Blessed in Sorrow

Psalm 148; Isaiah 63:7-9; Matthew 2:13-23; Hebrews 2:10-18

Central Baptist Church—Lowesville, VA

30 December 2007

Life is fraught with problems. We deal with anxiety over the unknown. We rehearse the stress and toil of the past and project our unresolved fears into the unknown future. Experience tells us that our health, wealth, and welfare are always tenuous. Amid the sorrow and uncertainties, can we rest assured of the blessing of God’s care and presence?

“Out of Egypt have I called my son.” The phrase would ring with clear understanding for any Jew of the First Century. “Out of the land of Mitzraim” is the way they would have proclaimed it in the annual Passover celebrations. Egypt, Mitzraim, place of bondage, sorrow, suffering, and meaningless toil. It was a concept rekindled in the face of Roman occupation. Life would never seem more rank than living in their own land, yet forced to pay a heavy tax penalty to foreign oppression.

Foreign oppression had forcibly uprooted them from their home. They had made the arduous trek to Bethlehem, forced to find whatever lodging could be had on a day-laborer’s wages. When the time came for Mary to give birth, there was no appropriate place at the inn. They took refuge in the shelter of a stable, so as not to defile the guests with the ritual impurity associated with birthing. Life for this family was hard. It was made harder by the stresses of foreign oppression. News of a plot to kill the child sent them on another trek, this time to Egypt and away from Herod’s grasp.

As though moving to Bethlehem to pay taxes were not enough, now the family was forced to travel once again. This time the path takes them to Egypt, itself a figure of bondage, oppression, and sorrow, as well as a reminder of the epic exodus of Moses’ day. We are reminded of the wilderness wanderings of a people under Moses. We are reminded of Moses’ own flight from Egypt under threat of Pharaoh’s vengeance. We are reminded of a nation’s founding as Yahweh rescued a band of slaves from the hand of the greatest empire of its time.

Not only did the nation suffer as slaves in Egypt, not only had the people been carted off to captivity in Babylon, not only had they suffered years under Roman domination, now Jesus is likewise sent into exile under threat of death. Before Jesus can be called out of Mitzraim—the land of bondage and sorrow—he had first to be sent there in exile.

As immigrants coming to this land from Central America, they traveled mostly unwelcome through various parts. They struggled to adapt to varying customs; they struggled with different languages; they struggled for the opportunity to work, eat, and survive in a foreign land. Likely, they sought refuge among other Jews living throughout the Roman Empire. They sought out the places of prayer and meeting, struggling to make sense of their new surroundings and the new ways of living in foreign lands.

There was no minivan with DVD players to amuse a child on the long journey. There were no rest areas along interstate highways, Cracker Barrels, or Wal-Mart for easy access to meals and supplies. Travel was hard. Travel was mainly on foot. Travel was dangerous, leaving a young family exposed to dangers from a wild and rough countryside. It was a rough trek of some 200 miles, progressing less than ten miles per day. Perhaps we should be amazed that they made it. Perhaps we should be surprised that they did not fall prey to bandits, wild animals, or hunger. Then again, we should recall God’s provision and protection all along the way.

Homeless along the journey, sleeping exposed to the elements and in constant danger, they were nevertheless in the center of God’s care and provision. They grew weary of the long hours of walking or riding animals. Nursing, feeding, and caring for a child on such a journey was no simple task. The grind of constant movement gave them ample time to wonder about the need for such an exodus. We would all question, fume, and grieve over a month-long journey to an unknown land. We would wonder how this could be part of God’s provision, grace, and mercy. We would likely miss God’s presence and participation in this deportation under threat of those seeking power, domination, and control.

Could not God have accomplished dealing with Herod’s threat in some other way? Why not just make his soldiers blind to the child’s presence, as the soldiers of Aram in the day of Elisha? Why not allow Herod to sicken and die, offering relief to the whole nation, not simply overcoming the threat to Jesus? Why not protect Jesus in some other, less-demanding, less-stressful way? Did it all have to be so hard? Did they really have to escape for their lives if God were with them and on their side?

They made it to Egypt under God’s care. Once they began to get used to their new surroundings and way of life, God sent them back home. Having made the trip once did not make it any easier. Perhaps they knew where they were going this time, but they could also anticipate more clearly all the problems faced on the first leg of the journey. They would face different issues this time, caring for a child in a different stage of growth.

New questions would arise now, as they wondered how they would be received. How would they manage to begin life once more in the Judean countryside? How would they find the resources to feed, clothe, and house themselves after leaving all behind twice? It is difficult to begin life anew. It is hard to start over in a new place. It is work to build new friendships and support systems. What they had accomplished in Egypt was behind them. The work to begin life anew lay before them.

Herod was gone, but Archelaus reigned in his stead. Joseph did not return to their old home, but to a new life in Nazareth. Would God truly care for them in this new place? Would they be forced to move again and again in fear of their very lives? Why was all this even necessary?

Years ago, I was told that a cardinal rule of good leadership was never to ask of others what I was not willing to do myself. I have no right to ask others to clean toilets if I am not willing to do the same. I have no right to burden others with tasks I am unwilling to fulfill. I have no right to place others in a situation that I would find unacceptable. It seems that God lives by this same principle, as well.

With Joseph and Mary, I wonder about all the problems we face in life. With these two so human characters, I ponder the questions of why things must be as they are. I question why suffering, sorrow, and discomfort are part and parcel of existence. I am prone to forget that God does not stand aloof from the burdens I bear, but is an integral part of my journey out of the land of my Mitzraim.

As they struggled with the issues of fleeing for their lives, rebuilding life in a foreign land, and returning to a new life in Judah, it was easy to overlook God’s presence in the midst of their family. While they considered protecting and caring for little Jesus, God provided for their needs, as well. God was ever present, blessing them with care and provision all along the way. They had a choice to decide whether to depend on that blessing or delve deeper into sorrow and despair. Do we count on God’s provision to see us through our own sorrow? He is just as present, if we would but see him.

—©2007 Christopher B. Harbin