Egypt

An old man held my hand tonight. I was walking and he grabbed me, took my hand and kissed it while weeping. I could smell the stale Taiwanese beer on his breath. I saw the cigarette in his hand as he stood outside, eyes watery from too much alcohol and not enough hope. All I could do was listen, hear his story. Eventually I would pray for him, and part ways as he wept and said thank you.

Strange, this man was not Taiwanese. He was Indian, yet had lived in Brazil. I cannot say whether or not the years had been kind to him, yet the wrinkled and weathered lines upon his brow told me that he had not been pleasant to the years. I could see that he had regrets, he had moments of sorrow, and with bottle in his hand he took to white-washing away iniquity the only way some people know how too. 

Here he was, an alien, a foreigner. A stranger on the streets of Taiwan. As I spoke to him he told me no one helps him. That there is no help. Then he told me something strange to hear that night, "Nobody blesses me."

It was a strange thought, my words froze as I thought about how I've got it in with God. A direct line to the King. I am no cupbearer but I have a profound link to the throne of Grace. So I told him simply, I would bless him.

Tears streamed down his face. I could only hug him, pray for him, and tell him there is hope.

I envy not the path that Old man Sam has walked these years. Here he was, a broken, old, foreigner. A stranger in a land not his own.  

I left sad because Sam, well he was probably too liquid up to remember or have a real conversation. He was too broken in that moment for me to win him over with my words. In all my humanity only an act of God could shake away the death on him. It was here that I thought about how the only thing I can do is pray that the Lord would redeem Sam. That the Pharaoh in the life of sam, that great wicked one, Abbadon, would be rebuked and relinquish his grip upon this man.

Exodus always grabs my heart in a way that few passages of scripture do.

Perhaps that is not fair to say. The whole bible is beautiful, meticulously crafted and genuinely powerful.

Yet the last few weeks, Exodus has been prominent in my soul.

A story of strangers, foreigners in the land of Egypt. A people and culture not their own was imposed upon them. I couldn't understand it like I do now.

Other than the song "Walk like an Egyptian" and too many sand-filled Brendan Frasier movies, Egypt is a distant thought to me. Yet it is on the forefront of my mind tonight. I am not old enough to know what it is like to be a slave, a lost denizen of an oppressive culture, or freedomless and restricted. Some would say we have no freedom, some would champion heroes like Ron Paul. I know not what freedom  I have and do not have, but I do know I have never been whipped. I have never been beaten until I worked hard. I mean I really do not know the concept of "Want."

I have wanted an Xbox, I have wanted relationships, I have wanted the new Anberlin CD. I have though, not encountered true physical "Want." And sadly, I am probably worse for it. Although not to play down my life, I have felt a want that has left me thirstier than the dusty tombs of Egypt ever would. Spiritual thirst.

The Hebrews of old were in a land that was different from what they had known. A different language, style of living, and sadly view on the value of human life. Even now I can understand spiritual thirst. There is this suffocating longing for hope, for something different in life. Only in the tension and the craze of serving God do I feel that thirst lesson. Only after spending time in the bible and with other believers does this deep dry part of my heart feel the fresh renewing waves of water. All humans want.

Both the rich American and the poor villager. It's just a part of life, a part of this world. We've all felt that feeling, that strange sickening darkness of the soul where we are unhappy. What is strange is that feeling happens in the midst of squalor or at the height of having all we've ever wanted. It is a symbol, a sign, that there is something deeper. Something spiritual and thirsty in the heart of every human that longs for more than these mortal coils can offer.

So this story of the Exodus, God redeeming His people from the land of Egypt, His thirsty, tired, oppressed people. It resonates with me.

Pyramids, Gold, Kings, mummies. It's so easy to neglect the reality of the Egyptian culture. It worshipped death. It was a culture that memorialized eternity in the ever-shifting yet never changing landscape of sand and wind. The 2D drawings of hieroglyph and mosaic were not carved due to an elementary level craftsmanship. It is a fatal error to believe a people as powerful and wise as to build the pyramids could not draw in the right artistic perspective. No, our western mind likes to draw truth and realism, yet the Egyptians loved the eternal. The 2D picture that showed a specific side, direction, and a flat endless top view. It pointed toward the unending. It pointed toward the flat Egyptian sands were ancient things lay even in the time of Moses. Where 2000 years ago a man approaching the pyramids was not seeing something new, but something alien and unfathomable ancient. To an Egyptian, death was life. Death was everything.

It is here in the culture of death that God came to separate out His people.

Amidst that God sent Moses, a man to go and speak out against the injustice. To set his people free. Many have seen an episode of Simpsons, Rugrats, or whatnot mimicking the very Jewish tale of the ten plagues. It is in this familiar well known story I am learning and seeing the redemptive themes of Christ spread upon the pages of history.

The king of the land was Pharaoh, and he ruled this land. He was the king of death. In Egypt death was supreme. Where eternity was an unending chain of embalming and escaping, an eternal attempt to escape to a better life. A better after-life.

We all long for that, be it in our Egypt or in our daily walk. We all long to escape the "rat race" the daily grind. For a purpose deeper than flipping burgers or programming computers. A purpose deeper than what we do but rather something intrinsically different. We long for a purpose rooted in who we are. A people who worship, a chosen creation of God. The Christian knows that this land is not his own. A stranger, an ambassador. What is so strange is the severe hatred and vile hate of Pharaoh. He longs to crush the people of God. To keep them caged up and locked in. Moses was promised that God would set the Hebrews free and yet when Moses first confronted Pharaoh the work got harder for them!

How disheartening is that? To know that he was told "It'll be aight."

Yet it wasn't. It is here the powerful words of God just have caught my heart. Here were I've meditated these last few weeks.

God said that He will bring the Israelites out with a strong hand with a strong hand He will redeem them that they may know He is the Lord God. The God of Israel.  

Think about that for a moment. I've often thought about Jericho. What would happen if the people of Jericho stopped on the sixth day? Or what would have happened if God worked on the city of Jericho on the first day? If He worked too soon someone could have said "Why you fool! It was an earthquake and the Israelites made the story up as they marched."

Yet the second thought, what if the sixth they called it quits?

God is working. Yet sometimes it is at the crux of his working that we falter and walk away. It is in the most painful moments when we lower our heads to pray and things get worse that we forget God is still working even when the results are not what we expected.

I've often shared my favorite moment in the Psalms where it says "Your way lead through the sea, your footprints were in the water."

That's beautiful. So this week I was reminded once again that it's so easy to forget God is working. To be like the Israelites and cry out toward our redeemer "Why have YOU made my life harder?"

I thought about this, I thought about people in my life I long to tell about Christ. People I watch like Old man Sam, who are hurting, they are a foreigner in a land that they do not know. They long for freedom and find the slavery of vice. They live in a culture of death that worships the decaying rot of this world. I thought about how in the lives of many people we are Moses. We are the proclaimer of Christ, telling the mighty evil one, let my people go. We are vessels of righteousness praying against strongholds and destroying them through the power of prayer. I thought really, about how sometimes I stop praying because it's not working. Or it is even getting worse!

Yet, it is working. I am just on the 4th day or the 5th and impatient. It is cool when we pray for God to rescue someone and the day we pray it happens yet sometimes that is not the best time. God redeems with a strong hand. How often has someone been through the most shocking events and said "I needed that, or else I would be a different person."

So this week I'm thinking a lot about Exodus. I have so many things to share and say, so many things I've learned. I love the word of God.

And tonight I am praying, that God will save His people. That the prince of this world will let that broken man on the streets of Taichung go. And tonight, I believe, God will.