July 29, 2010

During the long, hot days of August we will spend our five Sundays together journeying with the Israelites through what was surely a much longer, hotter season of their lives.  During these weeks we are focusing attention on some of the pivotal episodes that took place during the exodus from Egypt that defined their life together.

Sunday morning finds us coming to the passage that gets the journey underway (Exodus 13:17-22).  How does a person, much less an entire nation of people, begin to pack up and pull out and move on from a place that had once been a safe haven and home?  How is it that things can go from so very good to so very bad without ever actually going anywhere?

Surely there were those who were asking questions like those when they were loading their belongings and making ready to back down the driveway and leave Egypt in the rearview mirror.  Once upon a time, Egypt had been home for them.  Egypt was the place where, thanks to the providential care of God and the cunning leadership of Joseph back in Genesis, the chosen children of Israel found a safe haven.  But, if you recall how the book of Exodus begins, then you remember that in the very first lines of the volume the narrator notes: “a new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph” (1:8).

Pharaoh not knowing Joseph carried a high cost for the Israelites.  Those who succeeded him for generations that came along later were left to suffer under the oppressive weight of a regime that cared more about building a bigger, better empire than the people who lived under its charge.  Those Hebrew children were left to bear the burden of an economic system that exploited them, abused them, and utterly oppressed them.

While the children of God were miserable, God was not – and is not – inactive.  If there is anything that the Bible points to consistently it is that God hears the cries of the oppressed.  God cannot not hear when one of God’s own is in need.  In the same way that parents are prompted to respond to their children, so also the Heavenly Parent hears the sounds of those who call out from under the oppressive burdens of life and moves to respond.

Herein is the good news of the Exodus story: God not only listens, but God also acts.  The children of Israel were not without their imperfections.  They were by no means ready to fully follow the ways of God.  They needed time and practice and a strong, guiding hand to lead them along the way.  Some of that came from God’s appointed leader, Moses.  But much of that came simply from a presence: the presence of the holy pillar of cloud and fire that reminded them they were not left to walk the path alone.

God persisted.  God stayed with them and remained faithful.  More than being a unique, once-upon-a-time sort of event to have occurred, though, that is something that continues to hold true even now.  God does not relent.  At the outset of the journey up from Egypt and toward Canaan, God leads.  God goes in front and behind.  God is present and active and engaged in what is going on.

And the same holds true today, too, doesn’t it?  Think back over your life and the moments where you have been at the edge of despair and utterly overwhelmed.  Now consider that you are where you are.  You are here, and you are here only because of the gracious, guiding, generous presence of God.

The words of the ancient Celtic blessing could well be those that the Hebrew people prayed as they packed their bags and made ready to move on.  The words might well be our own as we journey along the twisting, turns paths of our own lives, too:

God to enfold me,
God to surround me,
God in my speaking,
God in my thinking.

God in my sleeping,
God in my waking,
God in my watching,
God in my hoping.

God in my life,
God in my lips,
God in my soul,
God in my heart.

God in my sufficing,
God in my slumber,
God in mine ever-living soul,
God in mine eternity.

Peace to you,
Stephen