Dear Ams,

It’s me, your former self, writing to you from quarantine but with the benefit of hindsight. You’ve been on furlough these past sixteen weeks, and you’ve discovered a lot, but furlough is just about over. You head back to work in just one week, and I know you’re carrying the weight of worry and fear over all the changes that are taking place in the world and in your work life. So I thought I would write you from time to time and remind you of the lessons you learned and the treasures you discovered during your four-month sabbatical from life, just in case the frenzy of life tries to swallow you whole again.

The first thing I want to say to you is, “Remember!” God told his people over and over again throughout Scripture to remember, which tells me that remembering must be a vital element of life with Him. So don’t forget to remember, to build ebenezers and mark the map of where you’ve been and where you’re headed (Joshua 4, 1 Samuel 7:2–12). You’ll need those monuments one day, tangible evidence of the intangible realities of faith and falling, of departure and deliverance, of parting and pilgrimage, of reorientation and redemption. And when you lose your way, they will be there whispering, “Remember.”

So as you anticipate returning to work and the radical changes that is requiring from you right now, when you’re tempted to fear that maybe this unfamiliar landscape was a bad idea after all, remember what it felt like before. The Israelites feared their future in the desert, too, feared they’d never make it to the supposed promised land that God had promised them. Just like you, they were tempted to go back to what was familiar. But as threatening as the wilderness felt to them, and as hard as they tried to convince themselves otherwise, Egypt was no better. In fact, it was worse. Way worse! So remember your Egypt. Remember how it really was, not how your fear wants you to remember it. Remember:

Egypt was killing you.

And remember that when you came out of Egypt, certain that you had been living by faith all along, you were met by the all-encompassing provision of your God, and it blew your paltry faith-that-was-really-just-sight out of the water. Remember how Yahweh provided for you in the wilderness (Exodus 16) of worklessness, beyond anything you could have hoped for or imagined. Remember how He drew you tenderly (Hosea 2:14–23) into that emptiness where you no longer had to strive and plan. Remember how he fed you daily with His manna—financially, emotionally, and spiritually—and watered your thirsty heart with His springs of living water (John 4:14). Remember how He fed your creative soul and granted rest for your exhausted body (Psalm 127:1–2). Remember how he made the wasteland explode with life and flourish before your eyes. Remember:

He resurrected you.

You are right. The unfamiliar is frightening. But your God goes before you (Deut 31:8), Isaiah 52:11–12), preparing the way for your feet (Isiah 45:2), and He is always behind you, whether you turn to the right or to the left, whispering, “This is the way; walk in it” (Isaiah 30:21). He is drawing your tenderly forward, and He has promised you will not be disappointed (Romans 5:5 HCSB, Hebrews 10:23). So take His hand and go, and as you go:

Remember.