My Egypt

I think I understand something. 

I understood it last night at the corner of Central and Riverside after something difficult happened and I wanted so badly to lose heart again and I told God so.

Let me give some context first.  I've sort of been on a journey with the Israelites lately, first through a book called The Land Between, then through reading about their journey in Numbers and Deuteronomy and hearing the story from God's perspective in Isaiah. There is no question the children of Israel had a rough time of it. Faced with the choice of faith or despair, they often chose the latter.  

I've been trying to put myself in their shoes.  Only I want to make a different choice than what they did.  I want to choose to trust God. In putting myself in their shoes, I needed to nail down exactly what my Promised Land is.  What is my land flowing with milk and honey? I'm sure there's a fancy theological answer to this question, but this is what I cam up with:

My promised land is God Will Not Rip Me Off.  

That is the promise I'm walking towards.  That's the promise I'm banking my life on.  He will not rip me off if I give Him my trust.   

So I figured out the first part of my Israel analogy.  

Fast forward to most recent disheartened moment last night when I felt ready to throw in the towel on this whole 'trust God' business.    

Then I figured out the second part to the Israel analogy.  If my promised land is God Will Not Rip Me Off, what is my Egypt?  For the Israelites, Egypt was oppression, despair, misery.  God delivered them from Egypt with a marvelous plan for their good, but they had to learn to trust Him along the way.  

So this is what I understood: If my promised land is God Will Not Rip Me Off, my Egypt is Abandoning Faith in Him. 

It's so simple, yet I feel like its the biggest truth I've ever understood.

What does it mean for right now? The desert is a place where I learn to trust Him. These circumstances that carry the heavy weight of disappointment are my hunger and thirst in the desert. They tempt me to say why did I ever trust God in the first place? Why did He lead me all this way to let this happen? Why doesn't He care about me? I might as well give up on hope and Him. That's what the Israelites did. That's what I've done so often over the years, not realizing that He has been carrying me in His arms like a father carries his child all the way I went (Deut.1).

I wish they had opened their hearts to Him even though they were sad and scared. Even though they were tired and wanted their time in the wilderness to be over more than anything. I wish they had turned their hearts and eyes towards Him. I wish they hadn't pushed Him away.

So that's what I want to do. If God allows me walk through hard stuff, He allows it in love. I will turn my heart and eyes to Him. I will not push Him away.      

The Phone Charger

I have a story to tell about how I saw God come through for me. 

Earlier this week, I was doing some homework when I got a call from my very pregnant sister who asked me if I might be able to take her to the hospital.  Um, yes.  She felt bad asking me because I live sort of far away but our mom was out of town, her husband was in bed with the flu, and baby Landon seemed eager to meet us in our disjointed state.  I couldn't think of anything I'd rather do than meet him too.  I grabbed a backpack, stuffed some essentials inside in case it turned out to be an overnight stay, and drove off toward the sunset.

I was on the 91 headed West, and as excited as I was about Landon potentially arriving, I was also anxious about the homework I had put on hold.  It didn't help matters much that I had already been anxious about homework before putting it on hold.  So the small change in plans for my Tuesday night required some out loud verbal processing to myself in my car of all that I had to get done for my classes over the next week and trying to get a grip on a plan of execution.    

Then I remembered what the Bible says.  "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."  Phil. 4:6,7

So I prayed.  "God, I offer these anxieties to You.  Hold me in your arms. Amen."

In my rush to pack my bag for the night, I remembered almost everything I needed.  Everything except my phone charger.  I thought I had more battery life left than I did and when I made it to the freeway I looked down and realized if I ended up staying the night, my phone would most certainly die.  I considered going back for the charger, but thought it better just to get to my sister.  And I added 'phone-will-die' to the list of anxieties I already told you about.  This was all before I prayed.  

Not more than two or three minutes after I prayed, I remembered something.  About fourteen months ago, when I purchased my phone, I received a handy car phone charger in the new phone box.  At that time, I took the handy car phone charger from the new phone box, stuck it in the very bottom of my console and left it there where it has sat neglected and forgotten these fourteen months.  Out of the clear blue sky last Tuesday on the 91 headed West, I remembered it was there.  And it worked.  

I couldn't help but smile.  OK, God.  I get it.  You're taking care of me.  You care about the little things and You will come through for me with the big things too. I drove the rest of way to the hospital fully confident in the goodness of my God and in His love for me. Confident that He will take care of me.        

This is a story of a phone charger.  And it's a story of how God came through for me.