It was a remorseless hatred that enslaved a people many millennia ago in the captivity of those who worshiped the sun and the moon and the gods in the stars and of the earth and beneath the earth. In toil and despair the people were flogged and cursed by the searing whip, scorched by the flaming desert sun above and burned by the abrasive sand below their feet. In agony, they cried out for rescue from the malice-bred bondage of the kingdom. "How long?" While ridden with anguish, their captors became plagued with disease and death, and so the enslaved fled. Within a day, they reached the edge of a vast sea from which mountains grew blocking them in on both sides, and as they looked back in terror they witnessed their captor's army quickly approaching. A watery death spread out before them while a spear-pierced death raced in from behind. Yet their cries for help were not unheard... billowing clouds rolled in and a tower of fiery blaze appeared as manifestations of the theophanic Glory-Spirit protecting and separating the people from the approaching wrath. With no where to go, the great sea split apart, and before them a narrow path was unveiled through the voided waters for the people to pass through to their deliverance. The army rushed in after them only to be swallowed by the raging sea that had just brought life for those who had been enslaved, but now brought death to the death that had held them captive.
Life for the people of God is a pilgrim journey through an alien wilderness under the shadow of death. So it was in days long ago. So it is in ours.


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