Exodus 2020-21: A Walk in the Wilderness

I recently met with a group of women to give them words of hope and encouragement in this strange season of 2020-2021. My original thought was to share scripture from Paul’s letter to the Galatians, since it was one I had been frequently revisiting:


And even though I strive to see glimpses of good in every situation, sometimes I still feel the heaviness and frustration of all the change and challenge of new ways of doing life in this season. The unknown and the unmet can certainly be challenging…and exhausting.

But as I prepared to share, and hopefully encourage…the word that came to me wasn’t about weariness or perseverance at all. Instead, it was the words of remembrance that were spoken to the travel-weary Israelites near the end of their wilderness journey:

I have led you forty years in the wilderness. Your clothes have not worn out on you, and your sandals have not worn off your feet. -Deut 29:5

And as I thought about the Israelites’ journey in the wilderness, it felt familiar and timely. But let me first say, I’m not really comparing our season of Covid, shutdowns, changes, confusion, and political and social unrest to the harshness of being in slavery in Egypt or to the long, hungry wandering in the wilderness for 40 years.

But when the people fled out of Egypt, they really didn’t know what to expect. How long would they be in transit? What would it look like? How long would their lives and routines be put on hold? What would happen on the other side? What would be the “new normal?” It was really only about an 11 day journey. Shouldn’t be that hard at all, right? I mean…what could go wrong?


Proverbs 13:12

Well…you know what did happen in that forty years? Fear, isolation, disappointment, changes to routine, grumbling and complaining, rebellion, lying, challenges to faith and family, disease, death. And if we could brainstorm and compare notes and thoughts, the list would keep growing. But you know what else was forged during that time? Faith, boundaries, relationships, leadership, tribal unity, new ways of worship, hope, greater realization of God’s presence. And more.

And then I thought about us during this time. Any of it sound familiar in 2020? Stay home, isolate, social distance, flatten the curve, wear a mask, quarantine, unclean, take the pressure off hospitals, make a plan, figure it all out. I’m not being cynical. It was a new route in the wilderness of 2020 and I think most leaders were trying their best to forge their way along an uncharted path…with no cloud by day or fire by night.

Then I thought, maybe it’s not such a different picture after all. Maybe we had been slaves unaware prior to the pandemic. Slaves to time, tradition, comfort, the expected usual ways, routine in worship, community, education, and gathering. Are we looking back now, like they did, wishing for the good ol days back in Egypt with meat by the fire? Or have we developed a taste for something new? Will we ever again complain about having to go to bible study on Friday where we would have coffee and laughter with our friends? Or getting up to go to church and worship freely on Sunday mornings? Uninhibited hugs and kisses on the cheek? Do we understand the concept of just enough whatever for the day? It felt a little scary when you couldn’t find toilet paper, right?

When we get to the other side of this…what will be different? What awaits us?

We need a Red Sea to the Jordan River moment in our lives…a “Red Sea parting” to provide a way and a “Jordan River crossing” to help us look back and remember. But also look forward with hope. But first we have to be dressed for the journey.



Ephesians 6:13-17

Can we say…for 40 days, or 40 weeks, or 40 months…He led (and we followed) through this time, this wilderness, this season of pulling away and becoming different? In 40 weeks or 40 years…the whole armor of God won’t wear out or rust. But we do have to choose to put it on or to walk around in the wilderness naked… exposed and vulnerable.

Can we say, on the other side of the mountain: daily I collected my portion of bread. Daily I put on my clothes and my sandals?

My belt of truth and breastplate of righteousness. Check. Not worn out. Belt fits securely. I have been consistently seeking truth. Got a whole robe of righteousness.

My shoes of peace wrap around my feet like the peace of God that passes understanding and are as strong and supportive as ever. I walk securely. Lots of traction out of these shoes of peace.

This shield of faith has taken some heavy hits and fiery darts but it keeps on deflecting. Not worn out or even splintered.

This helmet of salvation is secure. He hasn’t given me a spirit of fear but of peace and love and a sound mind.

And the wilderness-wanderers may have had the tabernacle, the cloud, and the fire but we have the sword of the Spirit… the Word of God.


I ask you to think about that verse this week. Very tangibly as it relates, not only to 2020 and beyond, but to how He has led you through…whatever. And remember this encouraging truth found in Lamentations 3:21-23



Because He has led, and is leading, you a figurative forty years in the wilderness. Your clothes have not worn out on you, and your sandals have not worn off your feet.

Grateful, Thankful…Sad

There…I said it. Sad. I am sad.

I actually said those three little words out loud to no one else’s ears this week: “I am sad.” That’s when I thought about the little sign that hangs over the window in my breakfast area that has three other popular, Pinterest-worthy words scripted out in fancy lettering: Grateful, Thankful, Blessed.

Then in the quiet stillness of my room I said aloud: “I am grateful. I am thankful, I am 1a98afed-1ae6-46fa-902c-13c9257cac59blessed. But I’m still sad.” And, speaking aloud, I realized it was okay, Okay to be sad. Okay to cry. I wasn’t ungrateful. It didn’t minimize my thankfulness or rob me of blessing.

