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.