Egypt

One of the hindrances of being involved in ministry of any kind is the consistent struggle with wanting what we once had.  This struggle has reared its ugly head in my heart and mind on a daily basis over the last few months.  That's another way to label what and how I've been feeling.  I've spent a good amount of time in the hopeless feelings of the Divide (between spirit and flesh), but the Divide has a friend - his name is Egypt. 

The Israelites, God's chosen people, were delivered from Egypt - the place where they were made to be slaves.  God, through Moses, brought them out, but because of sin, they were placed in the desert for 40 years.  Throughout the whole time we read about the Israelites, they are found complaining, grumbling, and wanting to go back.  To go back to slavery.  To go back to the place God took them out of.  Sounds stupid, right?  Oh how much I am like the Israelites!  Egypt wants to steal away any good thing we may have going on in our lives currently; to force us to peek back at our past in hopes that we might be able to regain who we were, where we were, etc.  This is fruitless, and, I believe, a tool of the enemy.  I mean, he's not called "the enemy" for no reason - he has weapons.  I know "no weapon formed against us will prosper", but sometimes we allow them to, whether out of self-pity, or pride, or simply because we're tired and don't want to fight anymore.  I'm dealing with all three.

My eyes have been fleeting as of late...they've been wandering...I've desired to catch a glimpse of my Egypt.  I think back to the ministry we have been involved in - how good it felt to see people being reached for Christ.  How fulfilling it was to be involved in true discipleship, to see fellow believers grow in their faith and wisdom.  To have other people pouring into us.  And although those were good things, that's not where God kept us.  That's not where He has us now.  And that makes me mad, frustrated and leaves me wanting.  We are in what seems like the hardest season of our lives thus far...like the Sahara of deserts.  We don't have any direction, God is seemingly silent, our marriage is parched, and my heart looks like the plants I've attempted to keep alive (let's put it this way - no plant I have ever owned has made it).  I struggle with blaming others, beating myself up, and bluffing in my faith.  I have days where things look up - I feel a bit of strength in my heart, and although I'm not ready to push myself, I have a sliver of hope.  Then there are days where I have NONE of that.  Egypt is calling my name, you guys.

I do claim some comfort from reading the story of the Israelites - if God's chosen people, who saw miracles, pillars of fire and clouds of smoke can be dumb, I guess my struggles aren't totally asinine.  In listening to and soaking in Sara Groves today, I heard this song, and it sums up my heart right now:

Painting Pictures of Egypt

I don't want to leave here
I don't want to stay
It feels like pinching to me
Either way
And the places I long for the most
Are the places where I've been
They are calling out to me
Like a long lost friend

It's not about losing faith
It's not about trust
It's all about comfortable
When you move so much
And the place I was wasn't perfect
But I had found a way to live
And it wasn't milk or honey
But then neither is this

I've been painting pictures of Egypt,
I've been leaving out what it lacks
The future feels so hard,
And I wanna go back!
But the places that used to fit me,
Cannot hold the things I've learned
Those roads were closed off to me
While my back was turned!

The past is so tangible
I know it by heart
Familiar things are never easy
To discard
I was dying for some freedom
But now I hesitate to go
I am caught between the Promise
And the things I know

I've been painting pictures of Egypt,
I've been leaving out what it lacks
The future feels so hard,
And I wanna go back!
But the places that used to fit me,
Cannot hold the things I've learned
Those roads were closed off to me
While my back was turned!

If it comes to quick
I may not appreciate it
Is that the reason behind all
this time and sand?
And if it comes to quick
I may not recognize it
Is that the reason behind all
this time and sand?   

Whether in my silence or my abundance of meaningless words, O God, please stop me long enough to hear your still, small voice.  You're the only hope we have.