Exodus Chapter 10 – A Commentary & Bible-Study
Exodus Chapter 10 – A Commentary & Bible-Study
Exodus 10, I feel like the room gets a little heavy, like air thickening before a storm. This chapter ain’t calm. It’s a clash—Pharaoh’s stubborn heart against the Lord’s sovereign will. And when I say “stubborn,” the Hebrew word in this chapter is חָזַק (ḥazaq), meaning “to be strong, to harden, to fortify.” It’s the same root used earlier, and it’s intense. More like Pharaoh stiffened his neck, you know, like a mule refusing to move even when the reins pulling.
In the Greek Septuagint, the word often used is σκληρύνω (sklērýnō), meaning “to harden, to make harsh.” That word gives the sense of something becoming rough, like skin cracking in cold winds. Pharaoh’s heart ain’t soft clay, shaped by divine mercy—it becomes stone.
And so we get to Plague Eight and Nine: locusts and darkness, two of the most devastating scenes in the whole narrative.
So, let’s just walk through this chapter verse by verse, a bit like someone taking a slow stroll through an old battlefield, noticing details, touching the stones, breathing the dust, feeling the echoes.
Verse 1 — “Go to Pharaoh…”
The chapter kicks off with the Lord telling Moses:
“Go in unto Pharaoh: for I have hardened his heart, and the heart of his servants…”
In Hebrew, “Go in” is בֹּא אֶל־פַּרְעֹה (bo el-Par‘oh). “Bo” literally means “come,” like God is already there in the space, saying, Come with Me into Pharaoh’s palace. Not “go alone.”
And God says He hardened their hearts “לְמַעַן שִׁתִּי אֹתֹתַי” — “so that I may set My signs.”
There’s a purpose here. Not chaos. Not randomness. Purpose.
The Greek uses ἵνα (hina), “so that,” which often signals divine intention in Scripture.
Honestly, the more I read it, the more I feel the tenderness behind the severity. God isn't just punishing Egypt; He's revealing Himself for generations.
Verse 2 — “Tell your son and your son’s son…”
This verse gives chills sometimes.
God says basically: “This story isn’t just for today—tell your kids.”
The Hebrew word for “son’s son” is בֶּן־בִּנְךָ (ben-binka), which means grandson, yep, but it emphasizes legacy. Like threads weaving through generations.
It also says הִתְעַלַּלְתִּי (hit‘allalti) meaning “how I mocked / dealt powerfully with Egypt.” It's a strong verb, almost confrontational. God is saying, “They resisted Me, but I showed them My hand.”
When I imagine this passed down at family fires, the smell of roasting grain, the warmth of the flames flickering on children's faces—this chapter feels alive.
Verses 3–4 — “How long will you refuse…”
Moses and Aaron go to Pharaoh again and deliver this fiery line:
“How long will you refuse to humble yourself before Me?”
“Humble” in Hebrew = עָנָה (‘anah) which actually means “to bow down, to bend low.”
Like bending a stubborn branch that just won’t bend.
In Greek: ταπεινόω (tapeinoō), same idea—lower yourself.
Then Moses warns:
“If you refuse… I will bring locusts.”
Egypt feared locusts like we fear wildfires or floods. They knew the sound of swarms—buzzing like thousands of rattles blending with the wind. A sound that gets under your skin.
Verses 5–6 — The Locust Description
This part is vivid:
“They shall cover the face of the earth…”
“Cover” = כָּסָה (kasah) meaning “to conceal completely.”
Not just a few bugs. A blanket of them.
The Greek says καλύψουσιν (kalypsousin) — “they will completely cover,” from kalypto (to hide, veil).
Moses even says:
“Your fathers have never seen such things.”
Imagine being in Pharaoh’s palace, hearing that. The smell of incense, the echo in tall marble halls, and Moses’ voice trembling maybe with divine fire. And Pharaoh’s jaw tightening. You can almost taste the tension.
Verse 7 — Pharaoh’s servants push back
Pharaoh’s officials say:
“How long shall this man be a snare?”
The Hebrew for “snare” is מוֹקֵשׁ (moqesh) — a trap that snaps shut unexpectedly.
They’re basically fed up. They know Egypt is falling apart.
Their voices probably cracked with frustration. Maybe some were sweating under those heavy linen garments. Egypt was bleeding, and Pharaoh was still locked up inside his ego.
Verses 8–11 — Negotiations
Pharaoh asks Moses:
“Who are they that shall go?”
Moses basically answers: “Everyone. Men, women, children, cattle. All.”
But Pharaoh snaps back:
“Let the men go…”
Meaning he is still trying to control God’s terms.
The Hebrew word for “men” here = הַגְּבָרִים (ha-gvarim) meaning specifically adult males, not the whole community.
This wasn’t surrender—just stalling.
And Moses is driven out of the palace. I imagine the doors slammed behind him, the sound echoing like a warning.
Verses 12–15 — The Locust Plague Hits
The Lord tells Moses to stretch out his hand.
The Hebrew term for the east wind is רוּחַ קָדִים (ruach qadim) — ruach meaning “wind, breath, spirit.”
The Greek uses ἄνεμος (anemos) for wind.
That wind blew all day and all night. I like to imagine the grit hitting the tents, the dryness in the throat, the dust sticking to skin. Then, in the morning—locusts.
Verse 15 says:
“They covered the whole earth…”
Same “kasah”—concealing everything.
And it says they “darkened the land.”
Not just metaphorically. Locust swarms are known to block sunlight. You hear them moving like waves, feel them hitting your clothes, smell the crushed insects under sandals.
