In the opening chapter of Exodus, tucked between the rising oppression of Israel and the eventual birth of Moses, we encounter two women whose names deserve to be spoken with reverence in every generation. Shiphrah and Puah, Hebrew midwives whose defiant obedience to God altered the course of history, stand as timeless witnesses to what happens when the fear of God overwhelms the fear of man. Their story, recorded in Exodus 1:15-22, offers us a masterclass in moral courage, civil disobedience rooted in divine allegiance, and the surprising ways God rewards faithfulness in the face of tyranny.
A Nation Under Siege
Before we meet these remarkable women, we must understand the desperate context in which they operated. The children of Israel had multiplied exceedingly in Egypt, and a new Pharaoh arose "who did not know Joseph" (Exodus 1:8, ESV). This king regarded the burgeoning Hebrew population not with gratitude for their ancestors' service to Egypt, but with suspicion and fear. The Egyptian response was systematic oppression: "Therefore they set taskmasters over them to afflict them with heavy burdens" (Exodus 1:11, ESV).
But here we encounter one of Scripture's recurring ironies: persecution intended to diminish God's people often produces the opposite effect. The text tells us, "But the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and the more they spread abroad" (Exodus 1:12, ESV). The Hebrew word פָּרַץ (paratz), translated here as "spread abroad," connotes bursting forth and breaking out with unstoppable force. It's the same word used to describe water breaking through barriers. Egypt tried to contain Israel, but God's blessing made them overflow.
Pharaoh's frustration with failed oppression led him to a more sinister strategy: genocide through the hands of those who bring life into the world.
Death Disguised as Policy
"Then the king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, 'When you serve as midwife to the Hebrew women and see them on the birthstool, if it is a son, you shall kill him, but if it is a daughter, she shall live'" (Exodus 1:15-16, ESV).
This command is breathtaking in its cruelty. Pharaoh sought to weaponize the very women whose calling was to preserve life, transforming birth attendants into executioners. The Hebrew word for "birthstool" (הָאָבְנָיִם, ha'ovnayim) literally means "the two stones" on which a woman would crouch during delivery in ancient Near Eastern birthing practices. This was the sacred space where life emerged into the world, and Pharaoh sought to turn it into a killing field.
The names Shiphrah (שִׁפְרָה) and Puah (פּוּעָה) are significant. Shiphrah likely derives from a root meaning "fair" or "beautiful," while Puah may derive from a root meaning "splendor" or possibly "crying out." These names themselves testify to life, beauty, and the vocalizations of birth, everything Pharaoh's command sought to silence.
Scholars debate whether these two women were the only midwives for all Israel or whether they were leaders of a larger guild of midwives. Given that Israel now numbered in the hundreds of thousands, the latter seems more likely. These women held positions of authority and influence among their people, which makes their upcoming act of defiance even more significant. They had something to lose.
We must also consider the demonic dimension of Pharaoh's command. Throughout Scripture, we see a pattern of Satan attempting to destroy the line through which the Messiah would come. From Cain's murder of Abel to Herod's slaughter of the innocents in Bethlehem, there runs a crimson thread of attempted genocide against God's redemptive plan. Pharaoh, whether he knew it or not, was participating in ancient evil's attempt to prevent the coming of the One who would crush the serpent's head (Genesis 3:15). Israel carried in her womb not just babies, but the hope of the world.
Fearing God Over Man
"But the midwives feared God and did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them, but let the male children live" (Exodus 1:17, ESV).
This single verse contains the hinge upon which the entire story turns. The Hebrew word translated "feared" is יָרֵא (yare), which encompasses reverence, awe, worship, and yes, fear in the sense of taking someone seriously enough to order your life around them. The midwives feared God, and this fear eclipsed any terror Pharaoh could inspire.
This was not abstract theology for Shiphrah and Puah. This was lived faith in the furnace of impossible choices. They stood in the throne room of the most powerful empire on earth, receiving direct orders from a man who held the power of life and death in his hands. To refuse him meant risking torture, imprisonment, execution. They knew what happened to those who defied Pharaoh. Yet the text says they "did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them."
The verb used here, עָשָׂה (asah), means "to do, make, accomplish." They simply did not do it. There's a beautiful simplicity to their resistance. They didn't organize a protest movement or deliver eloquent speeches about human rights. They just refused to murder babies, and they used their professional position to protect life instead of destroying it.
