The Exodus

The sun is suspended at its highest peak. It’s rays that where once welcomed in the cold of winter, are now burning the very skin I walk in.

Each step pulls the muscles tight in my calves, feeling as if the tendon will snap at any moment. The dust rises up as my foot stumbles against the parched ground. My lips crack as I pant. Sweat rolls like rain off my forehead, its saltiness stings my lips and eyes.

My destination is unknown. It is uncomfortably silent, except for the sound of my own heavy breathing.

I feel like I’ve been wandering, aimlessly in the desert a lot like the Israelites did. Except I do not see the pillar of fire and cloud. I do not hear the rumbling of the voice of God. Manna does not appear in the dew of the morning. My eyes are calloused to the glories of the LORD.

I have like a rebellious child, stubborn and assured that they know what’s right for them. I have taken matters in my own hands, assuring God that my little GPS in my brain is sure to get me out of this wilderness. I know exactly where my Promise Land is.

But now I’m lost, fading in and out of consciousness, thirsty and stumbling around blind. The wolves of the night are poised ready to sink their fangs in me. Rather than seeking help from Yahweh, I look up to the night sky and in a hoarse, straining voice ask, “Why God?! Why are you doing this to me? Why are you not blessing me? Where are you? WHERE ARE YOU?!”

I came across a quote that hit me pretty hard.

“ You can’t be connected with God until you’re at peace with who you are. If you’re still upset that God gave you this body or this life or this family or these circumstances, you will never be able to connect with God in a healthy, thriving, sustainable sort of way. You’ll be at odds with your maker. And if you can’t come to terms with who you are and the life you’ve been given, you’ll never be able to accept others and how they were made and the lives they’ve been given. And until you’re at peace with God and those around you, you will continue to struggle with your role on the planet, your part to play in the ongoing creation of the universe. You will continue to struggle and resist and fail to connect.”

You see … I’ve been disconnected from God for a while now.

I am upset with the circumstances God has put me in. I’m a well-rounded, intelligent journalist, with no job. Let alone, job possibilities. I’m like an athlete, trained, ready to go, with no race to run. I’m not at peace with where I am. I long to be anywhere but here. I am constantly looking to the horizon for some hope that might come. Some new adventure. A new job that might give me purpose to wake up in the morning. I am my worst nightmare, a 22 year-old college graduate, living at home, and jobless.

I hate the circumstances I am in.

But until I am able to be at peace with where I am at and where God is taking me … I will not feel connected to the Maker. I am sure that God gets tired of my complaining. But I haven’t really been seeking His direction, His will and to HIS Promise Land, not my own.

Instead, I am fumbling in circles in a place of thirst and hunger. Complaining and grumbling.

“During those many days the king of Egypt died, and the people of Israel groaned because of their slavery and cried out for help. Their cry for rescue from slavery came up to God. And God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Issac, and with Jacob. God saw the people of Israel – and God knew.” Exodus 2:23-24

God hears my grumblings. He hears every word. God knew. He understands what I am going through.

So … now I am looking to Him, not in anger and cursing where I am in life but searching for peace. Because, “God is not a God of confusion but of peace” (1 Cor. 14: 33).

I am desperately seeking His face, arms out searching to feel Him. I am more desperate for Him and His presence, to feel connected to Him again more than anything.

I am falling to my knees in utter desperation, crying out to the God of Abraham, grasping for glimpses of Him in my everyday life. Because I know that when I hold out my hand, blind, broken and lost. His strong hand will find me. He will pull me up off my bleeding knees, and pull me in close.

Then I will feel the closeness of my Savior, feel His heart beat. I will hear his voice again saying to me, “I am with you, my child. I was always with you. I have never left, but it was you who strayed far. But like a shepherd who loses a sheep, I searched for you. I chose you. I love you.”

Though I have not yet found His hand, I wait searching for Him. I know He is not far. Like the children of Israel, I am still wandering in this desert. This is my journey to God’s greater purpose in my life, what I was meant for. This is my journey, where God will appear in the desert with miracles. This is my exodus.