Seven Promises and a Family Tree.
Exodus 6 — God makes seven unstoppable promises to a people too broken to hear them
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The Israelites were so crushed by slavery they couldn't even receive good news — showing how prolonged suffering can make you unable to absorb the very hope that could save you.
Chapter 5 ended badly. had gone to [](#person:Pharaoh@chapter-6-seven-promises-and-a-family-tree) with God's message, and didn't just say no — he made everything worse. More work, fewer resources, and now the were blaming Moses for the whole mess. Moses went back to God essentially saying, "Why did you even send me?"
This chapter is God's answer. And it's not a gentle pat on the back. It's a full-on declaration of who he is, what he's about to do, and why none of this is up for negotiation. But here's what makes this chapter fascinating — even after God speaks, things don't immediately click. The people can't hear it. Moses doesn't believe it. And right in the middle of the action, the text pauses for a genealogy. Stay with it. There's a reason for all of it.
God's response to frustration was immediate — and it wasn't defensive. It was confident. Almost like he'd been waiting for this moment:
"Now you'll see what I'm about to do to Pharaoh. With a powerful hand, he will send them out. With a powerful hand, he will drive them out of his land."
Catch that shift? God didn't say "I'll convince ." He said Pharaoh will be so overwhelmed that he'll physically push out the door. The man who refused to let them leave a single day off will be shoving them toward the exit. God wasn't promising a negotiation. He was promising a total reversal.
What comes next is worth slowing down for. God spoke to and laid out his identity, his history, and his plan — all at once:
"I am the LORD. I appeared to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob as God Almighty, but by my name 'the LORD' I did not make myself fully known to them. I established my Covenant with them — to give them the land of Canaan, the land where they lived as foreigners. And now I have heard the groaning of the people of Israel whom the Egyptians hold as slaves, and I have remembered my Covenant."
Then came the — seven of them, back to back, each one beginning with "I will":
"Say to the people of Israel: I am the LORD, and —
I will bring you out from under the burden of the Egyptians. I will deliver you from slavery to them. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with great acts of judgment. I will take you to be my people. I will be your God. I will bring you into the land I swore to give to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. I will give it to you as a possession. I am the LORD."
Seven promises. Not suggestions. Not possibilities. Declarations. And notice the structure — it starts with rescue (out from under the burden), moves through (with an outstretched arm), lands on relationship (I will be your God, you will be my people), and finishes with destination (I will bring you into the land). That's the entire arc of the Bible in seven sentences. God rescues, redeems, relates, and restores. Every time.
The bookends matter too. He opens with " the LORD" and closes with " the LORD." This isn't a proposal. It's a done deal backed by the character of someone who cannot lie.
Here's the gut punch:
delivered every word of this to the people of . Seven from the God of their ancestors. A rescue plan backed by his own name. And their response?
They didn't listen. Not because they didn't want to — because they couldn't. Their spirits were crushed and the was too harsh. They were too beaten down to process .
Think about that. Have you ever been in a season so heavy that even couldn't land? Someone tells you it's going to be okay and you hear the words but they just bounce off? That's what was happening here. Suffering doesn't just hurt your body. It can make your heart unable to receive the very thing that could save you.
So God pivoted. He told Moses:
"Go tell Pharaoh, king of Egypt, to let the people of Israel go."
And Moses pushed back:
"The people of Israel haven't even listened to me. How is Pharaoh going to listen? I can barely speak."
It's a fair point, honestly. If your own people won't hear you, why would the most powerful man in the region? But God didn't argue with the logic. He simply gave Moses and their orders — a charge concerning both the and : bring the people of out of . Period.
Sometimes God's response to your objections isn't a counterargument. It's just a restatement of the assignment.
Right here, in the middle of the action, the narrative hits pause for a genealogy. If you've ever skimmed one of these sections, you're not alone. But this one is doing something very specific.
(Quick context: Ancient genealogies weren't just family records. They were proof of legitimacy. This is the text showing its work — establishing exactly who and are and why they have the authority to stand before .)
The list starts with first two sons — and — then zeroes in on the third: [](#person:Levi@the-family-tree-that-explains-everything). Because that's the line that matters here.
sons were , , and . Levi lived 137 years. sons were Amram, , , and . lived 133 years.
Then the key connection: Amram married Jochebed, his sister, and she bore him Aaron and Moses. Amram lived 137 years.
The genealogy keeps going — Izhar's sons (including , who would later become infamous ), Uzziel's sons, Aaron's marriage to Elisheba (daughter of , sister of ), and the sons she bore him: , , , and . Then Eleazar married one of the daughters of Putiel, and she bore him .
Why does this matter? Because the text is drawing a straight line. These aren't random guys off the street who decided to walk into Pharaoh's palace and demand the release of an entire enslaved nation. They come from a specific family, in a specific tribe, with a specific history. When God chose his spokespeople, he wasn't being arbitrary. He was working through a family he'd been building for generations.
It's like when someone tells you a crazy story and you ask, "Wait — who are these people?" The Bible just answered that question.
The genealogy wraps up with an almost cinematic re-introduction:
These are the and to whom the LORD said:
"Bring the people of Israel out of Egypt by their divisions."
It was these two who spoke to , king of , about bringing out. This Moses and this Aaron. The text is practically underlining their names. Not someone else. Not legendary figures from a distant past. These specific, real, flawed human beings standing right here.
And then the chapter circles back to where it started. On the day the LORD spoke to Moses in Egypt, he said:
"I am the LORD. Tell Pharaoh, king of Egypt, everything I say to you."
And Moses said — again:
"I can barely speak. Why would Pharaoh listen to me?"
Same objection. Same insecurity. Same doubt. The chapter ends exactly where it began — with Moses feeling inadequate for the assignment God keeps giving him.
And honestly? Most of us have said the same thing. God makes massive . You believe them in theory. But when it's time to actually walk into the room and open your mouth, everything in you says "I'm not the right person for this." Moses felt that — twice in one chapter. God's answer wasn't to find someone more confident. It was to keep sending Moses anyway. Your inadequacy was never a disqualifier. It was the whole point.