This brings us to a crucial principle of biblical ethics: there is a hierarchy of authority, with God at the apex. Generally, we are commanded to submit to governing authorities (Romans 13:1-7), but this submission is never absolute. When human authority commands what God forbids, or forbids what God commands, our duty is clear: "We must obey God rather than men" (Acts 5:29, ESV).
Shiphrah and Puah embodied this principle centuries before Peter articulated it. They understood that Pharaoh's authority, though real, was derivative and limited. God's authority was ultimate and unlimited. When the two came into conflict, there was no real choice, only the test of whether their fear of God was genuine enough to override their fear of man.
Standing Before Power
"So the king of Egypt called the midwives and said to them, 'Why have you done this, and let the male children live?'" (Exodus 1:18, ESV).
Picture this moment. Shiphrah and Puah, women who worked with their hands in blood and water and new life, stand once again before the golden throne of Egypt's god-king. The verb קָרָא (qara), "called," suggests a formal summons; this was not a friendly conversation but a legal interrogation. Pharaoh's question drips with accusation: "Why have you done this thing?" The demonstrative pronoun הַזֶּה (hazeh), "this," points accusingly at their disobedience, highlighting the enormity of their defiance in Pharaoh's eyes.
The midwives are alone, without lawyers or advocates, facing the man who could end their lives with a word. Yet they must answer. What they say next has been analyzed, debated, and pondered for millennia.
Truth-Telling in Complex Circumstances
"The midwives said to Pharaoh, 'Because the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women, for they are vigorous and give birth before the midwife comes to them'" (Exodus 1:19, ESV).
This response has generated considerable discussion among interpreters. Were the midwives lying? Does God bless deception? The question is important because the text states that God dealt well with them.
The Hebrew word translated as "vigorous" is חָיוֹת (chayot), derived from the root חָיָה (chayah), meaning "to live, have life, be lively, be quickened." It suggests vitality, life-force, and energetic strength. The midwives essentially told Pharaoh that Hebrew women were so full of life that they gave birth quickly, before professional help could arrive.
The comparison itself is instructive: "not like the Egyptian women" (לֹא כַנָּשִׁים הַמִּצְרִיֹּת, lo chanashim hamitzriyot). The midwives draw a distinction between two populations. Egyptian women, living lives of relative comfort and ease, may indeed have had more difficult labors. Hebrew women, hardened by the brutal regimen of slavery described earlier in the chapter, making bricks, working in fields, enduring "hard service" (עֲבֹדָה קָשָׁה, avodah qashah), would have developed physical resilience.
Was this true? Possibly. There could well have been truth to their claim that Hebrew women, hardened by slavery and field labor, had more vigorous constitutions than their Egyptian counterparts, who lived lives of comparative ease. The midwives may have been highlighting a real pattern while conveniently omitting the fact that they had also been actively protecting babies when they did arrive in time.
The text itself doesn't tell us whether this was a lie, a partial truth, or a complete truth. What it does tell us is what God blessed: their refusal to murder innocent children. Scripture commends them not for any possible deception, but for their courage in preserving life. As one commentator notes, even if they misled Pharaoh, their commendation came from their defiant obedience to God's moral law, not from any untruth they may have spoken.
This raises important questions for us about living faithfully in hostile environments. When Nazi soldiers asked if Jews were hidden in a home, was it righteous to say "no"? When slave catchers demanded information about the Underground Railroad, was it godly to mislead them? Scripture presents examples: Rahab hides the spies, and the Hebrew midwives deflect Pharaoh, in which deception in the service of protecting innocent life seems to receive divine approval, or at least divine silence, where condemnation might be expected.
The principle seems to be this: where human authority commands participation in evil, our primary duty is to refuse that evil, and secondary questions about how we explain that refusal must be weighed against competing moral obligations. Preserving innocent life takes precedence over absolute transparency with those who seek to destroy it.
Divine Sovereignty Through Human Agency
The interplay between God's sovereignty and human responsibility in this narrative deserves careful attention. The text attributes Israel's multiplication directly to God's blessing, yet this blessing flows through and alongside human courage. God dealt well with the midwives; God made the people multiply; God gave families to the faithful. Yet none of this happened through divine fiat alone. It happened because two women chose courage over compliance.
This is the Biblical pattern: God ordains both the end and the means. He determines that His purposes will be accomplished, and He also determines that they will be accomplished through the faithful obedience of His people. Pharaoh said "less," and God said "more," but God's "more" came through midwives who said "no" to murder.
