Water in the Desert [Proper 21A - Exodus 17:1-7]

The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Exodus 17:1-7

 

Water in the desert

 

The desert was dry

The anxiety sky high

The question was: why?

 

Why did God rescue them from slavery in Egypt only to leave them to die a more terrible death: a death of thirst, parched mouths terrorized by the ubiquitous dust, lips broken, organs failing?  Why would Moses and his miraculous staff hatch a brilliant escape plan but not map out the vast wilderness?  Why did it have to end this way?

 

Egypt wasn’t good.  But also it wasn’t death.  There they were abused by their taskmasters.  They were slowly erased, ground into the sandy ground.  It was suffering but suffering with water and food and so suffering they could, at least, survive.  In Egypt, they cried out to God in desperation but not this desperate; out in that dry desert the sands of time poured through the hourglass much more quickly.

 

In Egypt, the future was bleak.  The Hebrew parents lamented the slavery their children would inherit.  They regretted the burdens that would callous their soft hands and bend their tender backs.  That was hard.  But not as hard as watching their own children die of thirst.  That was worse, the worst.  They would do anything for their children.  They would even kill for their children, if necessary.  And Moses knew that.  He could tell they were collecting stones.

 

Moses was in the lead but he was just following orders.  None of this was his idea.  Before his staff was magic, it was just a shepherd’s staff, used for keeping flocks.  He didn’t ask for the bush to burn.  He was fine.  Life was fine.

 

It was God who had other ideas.  And now, because of God, Moses was going to die – either of thirst or blunt force trauma – while fielding endless complaints.  The people wondered out loud why Moses brought them out of Egypt.  Moses was probably wondering the same thing. 

 

Thirst is a legitimate concern, a mortal concern.  They were looking at days, not weeks.  The blazing desert sun and the arid air would only accelerate the process.  And so this wasn’t just theatrics or desert drama; they could not survive without water.  And the clock was ticking because there was no water in Rephidim. 

 

Just like there had been no water in the wilderness of Shur.  Just like there had been no potable water in Marah.  Oh yes, water was often an issue in the desert.  And this was not the first time the people had complained against Moses, about water, during the dry days of their wilderness journey.  In fact, the Red Sea was the last time they had been surrounded by water.

 

But one does not live by water alone; neither does one complain about water alone.  Before this most recent scene, food had been the pressing need.  Before they were dying of thirst, and after they were dying of thirst, they were dying of hunger.  And Moses was to blame for that as well.  And in response to that desperate cry, God sent quails and God sent manna.  And they ate their fill.  But now they needed something to wash it down with and, once again, there is nothing good to drink. 

 

The concerns were legit.  The new future was scary.  They did not know where their next drink would come from.  But also, in that desert, their dehydrated minds forgot something very important: God had never failed them yet.  When they were suffering in Egypt, enslaved and abused, God saved them.  When they were between an enemy army and a Red Sea, God saved them.  When they were dying of thirst (the first time), God saved them.  When their bellies were empty and there was not a bite in sight, God saved them.  Every time they lost their faith and misplaced their hope, God was there.  And God saved them. 

 

God heard every prayer.  God heard every cry.  God treasured every precious tear.  The future was daunting, the present was parched, but the past was paved with salvation.  And in the realm of God, past performance does guarantee future results.  Our help in ages past is our hope for years to come.     

 

God split that water in Egypt.  God sweetened that water in Marah.  And in the wilderness, when hope seemed lost, God found water in a rock.  The sand kept shifting under their blistered feet, but God was their constant.  Though the future felt uncertain, every time they walked into that uncertain future, God was already there.

 

And now the future calls for us – as it is wont to do.  We can feel the winds of change, blowing through our lives and through our community, compelling us into places uncertain and unfamiliar.  Change is never easy – even when it blows in on the breath of God.

 

But the journey into the future is never a lonely trek.  We walk together – in the wake of the God who can split the sea and empty the tomb, who worked marvels in the sight of our ancestors and penned salvation on our past.

 

The future is always uncertain.  But God is not.  God is where you have been, and where you are, and where you are going.  Our help in ages past is our hope for years to come.  The God who is always and forever making all things new, is preparing a place for you in your tomorrow.  And while the details are fuzzy, I suspect the water is fine.