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I can understand departure on a deeply personal level. Three years ago, I left my home of nearly 20 years to set out on a new journey. I crossed over a threshold to come to a new place, invited to a new home. Jesus has come with me, and I am grateful. Through this story, I can recognize elements of my own invitation to depart and to make my home in a different place.
In the Exodus story, and in our own lives, there is the water that drowns—and drowns out—the voices of the taskmasters. But there is another kind of water—the water that restores and brings rest. The work of God is not just to set free—the work of God is also to transform and to heal. What we find about freedom from taskmasters is that their voices may still linger. What we find about freedom from taskmasters is that their words may make us bitter. Indeed, no sooner has Miriam finished her song—“Sing to the LORD, for he has triumphed gloriously; the horse and his rider he has thrown into the sea” (Exod. 15:21)—than the Israelites are faced with bitter waters.
In the Exodus story, we find that God has power over both the enemy, who is crushed by God’s right hand, and over the waters themselves. The psalmist puts it this way—“When the waters saw you, O God, when the waters saw you, they were afraid; indeed, the deep trembled” (Ps. 77:16). Moses puts it this way—“Who is like you, O LORD, among the gods?” (Exod. 15:2). The image of God, sung about by Moses and recalled by the psalmist, is of a powerful God who inspires awe, reverence, and fear. God has the ability to redeem his people from the very real oppression of the Egyptians in a powerful and mighty way.
Part of what the wilderness does is teach us to wait. The pillar of cloud and fire will remain where it is as long as God wants it to. But, the pillar does move. We will stay in wilderness forever unless we find ways to be brave, to pick up our stakes, and to follow the cloud, trusting that God’s presence dwells inside it. We are to trust that God knows when we’ve been in our particular wilderness long enough—to ask him to help us be brave to walk forward when the cloud begins to move, because eventually it will move. It will move because God moves in our lives. There is a way forward.
God comes to the Israelites in the midst of their pain and tells them that he wants to bring them to a better place. Those of us who know the story, however, know that they have to go through a hard place—wilderness—to get to the better place. Wilderness is a kind of “space between”—a space between enslavement and freedom. Wilderness is the place where we lead ourselves, where life lead us, or where God leads us—to deal with our pain.
The God of Exodus 3 is a God who sees, who hears, and who responds. This same God sees, hears, and responds to the pain in our lives. Our most painful secrets and most secret scars are not a secret to God. The most painful surprise of our lives is not a surprise to God. God saw it coming, all along. And God comes, as Carlo Carretto says, like the sun in the morning—when it is time. He comes to us and he tells us that he wants to take us to a better place.
