The River Turns to Blood

Exodus 7:20–25 (NASB95)

20So Moses and Aaron did even as the LORD had commanded. And he lifted up the staff and struck the water that was in the Nile, in the sight of Pharaoh and in the sight of his servants, and all the water that was in the Nile was turned to blood. 21The fish that were in the Nile died, and the Nile became foul, so that the Egyptians could not drink water from the Nile. And the blood was through all the land of Egypt. 22But the magicians of Egypt did the same with their secret arts; and Pharaoh’s heart was hardened, and he did not listen to them, as the LORD had said. 23Then Pharaoh turned and went into his house with no concern even for this. 24So all the Egyptians dug around the Nile for water to drink, for they could not drink of the water of the Nile. 25Seven days passed after the LORD had struck the Nile.

Commentary – The River Turns to Blood

There is a moment in Exodus 7 where everything changes. Moses and Aaron do exactly as Yahweh instructs, Aaron raises his staff over the waters of Egypt, and the Nile turns to blood. The fish die. The river stinks. The Egyptians cannot drink from it. And Pharaoh walks back into his palace without giving it a second thought. Can you see the raw evil that describes Pharaoh through this event? 

That detail is worth sitting with for a moment. 

The text tells us in verse 23 that Pharaoh turned and went into his house and did not take even this to heart. He apparently had access to water through other means, and the catastrophe unfolding around him simply did not concern him. Notice what is missing from the story: any expression of worry about where his people would find water to drink. The population of Egypt is reeling from a devastating plague, and the man who is supposed to lead them shrugs and goes inside. This is the true face of darkness. It will tell you it is concerned about your well-being. It will present itself as a protector, a provider, a source of security and life. But when it costs something, when the pressure is on, the mask slips. Pharaoh did not care about the people. He cared about his own power and position, and the plague only threatened his pride, not his comfort. Darkness is always, at its core, self-serving. 

Now let us talk about the poetic justice woven into this particular plague, because it is remarkable. In the earlier chapters of Exodus, Pharaoh had ordered that Hebrew infant boys be thrown into the Nile. He essentially sacrificed those children to maintain his grip on power, and the river god he revered became an instrument of genocide. The Nile was not just a water source in Egyptian theology; it was sacred, a deity in its own right, a symbol of life and fertility and divine provision. Pharaoh had desecrated it with innocent blood. And now Yahweh turns it into blood. The river that swallowed Hebrew babies becomes blood before the eyes of all Egypt. There is no subtlety here. Yahweh is making a direct and unmistakable statement: the blood that was shed has not been forgotten. The very thing Pharaoh used as a weapon of oppression is now turned against him. This is divine justice operating with surgical precision, and it is breathtaking when you see it clearly. 

Some commentators and scholars have attempted to explain the plagues of Exodus through natural phenomena. For the Nile turning to blood, theories have included red algae blooms, high concentrations of sediment during flood season, or other environmental factors that could produce a reddish discoloration in the water. These explanations are worth knowing about, but they ultimately fall short of accounting for what the text actually describes. The issue is not merely chemical. The fish died. The smell was overwhelming. The water was undrinkable across the entire land, not in one region but everywhere. And it lasted approximately a week, as verse 25 indicates. More importantly, explaining the mechanism does not explain the timing, the scope, or the theological meaning of the event. Yahweh did not simply predict a natural occurrence. He directed it, shaped it, and used it to speak. Even if one were to grant a natural component to the plague, the hand of God behind it is what gives it its character as a miracle. Attempts to strip the supernatural out of the text strip the meaning out along with it. 

Then there are the magicians. This is a fascinating and often under appreciated part of the story. The Egyptian magicians were able to duplicate what Moses and Aaron did, producing their own version of the sign. And Pharaoh seized on this as confirmation that nothing extraordinary had happened. If his own court technicians could replicate the feat, surely it was simply a matter of skill and craft rather than the intervention of a superior God. But here is the critical point: the magicians could copy the sign, but they could not undo it. They could not reverse the plague. They could not turn the blood back into water. They could not deliver Egypt from what Yahweh had done. All they managed to do was add to the problem, producing more blood in a land that already could not find clean water to drink. There is something deeply telling about that. The powers of darkness can sometimes imitate what God does, and that imitation can be convincing enough to keep a hardened heart from recognizing the truth. But imitation is not the same as authority. The magicians had no power over Yahweh's work. They could perform their tricks, but they could not set the people free. 

For those of us reading this today, there is more here than ancient history. We live in a world that is very good at mimicking the things of God while having no actual power to deliver. Institutions, ideologies, leaders, and systems will present themselves as sources of hope and salvation, and some of them can put on a convincing show. But the test is not whether something can put on a performance; the test is whether it can actually set you free. Can it deal with the deepest problems of your life? Can it address what is broken at the root? When the pressure comes, does it turn and go back into the house like Pharaoh, or does it stay and fight for you? Yahweh is not one option among many. He is the One whose work cannot be undone, whose power arrives with precision, and whose care for His people is not contingent on what it costs Him. The plagues of Egypt are not just a story about the past. They are a revelation of who God is, and that revelation has not changed. He sees the blood that has been shed. He sees the oppression. He does not forget. And when He moves, nothing in heaven or on Earth will be able to stop Him. 

In His Service, 

Ryan Goodnight