After a long time the king of Egypt died. The Israelites groaned under their slavery, and cried out. Out of the slavery their cry for help rose up to God. Exodus 2:23
Time – it is impossible to capture it, pin it down, hold it in a word. So much time passes, and so few words to express its essence as it elapses. Only glimpses, fleeting moments that reveal a hint of the gravity of each second. During this interval, Moses named his son, “I have become a foreigner in a foreign land.” 40 years in Egypt, 40 years in Midian, and “after a long time…” the gap is abruptly broken by an event, slowing down the space between the period and next capital letter.
This is how it is reading God’s word. So much seems to have been left out, and yet for some reason, I assume the thoughts recorded are the ones I most need to hear. But I’m still left longing for a description of the waiting, looking for insight in the pause, searching for guidance through the void to keep my imagination from running wild in the blankness of the middle where it’s easy to get lost.
