Saturday, October 5, 2013

Eyeing Egypt...

Sometimes treasures glimmer where you least expect them.



Like in the middle of the thickness of my Bible, the canyon of the prophets that we usually prefer to peek into from the safe rims, stories we heard in Sunday school on one side, Jesus and his grace on the other. There's some disturbing stuff down there: a man making a campfire over human excrement, the ones speaking God's words knee deep in mud or sawed in half, God saying his light-of-the-world people are living like they're in red-light districts.

There's also this gem of a story, one I'm not sure I've ever read before. Or if I did, I mistook the gleam of an emerald for the glint of a candy wrapper, discarded, no more use for us today.

It begins in Jeremiah 40, right after Hurricane Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon toppled Jerusalem, leaving bodies and a burning heap of a city in his wake. Jeremiah chooses to stay with the handful of people who were too poor to be taken in the exile and those who came out of hiding to join those left. They're under the care of Gedaliah, a sympathetic governor put in place by the invaders.

All is going well until Gedaliah ignores rumors of an assassination threat and is killed by Ishmael, a man of royal blood and ruthless ambition. Ishmael slaughters some more of the remnant and takes them to a nearby country.

In steps Johanan, leader of the army, rushing in to the cheers of the prisoners by the pool at Gibeon. He takes them back from Ishamel and they decide to go to Egypt. They're hoping to avoid any retaliation from the Babylonians for the murder of Governor Gedaliah. Before they go, they stop and ask Jeremiah the prophet what God thinks of their decision.

Here's what they say: "Whether we like it or not, we’ll do it. We’ll obey whatever our God tells us. Yes, count on us. We’ll do it.” (Jeremiah 42:5-6 MSG)

So Jeremiah, tells them this good news: "If you are ready to stick it out in this land, I will build you up and not drag you down, I will plant you and not pull you up like a weed. I feel deep compassion on account of the doom I have visited on you. You don’t have to fear the king of Babylon. Your fears are for nothing. I’m on your side, ready to save and deliver you from anything he might do. I’ll pour mercy on you. What’s more, he will show you mercy! He’ll let you come back to your very own land."



But, as if he's watching the resistance pass like a thundercloud across Johanan's face, he adds this: "But do not say, ‘We’re not staying around this place,’ refusing to obey the command of your God and saying instead, ‘No! We’re off to Egypt, where things are peaceful—no wars, no attacking armies, plenty of food. We’re going to live there.’ If what’s left of Judah is headed down that road, then listen to God’s Message. This is what God-of-the-Angel-Armies says: ‘If you have determined to go to Egypt and make that your home, then the very wars you fear will catch up with you in Egypt and the starvation you dread will track you down in Egypt. You’ll die there! Every last one of you who is determined to go to Egypt and make it your home will either be killed, starve, or get sick and die. No survivors, not one! No one will escape the doom that I’ll bring upon you."

And the terrible thing? They still decide to GO. They tell Jeremiah that he's a liar. That's he's in league with the invaders. God couldn't possibly be calling them to STAY. And so they leave and are destroyed amidst the very sands they thought meant safety. 

How many times do I choose Egypt? 

How many times do we, God's people, turn from an offer to be planted because we're not ready to stick it out? 

How many times do we choose the promise of peace and prosperity over the places of God's messy mercy? 

What if the places where God wants to show us his salvation, his deliverance, his mercy, are the very same places of vulnerability, of uncertainty, of rubble needing restoration and places where we're not in control?

Because what if what we fear will catch up with us, what we dread will track us down, and what we hope to escape find us in the times that we flee?

We might not be killed or starved, get sick or die, not like the remnant turning their backs on rubble. But might we find to our horror that:

We run from relationships that seem too painful to repair, only to find bitterness and loneliness seep slowly into the walls of our hearts.

We avoid situations that make us feel uncomfortable or vulnerable, only to find our souls slowly dying from meaninglessness and wasted chances to live fully present lives.

We run from brokenness in our homes, in our neighborhoods, in our workplaces, in the Body, only to find the pain we sought to avoid is waiting where we chose to wander. 

What if life is found in the very places we deem, "unfit to live?"


I don't know where your ruined Jerusalem lies. I don't know what Egypt beckons you with mirages of uncomplicated peace.

But I do know God promises much for those of us who choose to "stick it out" in places of impossibilities, apparent desolation, and tears.

He is on our side, ready to save and deliver, compassionate, hope of our freedom from fear.

May we trust him enough to remain in the rubble.

May we trust that he'll plant something beautiful HERE.