The Other Half of Out

Before we moved into the house where we live now, we had rented a small townhouse in the city. It had two bedrooms and sat next to a major thoroughfare where we could hear the Jake Brakes of semi trucks hammering down the hill all night every night.

When we became pregnant with our second child, we decided it was time to move. We wanted a yard for our children to play in that did not involve high-speed traffic roaring by feet away from their main play area, and we wanted at least three bedrooms -- one for boys, one for girls, and one for parents.

The house we bought answered these needs. It wasn't much bigger than the townhouse, but there was a dividing wall between the boy's room and the girl's room, and the back yard provided plenty of play space. We moved when my newborn son was three weeks old. Exhausted, nursing, and being awake all night, I didn't do loads to help. I held our infant son, kept our toddler daughter out of the way, and watched my poor husband do most of the intensive labor.

I remember the final moments in the townhouse. It was empty but for a few cleaning supplies, rags, tools, and flashlights. I was numb from lack of sleep, my husband as well. We had worked all day. My in-laws were keeping our oldest daughter, but my son, tethered to me because of nursing, squirmed restlessly in my arms. He wanted comfort, and I was too tired to give it. My husband kept finding this and that and the other to do, and I remember my frustration. 

My snappish attitude was nonsensical; my husband needed to finish the work, but the rebellion rose up inside me like I was a pressure cooker on a hot burner. All I wanted was just... to go. Leave it behind. Get out.

I slumped against the wall, waiting. In my exhausted haze, I had no forward-thinking ability. I had absolutely no thoughts of new house, own bed. 

All I could think of was: leave. Not... come.

I had one half of the circle down pat. The other half -- I still needed to remember.

In Exodus 6, Moses is discouraged. We're going to see his discouragement a lot through this book. He's obeyed God, he's gone to Pharaoh, he's demanded that the king "Let my people go," but Pharaoh says, "Uh, no."

God reminds Moses that Pharaoh will let the Israelites go. "Now you will see what I will do to Pharaoh: Because of My mighty hand, he will let them go; because of My mighty hand, he will drive them out of his country."

Frustration declares: That's what you said last time, Lord.

And God says: "I am the Lord. I appeared to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob as God Almighty, but by My Name Yahweh (the Lord) I did not make Myself known to them." 

Abraham, Isaac, Jacob are familiar with Yahweh, but the full implication of Yahweh is most completely seen in Genesis 3:15 where God tells the serpent: "I will put enmity between you and the woman and between your offspring and hers; He will crush your head, and you will strike His heel." 

Many scholars define God's Name Yahweh as "Bringing into existence that which exists." To put it into as simple terms as I can: To fulfill. To redeem. When an empty cup that is meant to be filled with water gets filled with water, then that now-filled cup of water has become its purpose-filled self. Redeemed. Not-empty-now-full, as it is meant to be.

Yahweh is Redeemer God. Genesis 3:15 is the first mention of this redemption. God ultimately fulfills His promise in the shedding of Jesus' blood on the cross as payment for our sins. Redemption. Redeemed. Yahweh is our Redeemer.

So here in Exodus 6:3, in the middle of God's reminder of His covenant with the nation of Israel to lead them to the Promised Land, God shows Moses that He will be with them as Yahweh God, Redeemer God.

He tells Moses in Exodus 6:7-8: "Then you will know that I am the Lord your God, Who brought you out from under the yoke of the Egyptians. And I will bring you to the land I swore with uplifted hand to give to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob."

Those two little prepositions are hugely significant. 

See, Moses and the Israelites feel defeated because they're only focusing on out. They've completely forgotten about to.

But God says that out and to are all a part of His redemptive plan for them. If one only draws half a circle, the whole circuit is never completed. The whole plan is never finished. Out is only half of the circle. To is yet to come.

Long after Moses' time, Peter comes along and writes to a post-resurrection church: "You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you OUT of darkness INTO His wonderful light.

We are a people, now, today, struggling with the exhaustion of the out. In an increasingly wicked world, in a world that has turned its back on God, in a world where a congressman stands up and says: "The will of God is of no concern to this congress..." we often want to be done. We often want to leave, to wash our hands of it as Pilate did. To slam the door. 

We forget the promise of the to. We know it's there. We're looking forward to "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him" (1 Corinthians 2:9). 

But here's the thing: We can't have the into without the out of.

Did I just lose you there? Maybe. I almost lost myself. ;) We can't go forward if we have no place to come from. 

God is the great Redeemer. He brings us out of; He leads us into, and both halves of that circle are the great, great plan of salvation!

I am in awe. What else can we do but worship Him who designed such a perfect circle?

At the end of that long, long night, my husband finally loaded up the car, picked up his keys, looked at me and our sleeping son, and said: "Ready to go?"

Boy, was I ever. We walked out of our house for the last time, and drove to our new home. That was the whole story. We completed it. Because we left, we had a place to go.