Mar 18, 2024 5 min read wilderness

Finding God on Day 2

We can’t skip Day 2 of our stories.

For our reflection during this week of Lent, we consider Exodus 16:2-30, the story of manna from heaven. I include here a few reflections from my recently co-authored book, Hard and Holy Work.

We do not often remember the middle of a story. For instance, a movie can begin with an incredible opening scene we will never forget, or the first lines of a book can captivate us and immediately draw us in. Likewise, the ending can tie things together in a way that leaves us feeling satisfied, or it can be so shocking we cannot click “next episode” fast enough on our Netflix queue. But I cannot think of a single book, movie, or story about which I would say, “Wow, wasn’t the middle of the story just incredible.”

The middle is often where things begin to fall apart. The way forward is no longer clear. Trust is broken, and relationships become complicated. In other words, the middle is where things get messy. We long for a world of adventurous beginnings and fairytale endings, but we would rather not go through what happens in the middle to get us from point A to point B.

We cannot avoid or escape the middle parts of our stories, as painful or difficult as they may be. Brene Brown, a professor and researcher of shame, vulnerability, and empathy, says, “the middle is messy, but it’s also where the magic happens." (Brene Brown, Rising Strong: How the Ability to Reset Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead (Random House, 2017), 12.) She was in the midst of leading a three-day training through her organization, when she realized no matter where she was, or who she was working with, the middle day of the training, Day 2, would always get messy and was by far the most challenging day for everyone involved. Finally, some of the facilitators started coming back to her and asking if they could rewrite the curriculum, because they really wanted to skip the material for Day 2. That was when it dawned upon her: Day 2 represents this messy middle kind of work we often want to avoid. It’s a self-revealing moment of honesty.

Day 2, she says, is “when you’re ‘in the dark’ – the door has closed behind you. You’re too far in to turn around, and not close enough to the end to see the light.” In her work with veterans and members of the military, she says, “they know it as ‘the point of no return’ – an aviation term coined by pilots for the point in a flight when they have too little fuel left to return to their originating airfield. (Brene Brown, Rising Strong: How the Ability to Reset Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead (Random House, 2017), 26-27.)

We can’t skip Day 2 of our stories.

In many ways, we are on Day 2 of the work for justice within our world. In the midst of a long-overdue racial reckoning in our country, the fight for women to have a seat at the table, the work to protect the rights of the LGBTQ+ community, the striving to create a world accessible and equitable for people of all abilities, we cry out, “How long, oh Lord?” It is the messy middle. Many have made the commitment and begun the work, but now what? In fact, for some who have been fighting for justice for a long time, it may feel like a perpetual Day 2. It may be difficult, but let us acknowledge where we are, name the chaos of the middle, and remember that while we cannot skip over it, Day 2 is never the end of God’s story.

Complaining in the Wilderness

Exodus 16 is metaphorically Day 2, where we find the Israelites in the wilderness. It has been almost two months since God delivered the people of Israel from slavery under the rule of Pharaoh and parted the waters of the sea so the Israelites could march through on dry ground to the other side. These events were wonderful and miraculous, but in Exodus 16, the Israelites find themselves in the middle of the wilderness, without food or water, unsure of what is next, and worried about how they are going to survive. Their situation on Day 2 is dire, and there is no Day 3 in sight.

And so they begin to complain.

It is easy to criticize while not in the wilderness with them – on foot - with no food and no place to call home. Perhaps the Israelites are less pathetically whiny and more realistically human.

To judge the Israelites for their bad attitudes would suggest complaining has no place in our life with God, which is not true. The book of Psalms gives voice to many different complaints about experiences of abandonment, suffering, grief, and fear. Job freely expresses his complaints against God. And from the cross, Jesus cries out in a voice of complaint: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.” When we judge the Israelites, we tend to distance them and their experiences from our own. But we too have the ability to act in this same manner.

Dr. Elna Solvang, Professor of Religion at Concordia College says, “At its core, complaint is a turning to God – not away from God.” To offer a complaint shows a willingness to be completely open and utterly vulnerable with God about our deepest needs. It also demonstrates courage to name in lament a situation as not fully just. We recognize in the complaint the world is not how it should be. Complaint then becomes a form of paying attention and being willing to see what is true and not ignore it. If you find yourself needing to offer a word of complaint to God, know there is space for that. There is space for complaint in Scripture and in the history of the people of God.

Every year during the season of Advent, our congregation at Highland Baptist Church in Louisville creates a memorial on our front lawn filled with white crosses in memory of everyone killed by acts of violence within our city that year. It is a demonstration of public lament for and with our city as each year, we continue to experience record-breaking numbers of homicides. It was especially harrowing in 2020 when we created more than 140 crosses including the names of Breonna Taylor, and several others who were engaged in various ways in the local protests: David McAtee, a Black restaurant owner who was shot by the National Guard, Tyler Gerth, a local photographer shot at Injustice Square, and Travis Nagdy, one of the and most vibrant and energetic local leaders of the movement. More than 71% of homicide victims in 2020 were Black, and 75% were under the age of 34.

We hope the crosses on the lawn offer a sacred space in our city during what is supposed to be “the most wonderful time of year” for people also to turn aside, to see and remember the pain, heartbreak, and loss so many in our community are experiencing. However, this practice of paying attention and offering prayers of complaint at our street corner must extend to action far beyond the Highlands neighborhood. Otherwise, our prayers are merely platitudes. We cannot participate in this public act of lament without it moving us to do prophetic work for justice. Lauren Jones Mayfield and Mary Alice Birdwhistell, pastors at Highland Baptist Church, co-wrote in the Louisville Courier-Journal in 2020, “For Christians, this holiday season includes waiting on the birth of Jesus, a holy child who comes to teach us the way of peace through justice and love. Born into political upheaval in the first century, Jesus knows about bearing light among corrupt systems of darkness. He comes to us now in 2020, once again bearing light amidst the darkness of gun violence, systemic racism, generational poverty, and unjust laws. And we need that light more than ever before this year. On our front lawn are over 140 reasons why.”