Tuesday, February 24, 2026
Estelle Frankel, a teacher of Jewish mysticism, describes how the story of Exodus reveals our human preference for what is known, even if something new may be better for us:
All freedom journeys require an open mind—a mind that is not conditioned by past knowledge and experience, but open to possibility. Questioning opens the doors of our imagination, enabling us to consider alternatives to the status quo. Unless one is capable of imagining another possible reality, one cannot free oneself from bondage.…
We humans are creatures of habit. Our daily routines comfort us and make us feel secure for they allow us to know and predict what is going to happen. (OUTCOMES) Resistance to change is actually built into our evolutionary writing….
The compulsion to repeat the past is apparent in the biblical myth of the Exodus. When Moses led the Israelites to freedom, they often yearned to return to Egypt. Though they were miraculously provided for throughout their forty years of wandering in the desert, the Israelites were often nostalgic for the “good old (bad) days” in Egypt: “We remember the fish we ate free in Mitzrayim—also the cucumber, melons, leeks, onions and garlic” (Numbers 11:5)…. They missed the predictability and sense of control they felt in Egypt—where everything was known. Though in actuality they were oppressed and enslaved by the Egyptians, the Israelites looked back on their time in Egypt with nostalgia because they could not bear the uncertainty they faced as a free people.
Freedom is, ultimately, uncertain and unpredictable. One of the first lessons we all must learn in order to be free is how to “bear” uncertainty and trust in the unknown. In the biblical myth of the Exodus, the manna was a vehicle for learning this lesson. Each day for forty years, the Israelites would have to go out and gather their daily supply of manna—just enough for that day….
The manna provided the necessary preparation for becoming a free people, for freedom requires an ability to bear uncertainty, to not know what is going to happen next, and to trust in the unfolding journey.
The “manna” of our daily lives is an opportunity for us to practice this same beginner’s mind.
The manna challenged the Israelites to develop beginner’s mind—to experience something new and fresh while eating the very same thing each day. Instead of seeking the answers that might put their questions to rest, the manna taught the Israelites to continually live the questions, to understand that the journey to freedom is about remaining awake and curious and not going into sleep mode….
Beginner’s mind is a way of life. Each day we are challenged to see the same familiar people and landscapes with new eyes. Just as the cosmos is created and sustained anew each moment, everything is alive and changing, ourselves included, if we are spiritually awake and paying attention…. When we see existence as alive with possibility, we come out of Egypt, our personal places of bondage and constriction.
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Something better than what you’re asking for
A powerful story about an experience with my son…
| TYSON BRADLEYFEB 23 |
I was gone the past three days at a conference where I got to listen to and interact with Paul Young, the author of The Shack. On the way to the airport on Friday, my wife was driving me, and my 3-year-old son Luca fell asleep in the car. I didn’t want to wake him up, so I just left. Didn’t say goodbye. Just slipped out.
My wife told me later that when he woke up, the first thing he said was, “Where’s Daddy?”
Now, you need to know something about Luca. I have three kids, and my older daughters never really preferred one parent over the other, but Luca… he likes me. He asks for me, wants to play games with me, wants to be around me. So knowing that he woke up asking for me and I wasn’t there… that was a little sad.
Fast forward three days. I get picked up from the airport, and Luca is asleep again. He kinda stirred when we got home, enough for me to carry him inside and put him to bed, but it wasn’t this full awareness that I was back. He didn’t really know I was there.
Then this morning, I woke up to crying.
I go into his room and hush his cries, which is usually all I need to do for him to be okay and get back to sleep. But after I left, the crying started again. This time he wanted water. So I got him some water, he took a drink, I left… and heard more crying shortly after.
I go back in and say, “What’s up, buddy?”
He mumbles something I can’t understand.
I ask again. “What did you say?”
More mumbling.
After a few more tries, I’m finally able to make out what he’s saying:
“I want to sleep in Daddy’s bed.”
And here’s the thing… I told him, “You can’t sleep in Daddy’s bed right now.” And he just cried even more. It felt like it broke his heart. Here I’ve been gone all this time, and all he wants is just to be close to me. Just to sleep in my bed.
It was already time for me to get up and do my morning call, so I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep. And I knew he needed more sleep, so having him come to my bed wasn’t going to work either. But I said, “I’m going to do something even better.”
I picked him up and just held him. Sat in the rocking chair in his room, and just held him.
I felt such love for him in that moment. And he calmed down. After about 10 minutes, I put him back in his bed, and he was fine. He was good.
So here’s where this gets bigger than a cute story about my kid.
I can come and go. And Luca can feel the reality of that, the weight of my absence. He woke up and I wasn’t there. He came home and didn’t fully know I was back. That separation was real for him.
But with God, we’re not separate. He doesn’t leave for three days. He doesn’t slip out while we’re sleeping. He’s not at a conference somewhere. He’s with us… always.
Now, I know that doesn’t always feel true. Sometimes it feels like God is gone. Sometimes it feels like you’re waking up in a dark room calling out, “Where’s Daddy?” And the silence can be heavy.
But here’s what I’ve found… even when we feel like we’re separate from God, even when we call out and it seems like nobody’s answering, the moment we say, “I just want to be close to You, Father. I just want to sleep in Your bed,” something happens.
And maybe God’s response is similar to mine with Luca. Maybe it’s, “It’s not time for that yet.” It’s not time to come and live with Him fully, to end this human life and go dwell with Him forever. That’s not what this moment is for.
But He wants to do something even better than what you’re asking for.
He wants to hold you. Right here. Right now. Not in some future heaven, not after you’ve earned it or figured it out, but in this moment, in the middle of your crying, in the middle of your dark room, in the middle of whatever you’re going through.
And in that holding, in that closeness, you can rest. Just like Luca resting in my arms in the rocking chair, you can rest in God’s presence and find that everything is okay.
And if you’re willing to allow that… if you’re willing to just let yourself be held instead of striving and reaching for something you think you need… you’ll find that there’s not just peace, but a freedom. A freedom from fear. A freedom from doubt. A freedom from shame. A freedom that allows you to act in the truth of who you are.
So I just want to invite you into something simple today. Whatever you’re carrying, whatever room you’re crying in, whatever absence you’re feeling… just tell God what Luca told me.
“I just want to be close to You.”
And then let Him pick you up.
Discussion Questions
Opening/Observation: What word, image, or moment from either reading stayed with you?
Moving inward: Frankel says the Israelites were nostalgic for Egypt — a place of oppression — because at least it was known. Where in your own life do you notice yourself reaching back for something familiar, even if it wasn’t actually good for you?
The Luca moment: Tyson’s son asked for one thing, and his father gave him something better. Is there something you’ve been asking God for that might be less about the specific request and more about just wanting to be close? What would it feel like to name it that way?
Pastoral sensitivity option (for those carrying grief or heaviness): Tyson acknowledges that sometimes the silence feels real and heavy. Where are you with that today — does this feel like good news, or does the idea of “just let Him hold you” feel complicated right now?
Silence prompt (2-3 min): Sit with this question: What do I need to stop reaching for in order to be held?
