When a friend prayed with me a few years ago, she sensed she had a word from God she needed to share.
It was more of a question really.
It seems God was repeating a personal word I’d heard some time before from our Pastor, yet not fully understood or heeded at the time.
He asked, “Are you prepared to leave Egypt behind?”
As I prayed and puzzled over this, it soon became clear that ‘Egypt’ represented those things which held me captive, were enslaving me to some extent and preventing forward momentum.
Eager as I may have been to let go of them, in many ways they represented all that had become close and familiar.
For example, my childhood was riddled with abuse and dysfunction. I hated it but I knew no different.
Growing up under its shadow was all I knew to be ‘normal’, the very fabric of my being, a deep part of who I was as a person.
In order for full healing to take place, I needed to unearth the dark places in my soul, recognise the pain, address it with appropriate help and support, and find a way to live free of its effects.
It took many years of counselling before a large degree of emotional healing occurred in that area.
Now it felt like God was asking this question of my life in general.
Was I ready for seeing life through the lens of His word rather than viewing everything from my experiences?
Could I accept, believe and receive the truth of who I am in Christ?
By faith in Christ, we are:redeemed, renewed, radically and deeply loved, forgiven, free from guilt and shame, forever set free to live without walls, given every resource we need to be whole and healed….and so much more besides.
He longs for us to see ourselves in the mirror of His word rather than viewing the distorted images playing in our minds.
We all have areas in our lives which need transformation, change and healing.
Our willingness to allow access to them in order for healing to take place is another matter entirely.
I’ve written about this more openly and shared what is helping me in this post from Words of Joy.
The poem below is an acknowledgement of how hard it can be to move forward.
When the prison you know
has walls papered over
with past experiences
faded, worn and torn,
fraying round edges,
it can still feel cosy
warm and familiar
like a house,
a home boxed in
We cling to what we know
with surprising tenacity
in spite of pain
leaching into our souls,
a heavy weight with capacity
to drown us in
suffocate breath and life,
holding us down
hard and fast
in an embalmed state.
Leaving Egypt behind
to enter our Promised Land
can feel like strange unravelling,
so we dig heels stiff,
resistant, into hot sand,
with each tender step
we tentatively take
a reminder of how far
we still have to travel
for our safety’s sake