The Promised Land

            I had an extraordinary moment the other afternoon. And like most extraordinary events in our lives, it occurred in the midst of a very ordinary day, a day that began with me reading a devotion based on the Exodus story.

            It’s a story almost everyone knows, made popularly famous by director Cecil B. DeMille, and Charlton Heston portraying a man to whom he would be forever linked. The Exodus, the story of God freeing His people, the Israelites from the yoke of slavery and oppression in Egypt and leading them to “the promised land.” It is an amazing story of plagues, the Passover, and the drying of the waters momentarily to allow the Israelites to escape. It is a remarkable story remembered each spring in Jewish homes around the world as they gather at the Seder and they remember the Lord, their God.

            Life in here ebbs and flows for me. There are – surprisingly – very joyous, happy times. Then, there are times of immense loneliness and difficulty. Those times of great ebbs have, thankfully, come less and less frequently. A year ago, I was in one of those ebbs. At one of those dark points, a card arrived. There was no return address, but a local postmark. I thought I recognized the handwriting. The card was a beautiful, inspirational message of faith and hope. And there was a simple message: the sender was praying for me and she told me to maintain my faith. It was signed “Martha.”

            “Martha.” I knew no Marthas. I assumed Martha was an alias referencing the Biblical Martha whose brother Lazarus was raised from the dead by Jesus. That night I thanked God for the card and I thought of my old life …

            The Exodus. God calls on an exiled Israelite shepherd named Moses who had fled Egypt years earlier after killing an Egyptian soldier. Moses saw the burning bush and heard the voice of God, but Moses was afraid to go back, afraid to return; his faith, his understanding of the power of God, compelled him. God said, “I have heard the cries of My people.” And Moses trusted God, and the people followed Moses, and the Israelites left oppression and walked into the desert a free people.

            It must have been hard, you know, to leave what you know and go forward. There was fear and tears. The story of the Exodus records numerous times when the people of Israel questioned their decision to follow Moses. “Perhaps Pharaoh will appreciate us,” they remarked and the hurt and injustice they had felt for so many years gave way. The old days, the life they left, didn’t look so bad compared to what lay ahead, the unknown.

            Over the next six months, I received more cards from “Martha.” There were references to sermons she’d heard that reminded her of my plight, or a Bible reading about Paul in prison that would lead her to write and say “I’m praying for you.” I was so sure I knew who Martha was; and like the Israelites in the desert, I was so convinced things were so much better for me “back when.”

            I found myself playing “what if” the other day. What if the Israelites blogged about their experiences as they fled Egypt. Would Pharaoh have read the blog postings and been moved by their descriptions? Or would Pharaoh think everything written was about him? Would his blood boil, his anger erupt, as he read of the Israelites travails and think “I gave those people the best years of my life. How dare they!” See, that’s the thing with Pharaoh, God told Moses. Pharaoh’s heart was hardened. He couldn’t see the truth. His own ego prevented him from understanding the pain, and hurt, and damage he’d done to the Israelites.

            The people of Israel wandering in the desert hoped Pharaoh would now see their worth. They dreamt of Pharaoh accepting them as his own and acknowledging that their toils, their efforts, were appreciated. But that wasn’t Pharaoh; and that was why the people had to move on.

            And we know what happens. It takes forty years of wandering in the desert for the people of Israel to humble their heart and their minds to God and realize Pharaoh’s respect, Pharaoh’s appreciation, Pharaoh’s love, wasn’t needed. They were children of God. Pharaoh didn’t love them the way their God did.

            “I’m sorry I haven’t sent you any cards in the last few months, but I have prayed for you every day.” I looked at her and said, “You’re Martha?” She told me my stories touched her, but my outlook gave her hope. She told me people she worked with knew me in my prior life. “They said you were the nicest guy they’d met. Never say no to anyone. And, they felt so bad for you.”

            I had been wrong about who Martha was. Like the Israelites, I too had hoped my Pharaoh would realize what I was enduring walking through this desert. But, that isn’t in Pharaoh’s heart. Sometimes, forty years in the desert turns out to be almost six years behind bars. And God, in that time, teaches you that He is your shelter from the storm; He is there when, as David wrote, “a host of enemies encamp against me.” Throughout those forty years the people of Israel clung to the hope that Pharaoh missed them, that Pharaoh worried about the dangers they faced, the struggles they overcame. But Pharaoh frankly only cared about himself and what he had after the Israelites left.

            The Exodus story isn’t about Pharaoh changing. Pharaoh doesn’t change. The Exodus story is about a people, you and me, realizing Pharaoh’s heart has always been hard and about Pharaoh putting himself first. And there is no turning back. You go forward into the unknown trusting in God, and you head to the Promised Land.

            The funny thing about the Exodus story is that for Pharaoh the story was an end, but for the Israelites it was the beginning. I thought about how much time I’d wasted waiting, hoping, worrying about Pharaoh instead of looking forward to the Promised Land.

            I heard a song on the radio and realized it could have been sung by the Israelites – or me – in the wilderness:

            “I’m giving up on you

I’m sorry I couldn’t get through

            To you.”

            And I’ll hear those words all the way to the Promised Land.