This was not their home. Not anymore. It never really had been. No matter how many generations came and went in that place, how nice it was, or how much they flourished. It was not the promised land. It was not the place God vowed to give Abraham’s descendants. It was not the area God confirmed to Isaac and later to Jacob as the place His people would inhabit. They might have settled for it, might have been happy to stay there forever, but this was not the place. Even if it felt like it.
Egypt did feel like it. As the generations passed, it began to feel like home. Familiar. Abundant. Safe. Tucked away on the good land given to their ancestors when Joseph was favored by Pharaoh, they flourished. Crops thrived. Flocks and herds multiplied. Families increased. The Israelite population in Egypt grew to impressive numbers. They were strong from working the land. Given a little military power and structure and the opportunity to join forces with the enemy, they could have posed a threat to Egypt. They didn’t. It never crossed their minds. They were content to continue living in the land, eating good food, enjoying the peace and protection Egypt offered. It felt like they thought home should feel. But it wasn’t home.
By the time the fourth Israelite generation came along, a Pharaoh came to power who didn’t know their backstory. At all. Apparently, he had never read the historical scrolls. He knew nothing about a multiple-year famine. He had no clue who Joseph was. He didn’t know the Egyptians owed their very existence to the God-inspired engineering of a purchased Israelite slave. What he did know was their numbers were large and growing. He knew they were powerful in their own right. He knew if he and his people didn’t get control over the Israelites, they would have to keep them happy lest they become disgruntled and side with the enemies of Egypt against them. He knew that would spell disaster. For his people. For his country. For his reign. (Exodus 1:6-10)
Gathering his leaders together, they devised a plan they believed would protect their land from the alleged power of the Israelites. Pharaoh clearly knew nothing of the people he was attempting to oppress. He knew nothing about the Israelite’s God. He failed to understand and acknowledge the power that was on their side. In what he believed was a stroke of genius, Pharaoh forced the Israelites into submission by making them slaves. Not household servants. Not cooks, housekeepers, and stable boys. Slaves. People assigned back-breaking labor overseen by brutal taskmasters. People were so oppressed and overworked that they had time for nothing else. No planning meetings with the enemy. No forming uprisings. No plotting against a paranoid Pharaoh. Nothing but work, eat, and sleep. Surely this would stop their growth, tame their numbers, break their spirits. The Israelites would be securely under their thumb, completely reliant on Egypt for every need. Right where Pharaoh wanted them. (Exodus 1:11-14)
Except the plan didn’t work. In spite of the difficulties, the Israelites kept growing. As their workload increased, so did their numbers. And Pharaoh’s anxiety grew. Exponentially. Desperate to stop the population influx and keep control over the people, he called in the Israelite midwives and ordered them to kill every baby boy the moment it was born. Have no mercy. Spare no child. They may have nodded their heads in consent, but Puah and Shiphrah weren’t having it. The request was beyond the pale. They wouldn’t be cooperating. And they didn’t. Much to Pharaoh’s dismay, every baby born in Israel was allowed to live. Girls and boys alike.
Pharaoh was enraged. His plan wasn’t working. Something was happening out among the Israelites that he didn’t understand. They were surviving, thriving even. It shouldn’t be this way. Not if his plan was working. But there was no report of perished baby boys. There was no sign of the foreigners’ numbers shrinking. No indication that the work orders, the death threats, the evil measures enacted against them were having the desired effect. So he tried again. Issuing a ferocious order, he demanded all Israelite baby boys be thrown into the Nile River. Sink or swim. Be fish food. He really didn’t care. And he never changed his mind. In spite of the lack of evidence that a grand coup was coming, Pharaoh never lifted the work orders. He never gave them their lives back. Instead, he passed the entire process on to the next Pharaoh, who continued the oppression and bondage. (Exodus 1:15-22, 2:23)
When the new king did nothing to change their circumstances, the people of Israel finally realized Egypt was not their home. It never would be. They were never going to be comfortable here again. Shouldn’t have gotten comfortable in the first place. They had focused on where they were and forgotten where they were going. They had allowed the comforts of enemy territory to become the habits of their lives. Now things had gone sideways, and they were trapped in a land where they didn’t belong under the oppression of people who operated out of fear rather than faith. Distressed, discouraged, desperate, they realized the error of getting too comfortable in the wrong place. Acknowledging their need for divine intervention, all Israel cried out to God for a reprieve, a rescue, a relocation. And God answered. Just not immediately. (Exodus 2:23-25)
Eventually, Moses arrived. He brought Aaron with him. The people thought they would be released. It wasn’t so. Not yet. Pharaoh was stubborn. Hardhearted. Evil. He refused to let them go peacefully. He increased their workloads. Again. It seemed like they would never be free. Maybe Egypt really was their home. Ten plagues later, Pharaoh finally let them go. Pushed them out, really. Not that he left it that way. He didn’t. He chased them down. God had to physically separate the Red Sea and create dry land for them to safely escape his army. They had little food with them. Water was scarce. Quickly, they came to the end of their resources. And arrived at the beginning of their complaints.
The wilderness wasn’t as good as Egypt. The food wasn’t appetizing. The housing wasn’t comfortable. Freedom didn’t look the way they thought it would. Arriving at the promised land wasn’t happening as fast as they thought it should. In the midst of their discomfort, they fussed and fumed about how much better Egypt was than this. They could still smell the cucumbers, leeks, and melons. Their minds could still picture the bounty. They should have stayed. Should have made it their forever home. Why did God bring them out of Egypt with the promise of a permanent home, only to lead them into the wilderness to die?
From the comfort of my home, with food in the cupboards, water flowing from the sink, and temperature controls on the wall, I feel indignant every time I read this account and see the things they didn’t. These people were already home. The pillars of cloud and fire proved it. God was with them. Always. He was their home. He was the place they would find everything they needed. He was their Protector, their Provider, their Sustainer. He claimed them as His people. He promised to be their God. The lack of gourmet food and permanent housing notwithstanding, God was with them, watching over them, feeding them, leading them, protecting them. He was shepherding them every step of the way, carefully bringing them to the promised land. What more could they have possibly needed? (Exodus 4:29-17:13)
What more do you need? In a world that pushes us to believe we need more and more and more, what if you found all you need in Jesus? What if you looked to Him for your strength and encouragement? What if you drew guidance from reading His Word? What if He was your sounding board for every word you speak, every message you write? What if you blindly placed your faith in Him to supply your needs, sustain your soul, survive the struggles of this life? What if you realized Jesus is all you need? What if you made your home in Him and let His home be in your heart?
I hope you do just that. Make your home in Christ. Get to know Him so well you are comfortable in His presence. May it be the only place you long to be. May you come to know Him as your resting place, your hope, your comfort, your peace. Allow Him to make His home in you. Cleanse your heart. Change your mind. Correct your behavior. Allow Christ to set up in you a place that cannot be altered by the shifting moods and opinions of the world because it is firmly settled in the only place that can ever truly be your home. The presence of Christ alone. Today. Tomorrow. Always. This is home. (Psalm 23:1, 27:5, 61:3, 84:2, 90:1; Deuteronomy 33:27; Ephesians 3:17; II Corinthians 6:16; John 14:23)