Deliverance
I wrote this poem after studying Exodus and putting myself in the Israelites' place. It's hard to understand why they would worship a golden calf that they made RIGHT AFTER seeing the plagues and going through the Red Sea, before being delivered by the Almighty God. So I put myself in their place. What would make me want to worship an idol instead of Jehovah? And this is what I found.
This is our journey
Our journey of deliverance,
Jehovah’s deliverance
When Moses came,
fresh from the smelly flocks,
we rejoiced at his words
he said he’d seen God
and he’d been promised the way
the way we’d longed for
the way out of oppression
of bondage
of death for our sons
of hopelessness -
the way out!
But then…
Pharaoh showed his strength
he rained down pain
further crushing
there was no way out
after all.
We doubted Moses
we turned to anger
when Pharaoh punished us
for Moses’ words
God’s words of deliverance
that we’d cried for
for generations.
We were broken.
So we despaired at first discouragement.
But then —
how to describe what began to happen?
I thought deliverance
would go the way I begged
but this God
this I AM…
Well,
He seemed so distant before -
a family memory
“God of my fathers”
But now…
He was present.
Not like the idols of Egypt -
No indeed
I AM present is different
than I ever dreamed.
I did not think His deliverance
would look like blood
lapping at the shores of the Nile
I did not think deliverance
would look like sores
peppering my neighbor
I did not think deliverance
would look like darkness
as a border between us and Egypt
I did not think deliverance would look like teeming frogs
or clouds of locusts
or skies of hail
or the silent slaying of the son of my oppressor
as he lay safe in his bed.
I did not think deliverance
would save some of my enemy too
that deliverance
would show my oppressor my God
that the Egyptian would be given the chance
to believe, too,
in the God of my fathers.
I did not think deliverance
would set me trembling
in awe.
This was not my deliverance.
Then, delivered,
wide-eyed at Power,
we ran out in haste
and we faced
the sea.
As wheels rang behind us
“This is not deliverance!” we cried.
“You have led us to death!”
This God is not safe!
This is a God of destruction
and now He has authored ours
between the waters and the chariots
What is our deliverance -
to be struck by the sword
and drowned!
Who is this God,
this I AM?
Called to believe in Him,
called to silently watch,
we stood as Moses’ arm rose
and
the cloud behind us
shed its light on us
Jehovah, rearguard at our backs,
’til morning lit the sea
and we saw
towering walls of glistening glass -
a way between the waters.
Numb, jaw slack,
could I be surprised yet again?
Will it ever stop - the unexpected?
The awe-some sights?
Shaken, yes, trembling once more.
Will I ever stop trembling, oh God?
With a bellow they followed us in
but the cloud, Jehovah rearguard,
swerved their wheels that threatened death
the Hand was at our backs
Our enemy lost control
feared
turned back
The sea released
And we stood on the bank
watching chariots wash ashore
The sound of singing
the song of praise
Moses’ sister led the way
both of them now,
no holding back in them,
fierce abandonment in rising praise
one by one voices joined
all around me,
the song of deliverance.
And I wondered again,
Who is this God,
this I AM,
who gouges the sea
hurls the enemy
kills the firstborn
saves the oppressor who paints with blood on doorpost?
Who is the God of my fathers?
He does not deliver on my terms.
He is beyond my control.
And I am afraid.
Without food on the journey,
throats parched for water,
we feared
we railed
and I wondered again
gripped in dismay
this God, oh, He brought us here to die!
Alone, cut off
we will die in the desert
we cannot predict His ways!
This was not my plan of deliverance.
The flutter of wings almost unheard through my groans
the sound of rushing water
from dry rock flowing
deliverance again.
Ungrateful, afraid,
I put hand to mouth
handful of manna
food crafted by a God
and wondered,
Who is this I AM?
Who creates bread from sand?
When will He be a safe deliverer?
Predictable?
Appease-able?
Controllable?
In Egypt they could sacrifice
follow the formula
control the blessings and curses -
this God does not fit that mold.
This God leaves me trembling
as He delivers.
Do I want this deliverance?
At the mountain I decide.
God meets us there.
He shakes the mountain with His presence
and calls, speaks to us
His thunder rumbles,
lightning crashes
trumpets that we do not see blast
I AM is there, speaking.
He tells us how to live
We agree with offering
Then He calls Moses up
up to the cloud
Moses, face lit,
has given his all
to this God.
His face is marked by excitement,
his fear is different
it propels him forward
as if this God is all he’s ever longed for.
Moses, all in,
goes toward the consuming fire.
And I decide.
Even though a cord inside draws me,
says, “That’s where I belong
my all of me belongs with Him
that’s where freedom lies!”
Even so…
I say no.
And when Moses ascends
and the long days weigh heavy with fear,
the mountain rumbling,
I choose again,
with the others whose eyes reflect mine,
we choose a safe god
a familiar shape
a cow
under our control
in our making.
And when we bow in worship,
raise our voices in ecstasy,
I think,
“Yes, this is safe.
This is worship on my terms.
This is mine. I can grasp it,
decide how I want this to be.
I choose this god,
I choose me.”
***
It isn’t until later that I admit
not until later that I understand
my choice is death.
And as I stare at the bodies lying dead around me
I think,
so too do I deserve.
Why did He not strike all of us?
Why not me?
I chose my way,
chose an idol of gold
made of jewelry from around my neck
fashioned by hands
exalted only by our rebellious voices
Why did I not die for my choice?
Driven almost to despair,
wondering, hardly daring to live,
I take the small sliver of courage in my chest,
and I take my question to Elohim.
“God, who is I AM,
why do I live?
I did not choose You
I chose myself
and death lingers before me.
So why am I spared?
A living specter of sin,
Choice made,
choice regretted,
unable to live on,
heavy under the weight,
standing before a God
who knows all
who makes Moses shine
like the sun at noon.
I chose me -
why do I live?”
Though I go shaking,
I expect no answer
Why would the Holy One
humble Himself to hear me?
But something draws me on,
and here I stand, waiting.
His answer?
So simple,
so freeing,
so true:
“You did not choose Me,
but I chose you.”
He does not say more now
but it is the answer to my heart,
the one I couldn’t find words to form.
And now…
I am His.
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