My son had a nightmare the other night. His footsteps pounded quickly and urgently down the upstairs hallway, he burst into my bedroom, and ran to my side of the bed. He was trying to be quiet, had eyes wide open with fear, and busted out with a question that he needed answered right then, as if his very survival depended on it.
"Would you ever let someone take me, dad?"
I answered quickly. "No, son. I would never let someone take you. I would die first."
Still shaken, but satisfied enough to crawl up next me, he lies close and gets still. His mind is still ticking, however, and I know it because he explained, "I had a nightmare that you did."
I'm wide awake now, and I don't know if it's because I'm studying the Exodus story or not, but I started imagining what his dream might have been, and it pierced my heart. I imagined him watching me decide to "let him go" away from me and what kind of emotion that would strike a vulnerable child's heart.
Moses must have felt like he was in the same nightmare, when God told him, "Leave this place, you and the people you brought up out of Egypt, and go up...to the land flowing with milk and honey. But I will not go with you." (Exodus 33:1-3)
Moses went running into Yahweh's throne room, urgently and quickly, trying to be reverent, but shaken and full of fear, saying, "If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here. How will anyone know that you are pleased with me and with your people unless you go with us? What else will distinguish me and your people from all the other people on the face of the earth?" (Exodus 33:15-16)
Today, we learn that God didn't just go with them, but took up residence with them, lived with them, dwelt among them, and in doing so, gave them the ultimate gift: Himself.
And in Christ, the Exodus story about God's residence among people is yours, too. And when we wonder if God will let us go, he says to you what I said to Shade: "I would die first."