Order Disorder Reorder Part 2: DisorderChikamu

Fight For You

Caught between a rock and a hard place and with an army of bloodthirsty Egyptians bearing down on them, Moses told the Israelites, “The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still."

And the rest is history: the parting of the water, the safe passage on dry ground to the other side, the enemies of God’s people swallowed by the sea…

I was always encouraged to take stories like this personally and map them onto my own story--as though the Israelites are a stand-in for me—so that when I find myself in between my own rock and a hard place, I should look to God to part the seas in my life and lead me safely to the other side.

Some might say it’s inappropriate, narcissistic, or just naive to pull these stories out of their historical context and try to apply them to our own personal lives. I understand that critique. And yet, it also seems clear that these stories have been handed down to us for that very purpose: to not only teach us but also to integrate into our own story.

As Rich Mullins sang in “Boy Like Me/Man Like You”:
“They say stories like that make a boy grow bold
Stories like that make a man walk straight…”

In other words, I believe we are meant to take these stories personally.

When I do that with the story of Moses and the Israelites at the Red Sea, however, the words of Exodus 14:14 can be as frustrating as they are encouraging.

The hope that in the midst of my trouble God is working behind the scenes, fighting for me, is a great encouragement. When the odds are against me and I’m up against the ropes, so pummeled by life that I barely have the strength to hold my hands up to block the punches, the thought of an unseen, unconquerable force defending me can make all the difference.

But it can be frustrating too, precisely because that unconquerable force is so very unseen. And when life’s punches just keep coming one after another, it can feel like I’m all alone with no help in sight. In those moments, a verse like this feels like a mockery of my suffering.

“These words are a lie!” my weary and wounded heart cries out. “You’re a fool to believe this!” my pain accuses me.

And yet I’ve seen the truth of Romans 8:28 play out time and again: God somehow working all things together for some kind of good. 

As I think about the most painful parts of my story, it’s only now, many years later, that I can see how they produced some of the things I’m most grateful for in my life: compassion, endurance, depth, authenticity, wisdom, patience, humility… the list goes on. 

These best parts of who we are do not come to life by accident. As Elizabeth Kubler-Ross wrote, “Beautiful people do not just happen.”

There were long nights in those dark seasons when my faith was tested to the breaking point (and sometimes even beyond) when fear, doubt, and pain consumed me like a wildfire.

But later, when the smoke cleared, I could see more clearly how God, my deliverer and the author and finisher of my faith, was at work—if not always fighting for my cause, he was certainly always fighting for my heart, making me into the person I most want to be.

I’ve seen the eventual reveal of God’s faithfulness enough times to hope that maybe it means he’s fighting for me in my current trouble—even if I can’t see it today. Like the three Hebrews thrown into the furnace, I have hope that when the smoke clears I will see that there was another in the fire with me all along (Daniel 3:25).

But the furnace is hot, and the smoke burns and blinds, making it hard to see. So until I can see him, I will preach Exodus 14:14 to myself.