I was driving home on auto-pilot after an exceedingly long day. As I crested the hill before our exit, I saw the flashing blue lights of the police car and a fluorescent sign warning, EXIT CLOSED-CONSTRUCTION. Had the work crew placed the notification just 100 yards sooner, I would have been able to get off earlier and thread my way through town. Instead, I had to drive a twelve mile, very inconvenient detour which landed me in our garage twenty minutes later than I had expected. To heighten my irritation, as I passed the closed ramp, I did not see a single human constructing anything.
Sometimes, God seems to re-direct those who attempt to follow Him as capriciously as the Massachusetts Department of Transportation. And it’s no less irritating or disconcerting.
Mary, mother of Jesus, faced her share of holy detours. The growing child within her womb. The last-minute trek to Bethlehem. I can imagine that by the time Jesus was born, Mary might have have been quite done with the unexpected and more than ready to embrace a life of normalcy.
If Mary had not yet realized that this option disappeared the moment she agreed to God’s terms, it certainly must have dawned on her as she and Joseph began their second major journey—this time to Egypt. Bethlehem to Alexandria is such an odd excursion that Mapquest cannot even suggest a route. A conservative estimate of the distance traveled, by foot, through the desert, would be three hundred miles. And even though her toddler was the Son of God, I’m sure he had a few needy moments.
Did Mary and Joseph doubt? Did they revisit the dreams and the prophecies, agonizing over whether they had made grave mistakes? Did they despair? Did they grumble? Unfortunately, we aren’t offered many details. Matthew 2:14-15 simply reads, “That night, Joseph left Egypt with the child and Mary, his mother. And they stayed [in Egypt] until Herod’s death.” End of narrative.
It’s possible that four or five years passed from the moment of Jesus’ conception until the holy family’s return to Israel. This small slice of history offers us much insight into the reality that when we say “Yes” to God, we must expect unexpected detours.
Though our stories are generally far less dramatic than Mary and Joseph’s, we can find a common through-line. We hunger for God. He responds with an invitation. We accept. Immediately, the enemy of our souls attempts to thwart this divine connection. Perhaps via the death of a spouse. Perhaps by birthing our own other-than-what-we-expected child. Perhaps by producing such an intense dust storm that we can no longer see the compass coordinates. We trudge towards our Egypts with tears running down our cheeks, fighting intense maelstroms of doubt and despair.
Mary and Joseph had the distinct advantage of angelic visitations and prophetic words corroborating their decisions. We rarely have such powerful, supernatural confirmations. Mid-journey, we mostly notice only the ground beneath our weary feet.
Throughout the arc of the Bible, Egypt becomes a metaphor. A destination no one would choose of their own volition. A place where God sends his people in between. Perhaps like me, many of you currently have tent pegs hammered into the hard, dry Egyptian soil. Perhaps you also lie awake at night massaging the variables and querying a mostly silent God, “What are you asking of me?” While I can’t answer that question for myself, let alone for you, I do know that the holy family’s unexpected journey, while lonely and inconvenient, actually saved their son’s life. Though we may never fully understand how much pain God spares us by leading us into the desert, perhaps we can gradually grow in our capacity to trust His plan for these holy detours. And may we all sense the comforting presence of Emmanuel as we journey on through the dark.