Moses and the Plagues of Egypt Bible story for kids

"No."

That was Pharaoh's answer. Hard as stone. Cold as iron. Every time Moses walked into that golden throne room and said, "Let my people go," the answer was always the same.

No.

Pharaoh leaned forward on his throne and sneered. "Who is the Lord, that I should obey His voice? I do not know this God of yours. And I will not let Israel go."

Outside the palace, God's people — the Israelites — were slaves. They hauled bricks in the burning sun. They mixed mud and straw until their hands cracked and bled. Their backs ached. Their children cried. And every night, under the dark Egyptian sky, they whispered the same aching question. Did God hear them? Did God see them?

And God did hear them. Every whisper. Every cry. Every prayer that rose like smoke into the night.

That is why a bush had burned in the desert without ever burning up. That is why God sent Moses.

Moses stood before Pharaoh again. He was tall, with sun-weathered skin and steady eyes. His brother Aaron stood beside him. And in Moses' hand was a wooden staff — just an old shepherd's stick. But God had plans for that stick.

"Let my people go," Moses said.

Pharaoh yawned.

So Moses nodded to Aaron, and Aaron stretched his staff over the great River Nile — the river that all of Egypt depended on for water, for fish, for life itself.

And the water turned to blood.

The fish died. The river stank. No one in Egypt could drink from it. Up and down the land, people dug holes in the ground, hunting for water that was clean.

But Pharaoh? Pharaoh turned on his golden heel and walked back into his palace. He didn't even flinch.

"No," he said.

Seven days passed. The river slowly cleared. And Moses came back.

"Let my people go."

"No."

So Aaron stretched his staff over the rivers and the ponds and the streams. And up came the frogs.

Oh, the frogs. Now listen carefully, because this part is something else.

These were not cute little pond frogs sitting politely on lily pads. These frogs were everywhere. They hopped into the palace. They hopped into the kitchens. They plopped into the bread bowls where the bakers were kneading their dough — squish, squish, right in the middle of breakfast!

They jumped into the ovens. Can you imagine opening your oven to check on your bread, and a frog jumps out at you? They leaped into people's beds. Egyptians pulled back their blankets at night and — ribbit! — there sat a fat, wet frog, blinking up at them.

Frogs in your shoes. Frogs in your hat. Frogs on the throne. Frogs on the cat. Frogs on Pharaoh's golden plate right next to his dinner.

Even Pharaoh couldn't take it.

"Fine!" he shouted, waving frogs off his lap. "Pray to your God! Make them stop! And I will let your people go!"

Moses prayed. And God answered. The frogs died — in the houses, in the courtyards, in the fields. The Egyptians piled them up in great, stinking heaps.

But when Pharaoh saw that the frogs were gone... he changed his mind.

"No," he said. Again.

And so it went. Again and again and again.