In the Middle of a Miracle

“Grandpa Joshua, what was it like when you were walking through the Red Sea?

Did you see any fish? How big were they?

How high were the walls of water?

Were there seashells on the ground? Did they hurt your feet?

What did that pillar of fire look like? Was it super hot? What did it sound like? Did it smell like smoke?

Could you see the sky? Were there stars out that night?

What about the other side of the shore, could you see it? Or was it too curvy? I know the ground was dry, but was it bumpy? Steep?

I sure wish I would have been there, It must have been awesome!”

 

Often I imagine what it must have been like, walking through the waters at the Red Sea. When I read over and over God’s exhortation to Israel to make sure their children and their children’s children knew the stories of the miracles He had done for them, I think about what these conversations might have looked like. You know what I wouldn’t have wanted to have to say?

“Well son, honestly a lot of those things, I didn’t even notice. I was so scared of those Egyptians and worried about the water caving in, all I could think about was getting to the other side.”

Would I blame someone if this was their response? Absolutely not. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if most of them felt this way the entire time.  Nevertheless, God still delivered them.  

But wouldn’t it be cool, to have been there, and in the middle of the sea to look around and make note of the fish, the sky, the sounds and smells, the feelings, to truly remember what it was like to be in the middle of a miracle?

It’s so easy for us to look back now at the miracles and victories in the Bible and forget that they didn’t know the end of their story while they were walking through it.  As we read the play by play, we already know the end. All they had was faith and trust, just like we do today.

But what if instead of being afraid of what we don’t know yet, we lived like we’d already seen the outcome? If the same people that crossed the Red Sea could go back in time, knowing their enemies would be washed away shortly and they would be safe on the other side, do you think they would have stopped briefly to take some pictures? (Yes I know they didn’t have cameras back then, but stay with me.)

What I’m getting at is this: I have promises from God, and I’m sure you do to, for my family, for our provision, our business, our future, and our dreams. There are days that are filled with faith and joy, when the sky seems clear and the promises almost touchable. Then there are other days when it seems like the army is just about to overtake us and how will we possibly make it to the other side? In those moments, I am challenged to live like I already know the end of my story.

 God is both the author and the finisher of my faith.(Hebrews 12:2)  He knows the beginning, the middle, and the end and His end is always good.  Will I let myself be consumed with fear? Or will I open my eyes of faith to see the miracle God is doing all around me? When my children and grandchildren ask me, “What was it like when God was taking you through _____?” I want to be able to remember more than the fear. I want to tell them I worshipped. I want to remember the details. My story is their story too and I believe it will give them faith to walk through even greater miracles than what I’m crossing right now.

God is a good good Father and I believe He has set up my life to declare His faithfulness to this generation and all those to come. So, although it’s not easy, and sometimes the sound of the enemy’s chariots seem so loud they threaten to overtake my hearing, I resolve that my worship will be louder still.

We are indeed in the middle of a miracle and this story is going to be good!