Exodus 14:5-7, 10-14, 21-29
There is something about ourselves that we can see in the Israelites’ reaction at the edge of the Red Sea.
They’ve left Egypt. They’ve escaped slavery. They’ve seen God’s power at work. And yet, when they look before them and see the impassable Red Sea and behind them and see Pharaoh’s army approaching, fear takes over.
Suddenly, Egypt doesn’t seem so bad. They say to Moses, in essence, “Why did you bring us out here? Wouldn’t it have been better to stay in Egypt?”
It might be easy to criticize them for this, since their faith in God and belief and Moses had carried them this far, but maybe we understand them more than we realize.
When the future is uncertain, the past can begin to look very comfortable. We do this in our own lives. We remember earlier seasons and think, “If only we could go back.” We remember a time when life seemed simpler, when our families were younger, when our work was different, when the church was fuller, when the world seemed to make more sense.
And sometimes we remember those things with good reason. There is much in our past worth celebrating and cherishing. But there is a difference between remembering the past and returning to it.
Israel could not go back to Egypt. Even if they had wanted to, Egypt was not really the place they remembered. It was the place from which they had cried out to God for deliverance. It was familiar, but it was also a place of suffering.
We do the same thing with the past. We remember the beautiful parts while forgetting what made us long for something different in the first place.
This is especially true when we think about the church. It’s easy to remember the years when churches were full, Sunday schools were busy, choirs were large, and the church held a more central place in our communities. There’s nothing wrong with remembering those years. They shaped us. They gave us traditions, friendships, stories, and faith that are still part of who we are.
But we cannot go back. Not because those years were bad. Not because everything about today is better. Simply because the world in which the church lives has changed.
The temptation is to spend all our energy trying to recreate what once was. But God’s invitation is something different.
What if our task is not to rebuild the church of the past, but to discover what it means to be the church here, now, in this particular moment? We don’t have to leave everything behind. Israel carried something with them out of Egypt. They carried their stories. Their faith. Their identity. Their memories. They carried the knowledge of what God had done.
We can do the same. We can carry forward the hymns and prayers that have shaped us. We can carry the stories of those who taught us faith. We can carry traditions that still speak life. We can carry the values of generosity, welcome, community, compassion, and service. But we don’t have to recreate the circumstances of the past in order to remain faithful to the God who was present there.
The God who met Israel in Egypt was also the God who met them at the sea. And that is the hope for us as well. God is not only the God of where we have been. God is also the God of where we are going, the path we have yet to walk.
The Israelites couldn’t yet see what lay ahead. They could only see the sea in front of them and Pharaoh behind them. But their inability to see the way forward didn’t mean there was no way forward.
Faith sometimes means trusting God when we cannot yet see what comes next. So we can honour the past without living in it. We can grieve what has been lost without believing that everything good is behind us. We can carry forward what matters while remaining open to what God might be doing next.
Because faith isn’t always about finding our way back to what was. Faith is trusting God enough to walk toward what comes next.
Take some time and sit with the reading from Exodus. As you do reflect on the following questions.
- What parts of your past do you find yourself longing for? What made those times meaningful?
- What might you want to carry forward from the past without trying to recreate it?
- Where might you be tempted to cling to what is familiar simply because the future feels uncertain?
- What would it look like to trust God with whatever comes next?
Let’s pray:
God of yesterday, today, and tomorrow, we give thanks for all that has shaped us and for the people and traditions we carry with us. Help us to honour the past without becoming trapped in it. Give us courage to release what we cannot recover, wisdom to carry forward what matters, and faith to walk toward the future even when we cannot yet see the way. Remind us that you are already there. AMEN