exodus 12.

I have been fiddling with this brush for hours.

I washed it four times, and still cannot wipe from my mind the image of the blood.

For weeks now things have been happening. The water turned. The locusts came. Then the darkness. For three days the sun disappeared. Life has been turned upside down.

And now this. Now we sit here in the dark of the evening. She has been so strong. My wife held her tears back tonight as we ate dinner. She kissed him on the head once and held him close – I thought she would break. He knows something is going on, he has always been a sharp boy.

Moses sounded so sure when he told us what to do. Slay the lamb and eat its flesh. Spread its blood upon the doorway of our homes. The Lord will pass through town, and our first-born son would survive the night, while those of Egypt would not.

He is growing so quickly. Eleven years has passed, and here there is gray in my beard as his has yet to come in. A few more years now. He has learned much watching me and working alongside me at home. We are so proud of him, and my heart is glad when he joins me during the day. “How tall he is!” My friends say, “You look like your mother – how fortunate you are!” they tell him. He has so much promise.

Three little ones in our home now. If I am to go, he will have to take care of them. He is strong and with a good way about him. I am confident he could do so.

If we just survive the night.

My wife has not let go of my hand for the last few hours. She has finally fallen asleep. We have been sitting here on the floor since sundown, and I have not quit staring at the front door. I cannot rest. I cannot sleep.

My son.

The blood of the lamb.

The darkness outside.

It is almost too much for me to hold inside.

My heart is full of fear, hope, and love for my family – for my son.

Moses has said this is the word of the Lord, and that he will deliver us – that tonight our homes will be passed over – that my boy will make it through the darkness.

He said the Lord will bring freedom to us, his people. He says that the Lord is making a covenant to us. Soon we will not be slaves.

The lamb had been with us in the home for a few weeks now. With hyssop I spread its blood on the doorpost. We ate its flesh as we stood, dressed as if we were to leave after we ate.

The hyssop is stained now, it will not be free of the blood.

My wife and I hope in the Lord.

My son sleeps, I can hear him breathing.

The stillness is now broken by the cries of mothers into the night. It is a cry of terror and sadness. It is a cry of deepest loss.

It is midnight.

The Lord has passed over us; the blood of the lamb has covered us.

The Lord is delivering his people.

*the last month or so I have been listening to an album that is stirring my heart and the way I view the stories that I have known for so long from the Bible. It is calling for attention to the fierce love of God for us, his people, who are often so fearful and hopeful at the same time. We are his creation, made to know him and champion him above all else. He is God, and he is good. He has woven our redemption throughout history, and has moved time and again to bring us close to him – to deliver us from ourselves and sin, to reconcile us to himself and make us as we were meant to be: undivided in our hearts towards Him.

The spotless lamb has covered us for eternity, because Christ has let his blood be spent for our forgiveness. He has reached to the very part of our soul that hopes for truth to be real and for love to be possible, and breathed life and hope. He continues to do so through the Holy Spirit. He continues to make us new. Let us hope in Him, follow his ways and trust God who does what he says; that the blood of Christ is enough and we can pursue our life in him.

exodus 12.

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