Red Sea Moments

Red Sea Moments: Learning to Trust Before the Way Opens

Have you ever known that something needed to change, but then, when things actually started changing, you found yourself thinking:

Wait a minute. Maybe things were fine before, just the way they were.

It's funny how that happens.

We can know something isn't working. We can recognize that a pattern isn't healthy or that something in our lives needs to be different.

And yet, when the possibility of change becomes real, suddenly the familiar begins to feel awfully comfortable.

Sometimes the thing we know feels safer than the thing we don't know.

Even when the thing we know isn't particularly good for us.

Standing at the Red Sea

We're continuing our conversation about Leaving Egypt, inspired by the Exodus story in the ancient Scriptures and Chuck DeGroat's book by the same title.

And today, we find God's people in a rather difficult situation.

They've escaped slavery in Egypt.

They're finally free.

But now they're standing at the edge of the Red Sea.

And behind them?

Pharaoh's army is coming.

So there they are.

The sea in front of them.

The army behind them.

And nowhere obvious to go.

Now what?

The Israelites begin questioning Moses.

Why did you bring us out here?

Did you bring us out here to die?

Wouldn't it have been better if we'd just stayed in Egypt?

It's an astonishing response when you think about it.

They've just escaped slavery.

And now they're wondering whether they should go back.

But maybe it isn't quite as strange as it first sounds.

When Familiar Feels Safer Than Free

Because we do something similar, don't we?

There are patterns in our lives that we know aren't good for us.

And yet we stay.

We keep doing things that exhaust us.

We continue trying to please everybody.

We hold tightly to control because, at least when we're controlling things, we feel like we know how life works.

Even when that way of living is wearing us down.

Even when we know something needs to change.

Because changing those patterns means facing uncertainty.

And uncertainty raises all kinds of questions.

If I stop being the person who fixes everything, who will I be?

If I set a boundary, will people still love me?

Those are real questions.

And sometimes the possibility of leaving behind an old way of living feels more frightening than staying with what we know.

Sometimes leaving Egypt is scarier than staying there.

Before the Sea Opens

There's a moment in the Exodus story that is especially meaningful.

Moses tells the people not to be afraid.

He tells them to stand firm and see what God will do.

But notice when he says it.

He says it before the Red Sea opens.

Nothing has changed yet.

Pharaoh's army is still behind them.

The sea is still in front of them.

They still don't have a visible solution.

They don't know exactly how they're going to get through.

And that's where they're invited to trust.

Not after the way has been made clear.

Not once all the questions have been answered.

Not when everything finally feels safe.

Right there.

Standing at the edge.

With all the uncertainty still in front of them.

Trust begins while the questions are still unanswered.

When “Don't Be Afraid” Feels Like Another Failure

Sometimes, when we hear words like don't be afraid, we don't necessarily find them comforting.

Instead, they can begin to sound like one more thing we're failing at.

Great. Now I'm anxious, and apparently I'm also bad at faith.

We can be remarkably good at turning even an invitation to trust into another reason to condemn ourselves.

But fear is a human response.

When we're facing uncertainty, when something important is changing, when we can't see what's coming next, it's natural to feel afraid.

The invitation isn't to pretend the fear isn't there.

And it isn't to wait until we can somehow make ourselves completely fearless.

The invitation is to bring that fear into relationship with God.

To bring it into His presence.

Rather than allowing fear to take over and make every decision for us, we can learn to bring it to God.

Even when we're still trembling.

Even when our hearts are racing.

Even when we don't know what happens next.

What Is Fear Asking You to Hold Onto?

So perhaps there are a couple of questions worth sitting with today.

What is fear asking you to hold onto?

And:

What good next step is fear keeping you from taking?

Maybe there's a pattern in your life that you've known for a long time needs to change.

Maybe you're exhausted from trying to keep everybody happy.

Maybe you've been holding tightly to control because letting go feels too uncertain.

Maybe there's a conversation you've been avoiding.

Or maybe you simply need to admit to yourself that something isn't working anymore.

And here's something important.

The next step doesn't have to be enormous.

You don't have to solve your whole life today.

You don't have to figure out the entire journey before you begin.

Sometimes the next step is simply asking for help.

Sometimes it's having an honest conversation.

Sometimes it's acknowledging that something needs to change.

It can be small.

One step at a time.

A Prayer for the Edge of the Sea

There's a simple breath prayer we can practice when we find ourselves standing in one of these Red Sea moments.

As you breathe in, pray:

Here I am, Lord.

And as you breathe out:

Help me trust you.

That's it.

Here I am, Lord.

Help me trust you.

You don't have to wait until you feel fearless to pray those words.

You can pray them when you're worried.

When you're anxious.

When your heart is racing.

When you don't know what to do.

You can bring all of that into God's presence.

Because trusting God isn't necessarily about having no fear.

It's about learning where to bring our fear.

God Meets Us Before We See the Way

Whatever sort of Red Sea you might be standing at today, perhaps this is the invitation.

You don't have to know exactly how everything will work out.

You don't have to see the whole path.

And you don't have to become fearless before you can begin to trust.

God meets us right there.

In the uncertainty.

In the unanswered questions.

In the moments when the familiar is behind us and the unknown is ahead.

Even before we can see the way through.

So perhaps today, we can simply begin with a breath.

Here I am, Lord.

Help me trust you.

And then, when we're ready, take one small step toward the freedom God is inviting us into.

May we discover that God meets us in the midst of our fear.

Even before the sea opens.