October 16, 2022 Faith Story: He left

Hebrews 11:1-2, 24-28 & Exodus 3-11 (Beginner’s Bible)

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval. 

By faith Moses, when he was grown up, refused to be called a son of Pharaoh’s daughter, choosing rather to share ill-treatment with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin. He considered abuse suffered for the Christ to be greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was looking ahead to the reward. By faith he left Egypt, unafraid of the king’s anger; for he persevered as though he saw him who is invisible. By faith he kept the Passover and the sprinkling of blood, so that the destroyer of the firstborn would not touch the firstborn of Israel.

______

When Moses grew up, he left the palace. He did not like to see how the king made his people work so hard. He went to another land. There he took care of sheep. One day while he was watching the sheep, he saw a bush covered with fire. But it did not burn up. When he went closer to see the bush, God called him. “Moses, I want you to go to the king. Tell him to let my people leave Egypt.” Moses was afraid. But God said, “I will be with you. I promise I will bring the people out of Egypt. I will lead them to a special land.” But Moses was still afraid. So God said, “Throw down the rod you are holding.” Moses threw it down. It turned into a snake. God said, “Pick it up again.” Moses picked it up. It turned back into a rod. God said, “I will use signs like this to show the king that I am with you.” So Moses went back to Egypt. He told his people that God would take them out of Egypt. He would lead them to a new land. Moses went to the king of Egypt. He said, “God wants you to let his people go.” But the king said, “No.” So God turned all the water into blood. The people could not drink the water. But the king would not let the people go. God made frogs come all over the land. Frogs were in ovens, in beds, everywhere. The king said, “Make the frogs go away. Then your people can go” But after God took the frogs away, the king said, “No, the people cannot go.” God made gnats come all over the land. The gnats were on people. They were on animals. But the king would not let the people go. Then God sent flies to Egypt. The houses were full of flies. The ground was covered with files. The king said, “The people can go. But take away the flies, too!” So God took the flies away. But the king said, “You cannot go.” Then God said, “Your cows and horses and donkeys will get sick.” And that’s what happened. All the animals got sick. But the king still would not let them go. So God made the people of Egypt get sick. They had sores on their bodies. But the king would not let the people go. Then God sent a hailstorm. Hail beat down everything growing in the fields. The king said, “We have had enough. Take the people and go.” But when he saw the hail stop, he said, “You cannot go.” So God sent locusts all over Egypt. They covered the ground until it was black. They ate the fruit off the trees. The king said, “Take away these locusts. Then you can go.” But when the locusts were gone, he changed his mind again. Then God sent darkness to cover the land. Even in the daytime, it was dark. No one could se anything. They could not leave their houses. But the king still would not let them go. Then God said, “The oldest boy in each family of the people of Egypt will die. But my people will be safe.” It happened just as God said. And that night, the king called Moses. “Go!” he said. So God’s people took all they had and left.

  ______

Frodo Baggins is a happy Hobbit living in the Shire in The Lord of the Rings trilogy. One day, his beloved Uncle Bilbo hands him a ring, only it isn’t just any ring. It is the One Ring—a ring so powerful, so dark, that only one as simple and pure as Frodo Baggins can handle its evil draw. But the ring, as it turns out, isn’t dormant. Its power is seducing dark forces, evil strangers into the Shire. The wise wizard, Gandalf the Grey, tells Frodo he must take the ring far away from the Shire, or its powers will  destroy the happy village. So innocent, young Frodo and his trusted sidekick, Sam, gather up their things, Frodo tucks away the One Ring, and together they embark on their epic journey. And soon after their journey begins, Frodo and Sam come to the edge of a field. Sam stops. Frodo turns to ask him what’s wrong. Sam replies, “If I take one more step, it will be the farthest away from home I’ve ever been.” Frodo places his hand gently on Sam’s shoulder and says, “Come on, Sam. Remember what Bilbo used to say: ‘It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.’” Sam takes a resolute step forward and the young Hobbits are off on an adventure that will change them forever.

Every adventure begins with a leaving.

·         The young scholar hugging mom and dad goodbye as they leave her in her first college dorm room.

·         The young soldier waving goodbye to family and friends as the bus pulls away for boot camp.

·         The young couple leaving the church after saying, “I do.”

·         The young mother, holding her newborn, being wheeled outside the hospital to begin her life anew.

·         The man packing his bags and leaving his wife and kids when it becomes clear the marriage will never work.

·         The employee packing her things when the job of her dreams is over.

·         The widow leaving the gravesite after the final flowers are placed.

Every adventure begins with a leaving.

The Hebrew people have been in Egypt for 430 years. It started out great. Their brother, Joseph was Pharoah’s chief of staff and Joseph made sure they were taken care of. But 430 years is a long time. There arose a Pharoah who did not know Joseph, according to scripture. Well, duh. It’s been 430 years. What began as great relationship between Egypt and Israel has soured, to say the least. Egypt has become abusive—murderous even. The suffering that Egypt levies upon the Hebrews is no longer tenable. Something’s gotta give.

Enter: Moses.

Put in a basket and placed in the river by his parents. Picked up and raised by Pharoah’s daughter in Pharaoh’s house. Self-exiled at the age of 40 after killing an Egyptian for abusing a Hebrew. Tending sheep in the desert for 40 years after that.

Moses is 80-years-old when God speaks to him from a burning bush. 80-years-old when God reveals God’s purpose to Moses. 80-years-old when he sets out to lead the Hebrew people on the most epic adventure they will EVER take.

