During that long period, the king of Egypt died. The Israelites groaned in their slavery and cried out, and their cry for help because of their slavery went up to God. God heard their groaning and he remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac and with Jacob.
Exodus 2:23-24 NIV
In the quiet depths of Exodus 2:23–25, we encounter a powerful turning point in Israel’s journey. The people groaned under the weight of their bondage in Egypt, and their cries rose to heaven. Then Scripture tells us, “God heard their groaning, and He remembered His covenant…” (Exodus 2:24). In this pivotal moment, God turned His gaze toward His people—not because He had forgotten them, but because they finally acknowledged their desperate need. Here, the promise begins to stir again.
The word “remembered” in this context does not imply forgetfulness on God’s part. Instead, it signifies the moment He chose to act upon the promise already given. For years, the Israelites had remained in Egypt. Though it was never their destined inheritance, Egypt became familiar ground. What once served as a place of refuge in famine had slowly turned into a place of bondage. And yet, they stayed—perhaps because nothing had yet gone terribly wrong. But comfort can be a quiet captor. We often settle into temporary seasons simply because they feel safe.
It wasn’t until Egypt became unbearable that the Israelites finally cried out to God. Their suffering brought about a holy desperation. And in that moment, God responded—not because He had just noticed their pain, but because their cry revealed a readiness. They were no longer content with Egypt. They were ready to walk toward the promise.
This account challenges us in a deeply personal way. How often do we linger in places God never intended us to remain? How many times have we mistaken the ease of a season for God’s purpose? Sometimes we prolong our own hardship, not due to divine silence, but because of human complacency. Like the Israelites, we stay where we are simply because “it’s not that bad”—until it is.
But God does not respond to our comfort; He responds to our cry. When we finally acknowledge our need, when we lift our voices in surrender, He moves. His promises are never void, but they are often activated by our faith-filled response. The Israelites’ cry wasn’t just about pain—it was a posture shift. They turned their hearts towards God and His covenant. They were ready for the promise.
This is our call today: don’t make peace with places meant only for passing. Don’t build a life in what was supposed to be a shelter. Comfort should never replace calling. We must wake up, examine our lives, and ask—Am I still in Egypt when God has prepared a promised land for me?
Now is the time to stir ourselves again. To cry out to God, not only because life is difficult, but because we know there’s more. Let us engage Him in faith, believing that the promise still stands. He is faithful to act, not because we deserve it, but because He delights in fulfilling His Word. He will not ignore the sincere cry of a heart that longs for what He has prepared.
The season of slumber is over. Rise, beloved. A land flowing with milk and honey awaits.