The Hebrew construction throughout this passage emphasizes both divine action and human response. When the text says "the people multiplied" (וַיִּרֶב הָעָם, vayirev ha'am), it uses a form that can indicate divine causation. Yet this multiplication happened because babies weren't murdered, babies whose lives were preserved by human choice. God's sovereignty doesn't bypass human agency; it enlists it.
Consider also the irony that pervades this narrative. The Pharaoh's attempt to diminish Israel caused her to increase. His slavery made them stronger. His genocide plot was thwarted by the very women he tried to use as instruments of death. At every turn, human evil meets divine reversal. Where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more (Romans 5:20). This isn't an accident or coincidence; it's the fingerprint of God's sovereign grace.
Moreover, note that God achieves victory not through overwhelming force but through quiet faithfulness. He doesn't send angels to strike Pharaoh dead. He doesn't part the Nile to drown the Egyptians (not yet, anyway). He works through two women whose names most people never heard, women without political power or military might, women whose only weapons were conviction and courage. God delights to show His power through weakness, to accomplish cosmic purposes through seemingly insignificant people.
This should encourage every believer who feels small and powerless in the face of institutional evil. You may not be able to change the whole system. You may not be able to reform the government or redirect the culture. But you can, in your sphere, refuse to participate in evil and choose to do good. And God, who sees and honors such faithfulness, can take your obedience and weave it into purposes far greater than you imagine.
The midwives didn't overthrow Pharaoh's regime. They didn't organize a resistance movement or stage a revolution. They simply refused to kill babies. That's all, and that's everything. They stewarded their limited power with integrity, and God used it to preserve a nation and advance His redemptive plan.
"So God dealt well with the midwives. And the people multiplied and grew very strong. And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families" (Exodus 1:20-21, ESV).
Three distinct blessings flow from the midwives' faithfulness. First, God dealt well with them personally, a phrase suggesting divine favor, protection, and blessing in all their affairs. The Hebrew הֵיטִב (hetiv) means "to do good to, make well, make better." God improved their circumstances and prospered their way.
Second, the people they protected multiplied and grew strong. Their obedience didn't just save individual lives; it enabled the exponential growth of the entire nation. Every male child they saved could father children of his own. Every generation saved multiplied God's people. One act of courage echoed through centuries.
The word for "grew strong" is עָצַם (atzam), meaning "to be strong, mighty, numerous." It's often used in military contexts to describe the strengthening of forces. What Pharaoh tried to prevent through murder, God accomplished through the faithfulness of two women. The very thing Pharaoh feared, Israel becoming "too mighty for us" (Exodus 1:9), came to pass through the courage of those who defied him.
Third, and perhaps most intimately, God gave the midwives' families, literally, "He made for them houses" (וַיַּעַשׂ לָהֶם בָּתִּים, vaya'as lahem batim). The word בַּיִת (bayit) means "house" but extends beyond physical structure to household, family, dynasty, posterity. God gave them what they had helped others achieve: thriving families of their own.
This detail is particularly poignant because midwives often entered their profession precisely because they were childless. To watch others give birth, day after day, while remaining barren themselves, would have been its own form of suffering. Yet God saw their faithfulness in stewarding others' children and responded by giving them children of their own. They saved sons, and God gave them sons. They preserved families, and God built their families.
When Evil Doubles Down
The story doesn't end with a blessing, however. It ends with escalation: "Then Pharaoh commanded all his people, 'Every son that is born to the Hebrews you shall cast into the Nile, but you shall let every daughter live'" (Exodus 1:22, ESV).
Thwarted by the midwives, Pharaoh made his genocidal command public and comprehensive. No longer would he work through the subterfuge of corrupting birth attendants. Now every Egyptian was deputized to drown Hebrew baby boys in the Nile. The verb שָׁלַךְ (shalak), "cast, throw," suggests violent disposal, not careful laying but hurling into the river to drown.
This escalation reminds us that faithfulness doesn't always prevent evil from advancing. Sometimes it simply redirects evil, which then seeks another avenue. The midwives' courage saved countless lives, but it didn't end Pharaoh's campaign of death. Evil, when resisted in one form, often mutates into another.
Yet even here, God's sovereignty weaves redemption through the warp and woof of human evil. This very command, to cast boys into the Nile, becomes the means by which Moses, the deliverer, ends up in Pharaoh's household, educated in all the wisdom of Egypt, positioned perfectly to lead God's people to freedom. The weapon Pharaoh meant for destruction became the instrument of Israel's salvation. The river of death became the pathway to deliverance.
