A Willing God

Exodus 12

The hot Egyptian sun
baked down on him
until he felt as hard and dry
as the bricks
that he was forced to make.
Since he had been a child
he had slaved in the unforgiving sun
with his family,
turning out brick after brick,
turning straw into buildings.
In his dryness,
In his hardness
Hope had evaporated.
Taken from him.
Stolen.
With his childhood
With his freedom.

Joel was fourteen.
Old enough to be a man.
Young enough to see
endless years of slavery
stretching before him.
He used to laugh at his name,
which meant "God will be willing."
What God?
There was no God.
There was only mud,
And straw,
Whips and sun.

So when his younger brothers
Came home excited to tell the news,
News of frogs and gnats,
News of boils and water like blood,
He scoffed.
God, come to deliver them?
Never.
Leave here?
Grasp freedom?
There is nothing else.
There is just sun, mud, and work.
Slavery.

The time came
When the younger brothers
brought news from Moses and Aaron.
Kill a calf.
Prepare a hurried meal.
Don't leaven the bread,
Don't take the time.

"Tuck your cloak into your belt
Keep your sandles on your feet,
and your staff in your hand." *

The news was that the first born
would die tonight.
His parents followed Moses word
Spreading blood on the doorframe,
As they watched him
Out of the corners of their eyes.
He was their first born.

In turn, he watched them,
as they prepared a hasty meal
And prepared to flee.
To leave.
And something in him
stirred to life.

He stood in the doorframe
Protected by a willing God
And listened to the cries of the ones
Whose firstborns were dead.

Part of Joel died that night.
The part that was hopeless.
The part that did not believe
He was changed
by his willing God.

He tucked his cloak into his belt,
Put on his sandles,
Picked up his staff,
and prepared to do the unbelievable.
Began to hope for the unimaginable,
and placed his faith
in a willing God.

* Exodus 12:11, paraphrased.