, a divine cliffhanger.
"To Him who divided the Red Sea in two, For His lovingkindness endures forever, And made Israel pass through the midst of it, For His lovingkindness endures forever," (Psalm 136:13-14)
God loves to bring His people to the place where all human solutions run out. He backs them up against the sea, with Pharaoh's chariots thundering behind them, in order to display His glory in a way that no one can mistake. He is the God of the impossible. He does not build a bridge over the sea, or provide a fleet of boats. He does something far more dramatic. He splits the problem in half. He carves a path right through the heart of the chaos.
Notice the language. He divided the sea "in two." This is the same kind of language used for cutting a covenant, where animals were divided. This path through the sea was a covenant path. It was a baptismal moment for the nation. The Apostle Paul tells us they were "baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea" (1 Cor. 10:2). They went down into the water-walled grave and came up on the other side as a new people, delivered from their old life of bondage. This path was prepared for Israel, and for Israel alone. It was an act of discriminating grace, a clear demonstration that His lovingkindness to His people endures forever.
The Watery Grave (v. 15)
The psalm concludes this section with the other side of the coin. The path of salvation for Israel becomes the instrument of judgment for Egypt.
"But He overthrew Pharaoh and his army in the Red Sea, For His lovingkindness endures forever." (Psalm 136:15)
The Hebrew word for "overthrew" is a vigorous one. It means to shake off, or to toss. God shook Pharaoh and his host into the sea like a man shaking crumbs from a tablecloth. The very waters that stood up as walls of protection for the people of God collapsed in fury upon the enemies of God. The same instrument brought salvation to one and damnation to the other. This is a terrifying and glorious truth.
And the congregation sings, "For His lovingkindness endures forever." Why? Because the destruction of Pharaoh's army was the final, definitive act that secured Israel's freedom. As long as that army existed, Israel was not truly safe. God's hesed required the removal of the threat. His love for the sheep necessitates a fierce opposition to the wolves. God did not just deliver His people from Egypt; He delivered them by destroying the power of Egypt. This is not a God who is nice to everybody in the same way. He loves His people with a saving, covenantal love, and He hates the proud rebellion of those who set themselves against Him. The Red Sea is the great object lesson. There is no neutrality with this God. You either pass through the waters under His protection, or you are drowned in them by His justice.
Our Red Sea Deliverance
This is our story as well. We too were slaves in Egypt, in bondage to sin and to a taskmaster far more cruel than Pharaoh, the prince of this world. We were helpless, unable to free ourselves. And God, because of His great love with which He loved us, intervened.
The striking of the firstborn finds its ultimate fulfillment at the cross. There, God struck His own firstborn Son, Jesus Christ, who stood in our place. The judgment we deserved fell upon Him. He is our Passover Lamb, and it is only by being covered in His blood that the angel of death passes over us. His death was our freedom.
And like Israel, we have been brought out "with a strong hand and an outstretched arm." Our salvation is a mighty act of God's power, not the result of our own striving. He reached down into our slavery and pulled us out.
We too have passed through the waters. In our baptism, we are identified with Christ in His death and resurrection. We go down into the water, buried with Him, and we are raised on the other side to newness of life, while the power of our old master, sin, is drowned and broken behind us. The Red Sea for us is the cross and the empty tomb.
Therefore, we must learn to sing this song without flinching. We worship a God whose love and justice are two sides of the same glorious coin. We give thanks to Him who judged sin in the flesh of His Son, so that He could bring us out from our bondage. We praise Him for dividing the waters of death itself, making a way for us to pass through safely. And we praise Him for overthrowing our ancient enemy, Satan, and all his host at the cross. We praise Him for all of it, because in all of it, we see the fierce, unrelenting, covenant-keeping love of God. For His lovingkindness, His hesed, endures forever.