“Reflecting Her Story” is a bi-weekly series of reflections on the stories of biblical women and the ways they model lives of character, boldness, faith and ministry for women today.
“Then the prophet Miriam, Aaron’s sister, took a tambourine in her hand; and all the women went out after her with tambourines and with dancing. And Miriam sang to them: ‘Sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously; horse and rider he has thrown into the sea.’” (Exodus 15:20-21)
From girlhood, Miriam seems to have been attuned to the workings of Yahweh. She watched her mother shaping the watertight basket with papyrus and mud–learning by observation, as we all do, what it means to take care of another, what it means to trust the Lord, what it costs to love beyond hope.
She followed along the river’s way as the baby’s basket took its course, and she was ready with a confident word of help when the unprepared princess lifted the squalling Moses from the reeds.
But then, through the next fourteen chapters of Exodus, Miriam virtually disappears. She is apparently behind the scenes as Moses marries, encounters the I AM of the flaming shrubbery, joins up with Aaron to confront the Pharaoh, performs some signs and wonders, ushers in the plagues, gives the first Passover instructions, and leads the Hebrew people out of slavery.
Yet, it is hard to believe that Miriam was actually silent all that time. When she reappears in the scripture’s account–after the Israelites have escaped slavery and crossed into freedom, after the Egyptian army has been stopped in its watery tracks–Miriam isn’t just the eldest daughter or the big sister anymore. She is given a title: prophet. The little girl who watched over her baby brother’s aquatic journey is now grown up, now a herald of God’s work in the world, now a leader of the community of women, now a cantor lifting her voice in praise of the Most High.
Daughter. Sister. Guardian. Yes.
Silent partner? Perhaps.
But finally: Musician. Liturgist. Prophet.
Even in our times of silence, even when we sense that we’re waiting behind the scenes while all the “real” action goes on without us, we are being shaped to step up into place. Our story goes on (even if the chapters that are written don’t mention it), and even through the so-called silent times we grow up, and grow into prophets. We grow into pastors. We grow into leaders of praise to the One who sets us all free.
Nikki Finkelstein-Blair is an ordained Baptist minister, at-home mom, and military spouse living in San Antonio, Texas. She blogs at One Faithful Step and Ordinary Times.