One day, when Moses had grown up, he went out to his people and looked on their burdens, and he saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his people. He looked this way and that, and seeing no one, he struck down the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.
I didn’t always get along with my twin brother, Benjamin, growing up. We weren’t joined at the hip, so to speak. We often fought, often competed for dominance, and often brought each other to tears, sometimes to blows. But despite our differences, there’s one thing I knew and respected about Benjamin beyond any shadow of doubt. I knew that if anyone tried to hurt me or my sisters, they’d have him to reckon with. I still remember being in second grade, waiting in the carpool line at Wiley Elementary School, looking down the outdoor staircase and seeing some kid tease my sister, Candace, and, in a flash, Benjamin was down the steps pushing that bully into a rose bush. Fast forward a decade, to a more humorous occasion in college, where, during an indoor soccer match, Benjamin sat on the sidelines with a sprained, bandaged ankle, holding crutches in hand, and I played up the field as a striker waiting for the ball. During a throw-in, the short defender who guarded me clipped my heels from behind, did absolutely no damage, and I turned with a smirk to say something smart aleck, when I suddenly heard a roar bellow from across the field—“Hey! Get off my brother!”—and then turned to see Benjamin hobbling onto the field with his crutches! For all his faults, for all his recklessness, he was a fighter in the best sense. The kind who doesn’t stand by to watch as a brother or sister gets hurt. The kind you need with you in the trenches. The kind you follow into battle because you know he ain’t leaving you behind. And that’s Moses, friend. He’s reckless, yes, and brash, but he’s exactly the sort of man you’d expect to stand face to face with the biggest bully in the world and say without blinking an eye, “Let my brothers go!”
He’ll just need to learn to trade his sword for a staff from here on out.