“And they ate every herb…”
Hebrew אֶת־כָּל־עֵשֶׂב (kol esev) — every plant.
No green thing remained.
Egypt’s wealth—gone. Crunched between tiny jaws.
Verses 16–17 — Pharaoh Finally Cracks… a Little
He calls Moses in haste. That Hebrew word וַיְמַהֵר (vay’maher) means “he hurried, rushed anxiously.”
Pharaoh is panicking now.
He says:
“I have sinned…”
The Greek word is ἥμαρτον (hēmarton) — same root for “sin” in the New Testament.
But his repentance is thin. Like someone apologizing because they got caught, not because they changed.
He begs Moses:
“Entreat the Lord your God…”
Notice “your God.” Not mine. Pharaoh still keeps distance.
Verses 18–19 — God Removes the Locusts
Moses prays.
The Lord sends a west wind (רוּחַ יָם).
Just like wind blew them in, another wind sweeps them into the Red Sea.
Not a single locust left.
When God removes, He removes completely.
When He judges, He judges completely.
Verse 20 — Pharaoh’s Heart Hardened Again
Same cycle.
Pharaoh hardens.
God strengthens the hardening.
Resistance deepens.
It hits me sometimes how human that is. People can see miracles, warnings, mercy, but pride can still lock the door.
Verses 21–23 — Plague Nine: Darkness
Now the atmosphere shifts.
No warning this time.
God says:
“Stretch out thy hand… that there may be darkness over the land of Egypt, even darkness which may be felt.”
“Darkness that can be felt” — in Hebrew חֹשֶׁךְ אֲפֵלָה (choshekh aphelah).
Choshekh = darkness, obscurity.
Aphelah = thick, heavy darkness.
In Greek: σκότος ψηλαφητόν (skotos psēlaphēton) — darkness that can be touched.
Imagine that.
A darkness pressing on your skin like cold cloth.
A silence swallowing sound.
No fire catching flame.
No lamp giving light.
Verse 23 says:
“They saw not one another…”
The Hebrew לֹא־רָאוּ (lo-ra’u) means total absence of sight.
Three days of blindness.
But Israel?
It says “all the children of Israel had light in their dwellings.”
Hebrew: אוֹר (or) — light, clarity, presence.
While Egypt choking in darkness, Israel is sitting with lamps burning, maybe cooking supper, kids laughing. It’s a powerful contrast. A testimony.
Verses 24–26 — Pharaoh’s Last Negotiation Attempt
Pharaoh says:
“Go… only leave your flocks and herds.”
Still bargaining. Still trying to keep a piece of control.
Moses answers firmly:
“Not a hoof shall be left behind.”
Hebrew פַּרְסָה (parsah) — hoof.
Not even one.
Because worship must be total, not partial.
Verse 27 — God Hardens Pharaoh Again
The Hebrew phrase וַיְחַזֵּק (vayechazek) from ḥazaq again—strengthening, hardening.
Sometimes judgment is allowing someone to keep walking the path they already love, even if it leads to ruin.
Verses 28–29 — Pharaoh’s Final Threat
Pharaoh says:
“Get thee from me… the day you see my face, you shall die!”
The Greek uses ἀπόστηθι (apostēthi) — “depart, stand away from me.”
It’s dramatic, angry, but also desperate.
Moses answers:
“You have spoken well, I will see your face no more.”
Cold. Final.
A divine door closing.
This chapter ends like a deep breath held before the final blow—the death of the firstborn in Exodus 11 and 12. Everything’s leading there. You can feel the tremble of things about to break.
Themes That Rise Out of Exodus 10
Let me just draw a few threads from all this, kind of like someone thinking aloud, scribbling in the margins of their Bible.
1. Pride blinds.
Pharaoh’s ego blocks his sight even when darkness falls around him.
He sees evidence of God but refuses humility.
2. Judgment is merciful when it reveals truth.
The plagues weren’t random violence. They exposed false gods.
In Hebrew thought, God reveals Himself through action—signs and wonders.
3. God makes distinctions.
Israel had light.
Egypt had darkness.
Choosing God brings clarity even when the world grows dim.
4. Legacy matters.
“Tell your sons.”
Faith is generational.
Stories shape souls.
5. God’s sovereignty is not hindered by human stubbornness.
Pharaoh’s resistance becomes the very theater for God’s power.
A More Personal Reflection
Honestly, Exodus 10 sometimes hits a bit too close. There are moments I feel like Pharaoh—digging my heels in when life pushing me to surrender something. And sometimes I’ve felt the locusts, figuratively. Seasons where everything green disappearing. Times where darkness kinda presses on the skin, even in daylight.
But then there is that Israel-light promise.
Light in the dwellings of God’s people.
Light that doesn’t depend on environment but Presence.
I love how the Hebrew word אוֹר (or), “light,” is the same word used back in Genesis 1 when God said, “Let there be light.” That light wasn’t sun or stars—it was Himself. His reality. His touch.
Maybe that’s still true now.
Closing Thoughts
Exodus 10 is like a slow drumbeat before a finale.
Locusts chewing up pride.
Darkness swallowing illusion.
A king refusing to bow.
A God refusing to abandon His people.
And through it all, Hebrew and Greek help show layers:
-
ḥazaq / sklērynō — hardening
-
choshekh aphelah / skotos psēlaphēton — darkness felt
-
kasah / kalypto — covering
-
or / phōs — light
It’s ancient. It’s poetic.
It tastes like dust and fire and hope.
And somehow, even with the heaviness, it leaves a strange warmth—like God is whispering through the ages:
“I am here.
I see.
I deliver.
And no darkness, no Pharaoh, no locust… can stop My plan.”