Lessons for Modern Disciples
What does this ancient story of Hebrew midwives speak to us today? Everything.
First, moral courage is possible even under tyranny. Shiphrah and Puah had every human reason to comply with Pharaoh's command. The deck was stacked against them. Yet they said no. Their example refutes the claim that circumstances render righteousness impossible. Difficult, yes. Costly, certainly. But impossible? Never.
Second, fearing God provides courage to resist human tyrants. The antidote to the fear of man is not the absence of fear, but the presence of a greater fear. When we see God rightly, in His holiness, power, and justice, the threats of earthly powers shrink in proportion. Pharaoh could kill the body. God could cast into hell. Who, then, should we fear?
Third, our vocations can become venues for faithfulness. Shiphrah and Puah didn't abandon their profession to become activists. They practiced faithful midwifery in defiance of wicked policy. They stewarded their calling with integrity. Whatever our sphere of influence, healthcare, education, business, government, or parenthood, we can choose to operate according to God's kingdom values rather than cultural corruption.
Fourth, God blesses those who take risks for righteousness. We cannot manipulate God into rewarding us, but Scripture consistently testifies that He sees and honors those who honor Him, often in surprising and generous ways. The midwives risked everything and received everything. God may not always bless our faithfulness with material prosperity, but He always blesses it with His presence and pleasure, which is infinitely more valuable.
Fifth, individual faithfulness can have a multigenerational impact. Two women said no to murder, and the result was the preservation of Israel and eventually the birth of the Messiah through that line. We rarely see the full consequences of our choices in the moment. Faithfulness plants seeds that bear fruit in ways we cannot imagine.
Sixth, civil disobedience is sometimes a biblical imperative. We do this text a disservice if we domesticate it into mere inspiration while ignoring its radical implications. There are circumstances, rare but real, when following Jesus means breaking human law. When the state commands abortion, worship of false gods, denial of truth, or participation in injustice, the follower of Christ must refuse, must resist, must obey God rather than men.
The Greater Midwife
Ultimately, the story of Shiphrah and Puah points beyond itself to a greater story of life rescued from death. These midwives saved Hebrew boys from Pharaoh's decree to kill them. But there is One who saves all humanity from the murderous decree of sin and death.
Jesus Christ is the ultimate midwife of souls, bringing us from death to life, from darkness to light. Where we were dead in trespasses and sins, He has made us alive (Ephesians 2:1-5). Where we faced the just sentence of divine wrath, He interposed Himself, taking our death that we might have His life.
The midwives feared God and preserved physical life. Christ feared, which is to say, obeyed and honored His Father and preserved eternal life for all who believe. The midwives risked death from Pharaoh. Christ embraced death on the cross. The midwives received households as a reward. Christ is building an eternal household, a family of faith drawn from every tribe and tongue.
And like the midwives, Christ's work of deliverance came through defiance of tyrannical power. Satan demanded death; Christ offered life. The world system demanded conformity to its patterns; Christ refused and called His followers to do the same. The powers that be commanded silence; the gospel refuses to be silenced.
Your Birthing Room Moment
Somewhere today, someone reading these words stands in their own birthing room moment. You face a choice between complicity with evil and costly obedience to God. Your Pharaoh may be a boss demanding dishonest practices, a culture pressuring compromise, a government requiring what God forbids, or even your own heart rationalizing convenient evil.
Remember Shiphrah and Puah. They were ordinary women in an extraordinary crisis who discovered that the fear of God is more powerful than the fear of man. They stewarded their calling with courage and found that God stewards the courageous with blessing. They said yes to life when everything around them demanded death, and through that simple, terrifying, beautiful yes, they became partners with God in His redemptive purposes.
The question before you is the same question that confronted two ancient midwives: Whom will you fear? Whose command will you obey? What life, physical or spiritual, your own or another's, is God calling you to protect, even at great cost?
The call to radical obedience is never easy. But it is always right. And it is always rewarded, if not in houses and families in this age, then in the age to come with the words we all long to hear: "Well done, good and faithful servant."
May we all have the grace to follow in the footsteps of Shiphrah and Puah, who feared God and saved life, who defied tyranny and trusted the Almighty, who risked everything and found that God is faithful to preserve and reward those who choose Him over every earthly power.
For in the end, the Pharaohs of this world pass into dust, but those who fear God and do righteousness remain forever in His household, that eternal house which He has prepared for all who love Him more than life itself.
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