Pictures of Egypt

When the Israelites were led out of Egypt, they spent 40 long years in the wilderness, following the Lord around and around in circles, waiting to enter the Promised Land. Their time in the desert was characterized more often than not by discontent, grumbling, looking back on their time of slavery in Egypt with longing. "At least when we were slaves," they would say, "we had plenty of food to eat! If only we had died in Egypt!" Had they already forgotten the terrible bondage they had been in, the cruelty of the slavedrivers, the sting of their whips?

But don't we do the same thing? In the words of one Sara Groves, don't we often "paint pictures of Egypt, leaving out what it lacks," fooling ourselves into believing that we long to be back in our sin, rather than waiting in (seeming) limbo for the Lord's promises? We don't always feel like we are in the promised land of great blessing, and it is so easy to look back over our shoulders and see only what we want to see in the past. We forget that, in our sin, we are broken, captive, headed straight for death and destruction.

But sin tastes sweet if you haven't tasted the Lord. Kind of like how frozen dinners taste pretty good until you've had a real, charbroiled, flame-kissed sirloin steak.

I seem to appreciate food analogies, don't I?

So if you were promised a steak, but had to wait a long time for it, and just trust the word of the chef that it was coming...would your stomach start to rumble and maybe your mouth would water for some chicken nuggets?

Read on for the words to a powerful song, which is an honest reflection on our tendency to look back toward the sin that was so full of death, and long for it with too short a memory for its destructive power. Maybe we do have a few miles of wilderness yet ahead, but we can trust and wait for the Lord, knowing that He is with us, and that where He is, there is yet sweetness and life. Thank God for His gracious provision, that He holds us securely in His hand and promises to guide us safely across the wilderness of this world.

Painting Pictures of Egypt, by Sara Groves

"I don't want to leave here, I don't want to stay;
It feels like pinching to me either way.
But the places I long for the most are the places where I've been,
And it's calling out to me like a long lost friend.

It's not about losing faith, and 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 am painting pictures of Egypt, and leaving out what it lacks.
The future feels so hard, and I want to go back.
But the places that used to fit me cannot hold the things I've learned,
And those roads were closed off to me while my back was turned.

The past is so tangible, I know it by heart,
And familiar things are never easy to discard.
And I was dying for some freedom, but now I hesitate to go,
I am caught between the promise and the things I know.

I am painting pictures of Egypt, and leaving out what it lacks.
The future feels so hard, and I want to go back.
But the places that used to fit me cannot hold the things I've learned,
And those roads were closed off to me while my back was turned.

If it comes too quick, I may not recognize it...
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?
If it comes too quick, I may not appreciate it...
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?"

What is your Egypt? What does your wilderness look like? Can you see what the Lord has for you in the place of waiting and wandering, or are you too busy longing for what you left behind? We often look ahead to the land of milk and honey and forget that God is with us now, in the in-between. The Lord dwelt among the Israelites; He gave them His tabernacle and promised to travel with them and guide them. The promise holds for us today: He has poured out His Holy Spirit on His church and dwells in us, empowering us for this life. Trust in Him, wait for what He has in store, and enjoy the richness of His presence even now as we travel down this long, winding road.