Dickens in Exodus 14

Standing outside a door. Cold. Rain.

Stomach churns. Lips and fingers succumb to the piercing cold . . . lose feeling and color.

On the other side of the door is manna and warmth. The picture so vivid I taste and feel it.

 I lift my fist to knock, but stop.

I can't knock again. I've knocked so many times.

But here I am. Cold and wet and hungry. Afraid to knock.

A gust of wind engulfs me, I fall into the door. It opens.

Light and warmth possess me. Strong arms lift me into the shelter I couldn't find words or strength to ask for.

Warm soup brings life to my freezing body. I lay by the fire and drift to sleep.

Guilt and shame threaten to engulf me.

"the Lord will fight for you, you need only be still" are lyrics to the song of the fire.

Fingers find the page where the words appear.

Israelites. Egyptians. Complaining. Not trusting.

They hadn't knocked either. They stood at the door complaining. But it opened anyway.

His people. Covenant sealed with blood. He kept His end, one-sided faithfulness.

After all this time, I still assume God will abandon when humans do. When I do.

He never does. Never.

I can try and strive and fail a million times, and still end up having to rely on Him. Or I can surrender and rest and rely in the first place.

It ends the same way, no matter how I get there.

Guilt and shame fade. I relinquish to rest.

Until the next time I decide it all depends on me, and I need to get to work.