Part of my own Exodus   1 comment

In the second thru fifth books of the Bible, we read about how the Israelites left Egypt, wandered through the desert, and were brought into the Promised Land and finally settled down.  It is an epic true story – filled with all those human things that are still with us today.  Sin.  Rebellion.  Worship.  Love.  Killing.  Plagues.  Whining.  Complaining.  Compassion.  Acts of God.  Miracles. 

The Jews — the chosen people of God — dragged their feet, complaining and whining and looking back, all through the 40 year journey they took through the desert.  And most of us are no different today.  Certainly I am not!

Coming up soon will be the day my son would have been 30.  He was killed 12 years ago, so to everyone but perhaps me and his father he will forever be 18.  But I still think of what he might have been.  What he could have been.  How our relationship would be, was he alive and turning 30.  Every year that comes brings me another year further from when I last saw him and talked with him.  It is said that time heals all wounds, and it is true I have been healed of the horrible aching emptiness and loss that racked me for years after he was killed.  But ….. the sense of loss, the looking back, the feeling that something is missing — has never left.  I think about him, want to talk to him, miss him.

One of the things an exasperated God kept telling the Israelites as they wandered was “Remember, but don’t look back”.  God didn’t want His people to forget what they had in Egypt.  Nor the way they had been treated in Egypt.  He didn’t want them to forget that awesome journey through the walls of water when He parted the Red sea, or the way water sprang from a rock (a rock!) when they had cried out to Him how thirsty they were.  No, they were not told to forget, nor were they expected to.  But — God said — don’t look back.  Keep moving. 

So I am on my own Exodus.  With all my own times of rebellion and whining and feet-dragging, but also joy and worship and peace and oasis refreshing.  I am on a journey.  To a time and place I can’t see, that is far from my days of motherhood and seeing and talking with my son every day.  And God promises to be with me on that journey.  He has already been faithful in thousands of different ways, and I know He will be until the end of the journey, whenever and wherever that may be.

Remember — but don’t turn back.  Keep moving forward.

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Posted March 7, 2012 by Maureen in Christian, Musings

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One response to “Part of my own Exodus

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