The Exodus From Religion

A meditation on leaving fear behind

We are the people of the Exodus.

For so long we lived in captivity, chained in the Egypt of our Religion.

Fear was our Pharaoh and he was cruel and brutal.

For years we toiled in the bondage of our captor, our backs bent over and our shoulders rubbed raw by everything piled high upon them. Spend enough
time like that and you begin to grow used to the fear, even dependent on it.
Terrified by what is outside the walls that hold you, you wonder if captivity is
the best you can ever hope for. In fact, you get so used to being beaten down
and used up, you start to believe that you deserve it all: the damage, the
hunger, the wounds, the inhumanity. Slavery begins to feel normal.

We know well what Egypt can do to a soul.

When you're a slave you forget how much you're really worth. You forget you're
made of what God is made of. You forget your own goodness because you hear
only of your depravity. And eventually you give up on the idea of ever being free,
until one day you hear a quiet voice whispering in your ear that says, "Today,
we're getting out of here."

It is Truth; one that seemed like only a brittle, fading myth scribbled on crumbling parchment.

That Truth is your Moses there to lead you from Religion. When it speaks—listen
to it.

We were terrified too but for some reason we listened anyway, either out of
complete desperation or to preserve the last bit of hope still burning like a small, glowing ember in the center of our chests. And as we did, we heard Truth shouting ahead of us, "Fear, let these people go! They are dying here!"

And in the chaos of that moment, we started walking out, our backs to Religion
and our faces toward the mystery waiting. As we moved our spirits and heads
began to rise, until we found our toes pressed up against a cold, churning sea
that seemed fully prepared to swallow us up. Behind us, massive armies of dogma and doctrine assembled and began to nip at our heels, screaming that this was 
the best we could hope for and that we should turn back toward it.

And for a terrifying moment we paused to weigh whether to return to live in
Egypt as slaves or to move forward freely into the unknown. This was not an
easy decision. Captivity is terrible but it's a familiar terrible. It's not that staying
feels right, it's just that you're unsure what lies beyond it. For all the oppression
and all the restriction, there is no risk in Egypt. The risk, lies in not being sure
what you are moving toward and still moving; not knowing what is waiting in the wilderness ahead; the questions and doubts and every unknown thing swirling
in your head, and stepping forward anyway.

But we listened to Truth’s voice and we kept walking, certain we would drown in
all that we did not know.

And with each step, the raging, shouting waves of worry gradually started to
part, receding beyond the corners of our peripheral vision and giving us wide
berth onto the dry path toward the Promised Land. The journey hasn't been
without heartbreak but we have crossed into the land Truth said would be ours.

And we send word from Canaan to you who are still in Egypt, to tell you what is
here waiting. There is no condemnation here, no punishment, no guilt to shoulder. There is no foot upon your neck, no cruel master waiting to squash you. 

There is only the lush, wide open space of freedom where you can ask anything
and say everything and know you are safe in all of it. Truth is a far kinder master
than Fear ever could be, with a yoke that is easy on your shoulders. All the regrets, guilt, and harsh words heaped upon you by Fear all fall away in Truth's presence,
and you realize this is how it was always supposed to be. This is the good place
that is your rightful home.

We are just beginning to live within the vast emancipation that Truth promised us.

We are set free indeed and this is what we wish for you.

Don't settle for Egypt when you are made for milk and honey. 

Even with the tempest in front of you and Pharaoh's armies close behind, believe
the voice that tells you there is more than captivity. And as you walk, watch the
water move, hear the chains fall to the ground, and listen to the sound of your
heart beating again. It is like being born again. 

We'll see you in the promised land.