An Authorial Note
I wrote this piece last Summer (June 2020). I've been going back through some things I've written and reflections I've made in order to better process the last year. At this time, we were three months into the Pandemic (how cute right?!) and there was a lot of uncertainty in the world (if you can remember). Personally, I was rapidly approaching the end of unlooked for divorce proceedings and all the existential pain, guilt, and shame associated with that. I had to figure out a way to explain inexplicable things to my girls and move forward into the unknown of my future. I was in the wilderness and I couldn't see the end. I think it's safe to say this may have been the lowest point in my life to date. In this wilderness, I found that God was a steady and consistent presence, even if only a Cloud by day and Flame by night...he was there. I can't speak for anyone else who writes, speaks, or teaches, but personally, I can see how my experiences come through in the writing. Perhaps you can now too. And perhaps we're all better for it. One of the valuable elements of personal reflection is that I can see the angst, worry, and fear facing this man in this moment (who was, in fact, me) and say now, "You made it! And your life is infinitely better than you could have imagined then." So now, when similar crises (but not the same, please God) arise, I can remember God's Faithfulness and Kindness and find the strength to move forward. As another preface, I've updated the language in this article to make it more relevant to our present moment.
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“This is the Moses who told the Israelites, ‘God will raise up for you a prophet like me from your own people.’ He was in the assembly in the wilderness, with the angel who spoke to him on Mount Sinai, and with our ancestors; and he received living words to pass on to us. “But our ancestors refused to obey him. Instead, they rejected him and, in their hearts, turned back to Egypt.” (Acts 7:37–39, NIV)
The desert (i.e. the wilderness) is a hard place to live. Does anyone really want to go there? Maybe you’re a desert person, I don’t know. But speaking personally, I would rather avoid the desert. I’d rather avoid it, because the desert is a miserable place. It’s dry (almost all the time) so there is virtually no water and no food. It’s exposed – there’s no shelter. It’s often too hot during the day and too cold during the night.
We don’t usually want to go to the desert. It’s uncomfortable. And no one likes to be consistently uncomfortable. But the desert is important. Because for some reason, the proverbial spiritual desert is where God often does his best work in us. I think there’s a few reasons for it, but basically, it’s this: in the desert, we know we’re not in charge. In the desert, I need a provider, a protector, a shield. So, in the desert I face a choice.
The choice is really simple in some ways, incredibly complex in others. In a place of emptiness and lack, I can choose to trust the provision and protection and sufficiency of the unseen God or I can choose the short-sighted certainty of Egypt.
The tricky thing about Egypt is that, in some ways, I don’t remember it being all that bad. I tend to remember the ok (not great) stuff – the ample food, the consistent work schedule, the clear hierarchy, plenty of water, and did I mention the food?
It seems so appealing right? Why not just turn back? Why not just go back to Egypt and get on with the way things used to be?
This short passage from the book of Acts falls to us from a speech that the first martyr of the church, Stephen (great name by the way) made before the Sanhedrin moments before his execution. What really hits me today is that very last line about the people of Israel when they were in the desert – they rejected Moses (and God) “and, in their hearts, turned back to Egypt.”
Except going back to Egypt wasn’t an option. Seriously, there was no going back. The Egypt they remember (if it ever really existed as they remembered) was gone.
I think the reason this hits home for me is because I feel like many of us have been in a desert season. I could be off base here, but I don’t think so. With all the events of the last 14 months (quarantines and vaccines and death piled alongside the social and political turmoil in our country); the land feels dry and exposed and uncomfortable.
But in the desert, I face a choice. And so do you. I can choose to turn back to Egypt in my heart (which isn’t really a viable option). Or, I can choose to trust the sufficiency of God as we march into an unseen and unknown future.
I think the last 14 months have really changed some things in our world. I don’t think I’m overstating it or exaggerating…the world isn’t going back to the way we remember it. All of which means that our future is uncertain. How will this affect our families and our churches? How will our country be affected socially, politically, spiritually, and economically? Right now, questions are plentiful but answers seem hard to come by. The truth is, there’s a lot that we don’t know.
But – and this is Good News – Jesus said, “Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.” (John 17:3, NIV)
In the desert, the realm of the unknown and uncertain, we can know Jesus in an intimate and relational way. We can walk with him and talk with him. He will bring living water from the rocks and provide daily bread on top of the dust. He will be a shady cloud by day and a warming pillar of fire by night.
In the desert, we face a choice: to trust the illusory promise of safety in a fictionalized Egypt or trust, as Corrie Ten Boom put it, an unknown future to a known God. In the desert, we must choose; we must choose when we can’t be certain and we just don’t know. And in the choice, our character is shaped and our hearts are prepared and enabled to receive the gift that lays ahead in the promised land. In the desert, we may not know how the future will turn out, but we can always choose the certainty of the sufficiency of Christ in any and every situation.
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