Egypt, The Bedside, and The Blood: Finding the Cure in the Dark
I’ve been away from this space for a little while, longer than I intended. Losing my grandmother recently put me in a season of my own 'Darkness,' and if I’m honest, it made the Bible feel heavy and also more “alive.” We just finished talking about the Plagues—that massive intervention God used to pull Israel out of Egypt. But before we go back to see how Moses actually got started, we have to look at where this whole story was actually heading.
One of the plagues was darkness, a darkness that could be felt. I have gone through more deaths than I have really wanted, and logically they say “practice makes perfect.” However, I am still, and I don’t think anyone would ever be perfect in grieving. I might very well be the worst at it, especially in grieving family. I get angry, I can’t cry, and at times don’t feel. I am an insanely emotional person, the girl who cries during every Disney movie no matter how many times I see them. I cry when I am overwhelmed in the med room, cry at how cute a puppy is, or whatever else. However, in very serious matters with myself and family, I don’t; it’s as if I can’t. I know without a doubt a very valuable lesson I have to learn is being still.
I see now that God did not just turn off the lights in Egypt to be mean; He did it to silence the world so the people could only hear Him. After a death in the family, the idea of Jesus hits differently. It is the reality that death is a real enemy, and the only way to beat sin/death is a perfect man.
I cry at the small stuff because it’s a "safe" way to let some steam out of the pressure cooker, so to speak. But when my grandma passed, the "pressure" was so high that my brain flipped the emergency breaker. In the plagues, the 9th plague of darkness God did was because Egypt was too loud, too busy, too chaotic. He turned out the lights so all they could do was be still and listen. When I feel these feelings of “can’t feel,” it might just be God giving me a quiet room. He is silencing the world so I can eventually hear Him again.
The Science of Emotional Shunting
When we were kids, we learned about the “Passover” as a story about lambs’ blood and doorposts. When I have stood at a bedside and seen death face-to-face. It is not a story anymore. In the hospital, we do everything we can to hold death back—we use machines, we push meds, we monitor every heartbeat. But at the end of the day, we’re just humans fighting a losing battle that eventually takes us all. Standing there at my grandma’s (or patient’s) bedside, I realized that the Passover wasn't just some ancient ritual; it was God showing us the only way to beat a monster that medicine can't touch. In Egypt, they needed the blood of a lamb because death was literally at the door, and they needed a substitute to take the hit for them. Today, Jesus hits differently because I see Him as the ultimate "Donor." He’s the only one with the "blood type" that actually cures the disease of death. He didn’t just come to give us a nice story; He came to stand at our bedside, take our place, and walk us out of the darkness for good.
When I’m watching a movie, my brain knows I’m not actually in danger. I’m sitting on my couch; I’m safe. Because the stakes are low, my brain allows a "Controlled Release.” Think of it like a Pressure Relief Valve on a boiler. It lets off a little steam so the whole thing doesn't explode. I cry at the puppy or the cartoon because it’s a way for my body to process "generic" sadness without it being "personal" sadness. When it’s my loved one, the stakes aren't low anymore. They are as high as they get!
In medicine, when a patient’s blood pressure drops too low, the body pulls all the blood away from the fingers and toes to keep the heart and brain alive. This is called Shunting. Your brain does the same thing with emotions during a major loss. I’ve realized that our brains do the exact same thing with our emotions during a major loss. It "shunts" our feelings. Your mind realizes that if you felt the full, crushing weight of that grief all at once, you might literally break down and stop functioning. So, it flips the emergency breaker. You enter this state of hyper-arousal where you’re so "on guard" that you actually feel... nothing. If you're there right now, please hear me: you aren't cold-hearted. You’re just overloaded.
The Safety of the Quiet Room
This is where the 9th Plague of Egypt gets so real. The Bible says it was a darkness that could be felt. Imagine being an Egyptian. Your whole life is noise, construction, and worshiping the sun. Suddenly, it’s pitch black. You can’t see your hand in front of your face. You are forced to stop moving. You are forced to just... be. When you’re grieving and you feel that "numbness," it’s like God has put you in a Sensory Deprivation. It shuts out the world’s expectations, the constant "How are you doing?" texts, and the chaos of funeral planning, the list goes on … That numbness is a shield; it keeps you from having to look at the entire mountain of pain all at once. God isn't being mean by letting you feel numb. He’s protecting you. He’s silencing the "Egypt" of your busy life so that when the lights finally start to flicker back on, the only thing you’ve been focused on is the fact that He was sitting in the dark with you the whole time.
Waiting for the Light to Flicker Back On
Think about it: if I had a patient in shock, I wouldn't tell them to get up and run a marathon. I’d keep them warm, keep them still, and wait for their vitals to stabilize. If you’re in that "darkness you can feel" right now, your only job is to be still. The tears will come back when the "breaker" reset is finished. Until then, just know that being numb is just your body’s way of keeping your heart beating.
Next Time:
After 40 years of quiet in the desert, Moses was probably pretty used to his "quiet room." He had settled into a life where he didn't have to face his past in Egypt. But then, God shows up in a burning bush and gives him an assignment that flips his world upside down!