You are my Egypt—
A place where I was enslaved,
Bruised and broken by your hand.
Longing to be free from your burning grip,
I cried out to God for deliverance.
Then He gave me my Red Sea,
A path to run toward freedom.
Joyous as a buzzing bee,
I praised the Lord for rescuing me.
But as I walked in growth,
Wandering the wilderness,
Airing out my wounds,
I caught myself looking back
Missing the heat of shackles on my skin,
The warmth of your hand in mine,
The comfort of a familiar voice.
You are my Egypt.
No matter how much wrong you’ve done,
I still find myself longing for you.
It’s funny, isn’t it?
How pain becomes distorted by nostalgia?
I am lonely.
I miss being loved.
I miss being seen.
The calls, the laughter—
I miss it all.
Then God whispered:
"My child, stop.
Do not be like Lot’s wife,
Looking back at bridges I called you to burn,
At places desolate and barren,
Where no fruit can grow.
You cried for freedom—
Did you forget?
You begged Me to release you
From oppression and suffering.
And I did.
I know this season feels lonely,
But listen to the Spirit within you,
Not the shifting desires of your flesh.
Come to Me.
Let Me free your mind from Egypt’s grip,
For freeing your body was only the first step.
Look around this wilderness
See how the plants wither,
How the animals thirst.
This place lacks the one thing you truly need:
The living water.
Drink from Me, a well that never runs dry.
Eat from Me, the bread of life,
So you will never hunger again.
Egypt made you a glutton,
Filling you with yeastful lies.
But once you drink from My fountain,
You will thirst no more.
Allow Me to free you.
Allow us to grow deeper.
Trust Me to be your Shepherd,
Guiding you past the horizon
To a land overflowing with milk and honey.”