On the first night of Passover...

...I'm watching The Prince of Egypt.  I've been thinking about it all day really, as I read Facebook updates of my Jewish friends preparing.  Today I realized, or maybe just remembered since I've always known, that the story they celebrate is my history too.  Sometimes it's so easy to think of "us" and "them;" Christian and Jewish. But they are our spiritual family.  Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Moses are my spiritual history too.

So tonight it's personal.  Tonight it's my history, and the opening song made me cry:

With the sting of the whip on my shoulder,
with the salt of my sweat on my brow:
Elohim, God on High, do you hear your people cry?
Help us now, this dark hour!

Deliver us!
Hear our call: deliver us!
Lord of all, remember us here in this burning sand.
Deliver us!
There's a land you promised us.
Deliver us to the promised land!

Deliver us!
Hear our prayer: deliver us!
These years of slavery grow too cruel to stand.
Deliver us!
There's a land you promised us.
Deliver us out of bondage and deliver us to the promised land.


As I listened, I couldn't help but think back to all the times I have offered this very prayer: Deliver me!  I am so thankful for a God who listens to the prayers of a single person.  Even the most unimportant prayers are heard.  I may not have been completely delivered all the times I've asked, but my burdens have been made light.

As we approach the celebration of the most important event in human history, I find my heart full of gratitude for all the very many ways I and all my ancestors (biological and spiritual) have been delivered.