I didn’t start out my day sad. It started with a simple video someone had shared. Not even a sad video. An informative, supposedly encouraging video, but it nudged a tender spot and magnified an unmet need that I hadn’t given attention to in a very long time. I had no choice but to put everything else on hold and attend to it at that moment.

There are so many cliches about growing and blooming and thriving in the midst of the mundane and ordinary moments of life: “Loves grows best img_5536in little houses” and “Bloom where you’re planted.” How about a few more specific phrases to apply to the places where I found myself this week: “Bloom where you’re quarantined” or “Weeds grow deepest when they’re ignored and not attended.” The details buried in my messy little garden of sadness aren’t important right now; but the overwhelming, unexpected response to sifting and weeding through the dense, tangled growth caught me off guard at the moment.

I really am grateful, thankful, and blessed! So very blessed. But sometimes I am sad and it has taken me a long time to understand that that is okay. Even longer to admit and name the sadness.

Approximate day 5000 of the quarantine, hiding from the threatened effects of an enemy so small we can’t even see it…is when I realized there was a bigger threat looming. There was a deep sadness knocking at my door. Should I put on mask and gloves and let it in? No, that would just be sanitizing and cautiously mishandling it. Maybe I needed to be totally exposed to whatever was knocking. A friend recently asked me if I thought vulnerability was a bad thing. Is it? Or does “safe vulnerability” build up healing antibodies to make you stronger and healthier? Who or what defines safe? That sounds like a post for later.

Truthfully,  that morning’s sadness had absolutely nothing to do with the virus, threat of illness, being hunkered down at home, or every moment of my usual habits and existence being stripped away. It had everything to do with being still and all the to-do lists and pressures of daily life being halted and silenced for a fleeting, yet revealing, moment in my personal emotional history.

Be still and know that I am God.     -Psalm 46:10    img_5523

Yes, I was being still…a forced stillness; and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. The morning that the great sadness came pouring in had nothing to do with being home, out of work, potential financial problems, worry about the pandemic, or any relational struggles. It had everything to do with the quiet stillness of a brief respite away from distractions and external voices. My ears were open and my heart was vulnerable.

There’s that word again: vulnerable. What was this great sadness? It doesn’t really matter right now. It could be a thousand things that have happened or a single thing that hasn’t. But at that moment it was a doorway I had to choose to cross over, gently close and pretend no one was there, or slam tightly shut.

Sadness is the feeling that speaks to how much you value what is missed, what is gone, and what is lost.     

 -Chip Dodd, The Voice of the Heart

So…sadness can be a good thing? A hard feeling, a gut-wrenching pain…but a catalyst to open your eyes to value and worth and loss and lack? I would ask these questions cautiously but intentionally: Are you grateful? Are you thankful? Are you blessed? Are you sad? Are you feeling a loss? A lack or an absence?

img_5522I certainly can’t answer for you. Being grateful is an external response to your internal feelings of thankfulness. It is an ongoing practice. It takes work and realization and choosing to see; but the more you do it, the more natural it becomes. Are you blessed? If you are alive and breathing and have access to be reading and understanding information at all, then, yes, you are blessed! Are you sad? I am sorry if you are sad; but sadness isn’t all bad. It tells you something matters. It tells you something is missing, misgiven, mistaken, or misunderstood. It matters. It tells you your heart is still beating and feeling and sensing and yearning.

Chip Dodd also writes “Either we value life and deal with the losses we have experienced, or they will eventually burst open and deal with us as consequences that occur due to denial of grief. If we dare listen to our sadness and value the losses it declares, we will awaken to the restoring power of grief. Grief, in turn, leads us to acceptance.”

Acceptance fosters peace and understanding. But maybe your fill-in-the-blank word isn’t sad. Maybe you are grateful, thankful, ______. Afraid. Lonely. Confused. Angry. Hurting.

Maybe they all could be plugged into that equation. Maybe we need to deal with our afraid, our lonely, our confusion, our angry, our losses, our hurting.

img_5524The more I looked around my home, the more reminders I found of blessing. Choosing to be present and to see blessing in the here and now didn’t disguise or minimize the sadness. But a little sadness looks even smaller in a room filled with life and light and laughter and love. Sometimes I look up and read the sign to remember: Grateful, thankful, blessed. I have two other signs around my window, both hand-lettered scripture verses.

Acts 2:46 They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts. And a simple catchword from Colossians 3:23 Whatever:img_5521



Yesterday I was very sad. And it’s okay.

I even cried, The prophets cried out. Job was saddened unto desiring death. King David poured out his sadness into Psalms and laments. Even Jesus wept. So I guess it’s okay for me to cry too.

His mercies are new every morning


img_5532Today is a new day. Have hope, have love, have a heart and eyes to seek and see blessing. And have permission to feel your sadness. Feel your pain. Feel your joy. Even feel your anger. You can still be grateful, thankful, and blessed in the midst of the mess. You can even be a little sad.


(And when you are sad and the quarantine is over, come to my table and we can truly break bread and eat together with glad and sincere hearts. Blessings.)
