God understood.
That’s the line that keeps jumping out for me as I re-read through the story of Moses, his early childhood, his exile in the wilderness, and finally his triumphant return to lead his people. This line comes courtesy of The Message translation, which I love because it reads in narrative form. It comes at one of his many low points, while spending years in exile from his people, his homeland… simply waiting. Like all of us, at this point in his life he didn’t have the benefit of hindsight. He didn’t know how his story ended. All he had was the present and a promise.
The narrator didn’t have to go into detail about how Moses felt. It’s seemingly left up to us the reader (or more accurately, the storyteller as the story was passed down orally first for generations), to decipher for ourselves how he felt. The names that he gives his children in this land provide some kind of signal. Forgotten. Abandoned.
But God saw what was going on, and God understood, and God remembered.
Last night my daughters London and Olivia kicked off their school’s volleyball season with a victory. As long-suffering supporters of their JV, middle, and varsity teams over the years, last night was a testament to how far they’ve evolved. Years ago they lost every game. Last year, they produced their first winning season, making it all the way to the state playoffs, losing in heartbreaking fashion. This year they’re starting off on a mission, to actually win a championship.
As I talked to new parents on the sidelines, I couldn’t help but be a little jealous of where they’re entering into our story. It’s like joining the Warriors circa 2015 in Kerr’s first season as head coach, just when things were finally starting to click. At the time, I don’t think anyone realized how close they were to a dynasty, but they’d been putting in the work and their years of toiling in the metaphorical desert had taught them some things about perseverance.
Sometimes our stories make more sense in reverse.
Our recent family reunion, the girls start to the school year, even my own business ventures, have all been signaling to me that our story is still in progress. In the waiting, especially when you’re waiting for something good, I find myself wanting to speed time up. But then I think about what I’d miss, and it’s these moments happening right now. In two years my oldest daughter will graduate from high school. And for at least the next 24 months, we will have the full spectrum of organized chaos that comes from a household of 4 daughters across elementary, middle, and high school under one roof. I’m living the dream, and sometimes I have to remind myself that these are the good old days, even if they don’t always feel like it. Even if instead it feels exhausting, stressful, or overwhelming.
Which brings me back to Moses’s story. Now, because I’m already familiar with how it ends, I have the benefit of hindsight. So I can definitively say from my perspective that it was all worth it. But I wonder, how did Moses feel about that season in the wilderness while he was waiting, while he was being prepared for what was next? What did he hold onto in the meantime?
Maybe in the oral retelling of his story, he led with this realization: I didn’t know how all of this would turn out, but God understood. And that’s all I needed to know.
That’s more than enough to comfort me in this season of hope and change.
SDW3
everyday fatherhood 