Moses was 80-years-old when his true calling was revealed. He’ll live into that calling for the next 40 years until he dies at the age of 120. So unless you’re 120-years-old, there’s no reason to think or even imagine that God is done with you. But remember . . .

Every adventure begins with a leaving.

So Moses returns to Egypt.

·         “Pharoah, let my people go!” “No? Ok.” Blood.
(But Pharoah would not let the people go.)

·         “Pharoah, let my people go!” “No? Ok.” Frogs.
(But Pharoah would not let the people go.)

·         “Pharoah, let my people go!” “No? Ok.” Gnats.
(But Pharoah would not let the people go.)

·         “Pharoah, let my people go!” “No? Ok.” Flies.
(But Pharoah would not let the people go.)

·         “Pharoah, let my people go!” “No? Ok.” Livestock.
(But Pharoah would not let the people go.)

·         “Pharoah, let my people go!” “No? Ok.” Boils.
(But Pharoah would not let the people go.)

·         “Pharoah, let my people go!” “No? Ok.” Hail.
(But Pharoah would not let the people go.)

·         “Pharoah, let my people go!” “No? Ok.” Locusts.
(But Pharoah would not let the people go.)

·         “Pharoah, let my people go!” “No? Ok.” Darkness.
(But Pharoah would not let the people go.)

·         “Pharoah, let my people go!” “No? Ok.” Firstborn.

The first-born sons of Egypt, both human and animals—dead. The Bible says there was not a household in all of Egypt that was left unaffected, while the Hebrew sons were spared—God “passed over” the Hebrew homes marked with blood (the reason for the Passover celebration that continues among the Jews to this day).

So much death. So much grief. The Egyptians and even the Pharoah wanted the Hebrews gone so that their suffering would end. Finally . . . FINALLY . . . Pharoah had enough and let the Hebrew people go. The Hebrews plundered the Egyptians; they had to move quickly, leaving before the yeast was added to the dough (the reason for unleavened bread at the Passover celebration). 600,000 men plus women, children, and livestock. Over 1 million, maybe 2 million people. Uprooted their lives. Said goodbye to everything they had known for 430 years. And they just . . . left. Moses just . . . left.

Every adventure begins with a leaving.

There are times in our lives when we must leave . . . our very freedom demands a leaving. Sometimes, in order to live into our calling, in order to attain freedom, in order to live our lives with integrity, we must leave some “home” that was once comfortable, but now it’s no longer comfortable. Dis-comfort emotionally. Dis-sonance mentally. Dys-pepsia physically. Every part of our being knows “dis” isn’t working.

Jesus taught his disciples about leaving. He told them:

Whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, 
go out into its streets and say, “Even the dust of your town 
that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you.”
—Luke 10:10-11

Sometimes we must “shake the dust off our feet”—we must leave toxic ideas and toxic people behind. Here are some of the things we may have to leave behind in order to move forward:

·         Bad ideas and/or toxic dogma

·         Unhealthy relationships

·         Oppressive workplaces

·         Unhelpful habits

·         Preferences that are just . . . preferences

And sometimes we have to leave behind physical things like places and homes and things.

When my husband and I had to leave the house we loved in Tennessee to move to Kentucky, I wept. I walked from room to room recalling memories of my children: my oldest son coming down the steps on Christmas day to see what Santa brought; my youngest son taking his first steps in the family room. I went outside, to the rope swing we hung in the backyard and remembered playing and laughing together, grieving that we would never play on that rope swing again. But the hardest part about leaving that house was the door trim where we marked my kids’ growth year by year.

But we had to leave, in order to—arrive.

Every adventure begins with a leaving.

You’ve been there, haven’t you? You had to leave something you loved. Some place. Some way of life. Some way of thinking. Some way of being. You’ve had to leave, in order to arrive. And in between? The great unknown.

·         Like the Hebrew people, sometimes we must leave that which is known so that we might step into freedom.

·         Like Frodo and Samwise, sometimes we must leave that which is known so that we might step into our purpose.

·         Like Moses, sometimes we must leave that which is known so that we might step into our God-given calling.

Leaving is usually not easy. No. In fact, it can be gut-wrenchingly difficult. But sometimes we just know we cannot stay. But remember this:

Every adventure begins with a leaving.

The Hebrews left after 430 years in Egypt to step into freedom. What about you? Is there something you need to let go of, something to leave in the rear-view mirror to live into that which God is calling? Some new way of living and being?

Whether your “leaving” is soon or on some distance horizon, know that your leaving will never be alone. God promised to Moses: “I will be with you” (Exodus 3:12).

Though you sometimes must leave, God will never leave you.

I close with a poem by Jan Richardson entitled “Blessing in the Dust.”

You thought the blessing
would come
in the staying;
in casting your lot
with this place,
these people;
in learning the art
of remaining,
of abiding.

And now you stand
on the threshold
again.
The home you had
hoped for,
had ached for,
is behind you—
not yours, after all.

The clarity comes
as small comfort,
perhaps,
but it comes:
illumination enough
for the next step.

As you go,
may you feel
the full weight
of your gifts
gathered up
in your two hands,
the complete measure
of their grace
in your heart that knows
there is a place
for them,
for the treasure
that you bear.

I promise you
there is a blessing
in the leaving,
in the dust shed
from your shoes
as you walk toward home—

not the one you left
but the one that waits ahead,
the one that already
reaches out for you
in welcome,
in gladness
for the gifts
that none but you
could bring.