The Gift: Pausing at the Parting of the Waters

When the waves of trial threaten us, pausing at the parting of the waters can make all the difference in finding strength for the journey.

The Parting of the Waters

The other day, I watched The Prince of Egypt with my grandson, caught up in the music that depicted the curious and beautiful story of Moses freeing the Israelites from bondage. In the final scenes, the Israelites came to the borders of the Red Sea. The Egyptians were in hot pursuit, and the Israelites panicked. Moses, by the command of God, put his staff in the waters. The sea split in two, exposing dry land for the Israelites to escape. https://open.spotify.com/track/26LMlybHegFJie3Gj2a7eD?si=n11NSbM3RqKDliMjbcqCFQ

In the movie, the Israelites stood in awe and wonder at the parting, almost forgetting their pursuers. But Exodus 14:22 simply says “And the children of Israel went into the midst of the sea upon the dry ground”. Did the Israelites really stand in awe, fully appreciating the miracle in front of them? Or did they rush through, so focused on the enemy that they hardly noticed the miracle of the walls of water on either side of them? Was there really a pausing at the parting of the waters?

Much of my youth, I lamented the lack of light in my home and the great trials I suffered at the hands of my parents. I wandered from one moment to the other, focused on my own pain and and anguish. Hope for a trouble-free life kept me trying to live the teachings of Jesus. Still, I felt alone and unconnected to the God that supposedly loved me.

Bitterness drove me to give up and simply go with the flow of the influences around me. In a few short months, “freedom” turned into an ugly dark pit, drowning in a never-ending flood. I could not see my way out. In despair, I prayed for deliverance.

Pausing

In time, a dream broke through the despair. I saw myself still in the pit, struggling to swim to the light. A ladder appeared. It was a long ladder and I had to climb out, one rung at a time. My legs were heavy and progress slow. But the water parted.

As I climbed, there was a kind of pausing at the parting of the waters. Images from the first 15 years of my life played on the walls of the pit. They were not images of pain and trauma, but ones of light. When I was a frightened and unprepared first-grader, my kind teacher taught and encouraged me. In the summers, time on the beaches of San Diego and trips to Disneyland with my grandfather were filled with happiness. In a new school as a teenager, a girl reached out and included me in her circle of friends. There was freedom in horseback rides, and strength in the disciplines of a 4-H club.

The pieces of light in my life kept me from being consumed by the ever-reaching waves of evil that taunted me. Seeing the light strengthened my climb.

New Eyes

How did I not see that light before? Was I running through a parted sea, so focused on the dark that threatened to destroy me, that I did not see the walls of consuming water that were miraculously held back so I could move forward?

Sometimes, the waves of pain, grief, and despair try to pull us under. The water threatens to devour our hopes and dreams. Fear or bitterness blinds us to the miracles—small moments of light—that are woven through our lives.

Pausing at the parting of the waters does not end the trials, but can give us the strength. It can help us find a belief that there is something more than the pain or grief that surrounds us. It can free us to find our way through the trials and onto the lighter moments that await us.

Beyond the Shadows: Moving from “Why?” to “What now?”