The Exodus

[Take a moment to reflect on your own anxieties in light of the Israelites' experience in Exodus 14]

Rushing, carrying babies, driving livestock, looking over shoulders at the army pursuing. How far will they chase us? Keep following God – He keeps leading us – it seems like victory is the Lord’s! He’s doing it! He’s saving us! We’re on our way to a land flowing with milk and honey; an inheritance from God – life is good – our children will have a better life than us – just keep following God – things are working out – keep our eyes on the cloud and the fire, keep putting one foot in front of the other and there is a reward in the end.

But the cloud is stopping. No! We can’t camp here, the enemy will overtake us – has God lead us to a dead-end sea? Where can we go? The torrential waves on one side, an angry army on the other, War trumpets sounding. Pressure building, stress mounting - tension increasing. Why are we pitching our tents with the enemy in hot pursuit? God, where have you lead us? Why have you taken me here? What about your promises? Has God blessed me so much in order to lead me to nothing? I can hear shouting – I can hear the clamor of armor, the drumming of horses’ hooves and the thunder of chariot wheels. The cracks of whips. The cries of war and pillaging swords ready to thrash - hands ready to snatch children and belongings.

I become suddenly aware of myself – Fear. Heart is heavier and its beating increases momentum. I can’t swallow and the moment stands still. I turn my head to see what is around me. With the crack of every whip I realize that all of this will be taken away. My children whom I’ve bathed and clothed coddled and soothed. The subject of so much hope of future – the objects of my love. A whip cracks. My head turns – I see sheep and goats. The work of my hands, the sweat of my brow. They represent the risks I’ve taken to build an inheritance for my children. Livestock are food, they are sacrifices for God. A whip cracks. My head turns…I see my wife, my beautiful pride and joy – generations nestled in her womb. A whip cracks and the enemy is closer to taking it all away. I will not be buried with my fathers in Egypt. I will not be buried with my sons in the promise land. I will be buried in the desert, in the middle of nowhere, in a pile of rubble created by the Egyptian war machine. No one will visit our graves. Is that why we’ve been brought here? So that there will be room to bury us all? Heart pounding, head spinning, hope ebbing away.

We need to follow God, but the cloud and fire have stopped. Wait, they are moving, over our heads, now behind us - between us and our enemies. Creating a barrier, shielding us for a time from the angry army. But will it last forever? I see God’s hand at work, but this ploy won’t last. A day, maybe two and our pursuers will burst through the cloud and destroy us.

Moses is motioning us to pack our tents, fold our clothes and stuff our bags, load our donkeys and pick up our children. I don’t get it. There’s no place to go…there’s no place…what is Moses doing? He’s raising his hands…wind begins to blow. Dust is flying in the air as the waters begin churning…I can’t believe…the crashing of waves against waives as the waters are driven apart and a corridor is carved through the sea.

Directly in front of our camp a path of dry sea floor stretches through a canyon with cliffs of water on either side. Moses motioning us to move forward. The staff of God in the hands of a man. Moses walking ahead of the camp – marching through the dark valley in faith. God, you want me to go out into the middle of that? My children, my livestock, my wife, my life – amidst millions of tons of bone-crushing water being suspended by what? You want me to go through this? God, if your going to lead us on, why don’t you lead us another way? Perhaps you could build a bridge over this torrent. I’ve seen that work before. What about a big boat? We could ferry across the sea to safety. I know a boat would work much better. Why on foot?

As we enter the chasm forged by the finger of God we are slow and timid. Like the huge fish on either side my head swims in circles. Why, God? Why this way? A trumpet sounds, the enemy army shouts, horses whinny, whips crack and the thunder begins. We start to run in fear. The barrier is gone and they are charging toward us in full force.

I knew it! We couldn’t even have the dignity of a desert burial in the middle of nowhere. We will be lost at the bottom of the sea, slaughtered by the Egyptians. No! What am I thinking? Not my children! Not my wife! We must press on. We must make it to the other side and then stand and fight like men. God, if you tell me to go through it, I’m going to go. We will make it to the other side.

The other side comes as the last of the Israelites climbs up the embankment on the other side. I look up and there is Moses with that staff raised high. A crashing sound and screams from the army. Not screams of battle, but screams of fear and confusion. And suddenly the loudest sound is a deathly silence as horses hooves no longer pound, the armor no longer clangs, the army no longer pursues. Our enemies no longer live. But our God, our God, our amazing God is still leading us onward! Toward hope, toward peace, toward safety, toward a land of promise...

Psalm 124
1A song of ascents. Of David.
If the LORD had not been on our side
—let Israel say—
2if the LORD had not been on our side
when men attacked us,
3when their anger flared against us,
they would have swallowed us alive;
4the flood would have engulfed us,
the torrent would have swept over us,
5the raging waters would have swept us away.
6Praise be to the LORD,
who has not let us be torn by their teeth.
7We have escaped like a bird
out of the fowler's snare;
the snare has been broken, and we have escaped.
8Our help is in the name of the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.