Counted With the Stars (Out From Egypt, #1)

by Connilyn Cossette

Shira’s stories, of her people and her God, were like wild honey. They had the curious effect of making me hunger for more, and I did not want to wait long for another taste.

Where were the gods? Hapi had not protected the Nile, Heket had not controlled the frogs, Geb had not staunched the flow of lice, Kehpri did nothing to keep the flies from the land, Ptah and Hathor ignored the pleas to protect our livestock, sacrifices to Isis seemed to only aggravate the boils, and Set seemed to have no control over the angry storms and failed to protect our crops. We would starve—all the gold in the land could not prevent widespread death from the famine and disease that would now ensue. Had the gods fled Egypt with the birds, or was this Hebrew god, this Yahweh, more powerful than all of them? Did he have such power over the world that even the storms and the beasts obeyed his command?

“Because we cut a covenant with Yahweh, one marked by the spilling of innocent blood, we were spared from the judgment.”

“Perhaps Adonai chose Mosheh to show us all this is not about Mosheh, but about Yahweh.”

But here at the bottom of the sea, freedom beckoned, pulling me farther away from my chains. The tether that had seemed to bind me to Egypt had been severed by the breath of Yahweh.

But this god called Elohim, or Yahweh as I now knew him, asked for sacrifice not to please himself or to be appeased, but as a gift to his people, to cover their sins.

Yahweh could not be contained in an image, that his glory outweighed all the gold on the earth, that a mere piece of wood or stone carving could never capture the perfection and majesty of his being. Suddenly this made sense. The idols of Egypt were creations of human hands to worship gods that could be controlled and manipulated. I would never again worship such as those.

I believe that Yahweh did not just speak creation into existence. I believe he sang it into existence. Sometimes when I am alone, playing the lyre and singing, I feel as though he is singing with me. I am working together with the One who made the stars to create something new.”

Yahweh had brought me here into the wilderness to free me, to show me how to leave my idols behind, and to meet the man I would spend my life with. Yahweh cared enough to bring me out of slavery and ignorance, protect me in the desert, and to reveal himself to me in a tent during the middle of a battle. The God who parted the sea could surely mend the rift in my heart.

The Voice broke me into a million pieces, but the girls were enraptured. In fact, all of the children were looking up, their faces bright with the same fierce joy. They were not afraid of the Voice; they must hear something in it that I could not understand. The Voice sent splinters of fear shredding through my veins, but I ached for it at the same time. I could not reconcile the confusing emotions. The Voice spoke again. This time, the words filled my senses. They hung shimmering, as though written in the air, visible and musical—a song far more beautiful than human words could describe. And the fragrance . . . How could words have a smell? But they did, and it was the sweetest and loveliest smell to ever be imagined.

Yes, there were consequences for our disobedience, but the promises far outweighed them.

“I think Yahweh is creating something new from our broken pieces.” I slid my hand around the back of his neck and drew him close to me. “Perhaps he is writing a new song.”