TD Jakes - Emancipated: In the World But Not of It
The whole purpose of The Saga of Exodus is built around the birth of the Old Testament Church. Birth and death are always synonymous; anytime something is born, something must die. It has to die in its original form so that it may be reborn in another form. Thus, the whole notion of Exodus is centered around the Old Testament Ecclesia, the called-out Church. They were called out; Moses’s name means «drawn out.» Life is a perpetual state of evolution, of births and deaths, of being reborn and redeveloped. In one person’s life, there are at least ten versions of you: you are not the seven-year-old you once were; your idealistic perceptions have all been altered. You’re not the twenty-year-old you were; your optimistic view of how you were going to achieve this, that, or the other has changed. Every year, every situation, every circumstance, every birth, and every death grants you another little grain of wisdom that becomes a building block, forming the framework and substratum of who you are.
We see God inviting His estranged children to be emancipated—not only to relieve the oppression but also to meet them in the wilderness to worship Him. I want you to understand that they had not had a conversation with God for 400 years. They are the people of God; they are born to be with God, but they have not had a real relationship with Him for 400 years, in part because of their association and, in some ways, their assimilation with Egypt. Their association and assimilation with Egypt started out as a blessing and ended up as a curse. It started out as a blessing because there was a famine back in Israel, and Jacob moved toward his family, where Joseph was already in Egypt, so they might get grain to withstand the famine. Everything that starts out as a blessing doesn’t necessarily end up as a blessing.
For the first thirty years or so, it was indeed a blessing—a wonderful thing. But when the Pharaoh died who did not know Joseph or regard his God, from that point they became enslaved and entered into 400 years of slavery. Watch this closely: not only did God know it; He arranged it. God prophesied to Abram that this would happen. He said, «Your seed is going to sojourn in Egypt for 400 years, and afterward they will come out with great substance.» There is an expiration date on trouble; if there’s a date you go in, there’s a date you come out. Are you hearing what I’m saying? They were not there because they were subservient, less qualified, less capable, or less brilliant than the Egyptians. They were there by divine prophecy, whereby God incubated Abram’s seed from a family into a nation. In order to cultivate the greatness within them, He applied pressure, but they were no less than the Egyptians; they were forced to serve them for 400 years.
Now, psychologists teach that when someone is abducted, they tend to fall in love with their abductor. I don’t fully understand it, but somewhere along the way, they develop a love-hate relationship with the abuser. This may also apply to domestic violence: a love-hate relationship with abuse. Moses has come to emancipate them from 400 years of being contorted into whatever Egypt desired. Anytime you contort who you are to fit what others want, there comes a point where you become unfamiliar with your true self. Some of you know what I’m talking about; you’ve shifted everything about yourself to align with what someone demanded of you, and then sometimes they left, they changed, or they died. You find yourself standing there, trying to figure out, «Who am I outside of what you needed me to be?»
These are a people who have lost their sense of real identity. They have no understanding of their language; their cuisine has disappeared. Their uniqueness is gone, and their religion has been abandoned. They have assimilated into their environment for survival; survival sometimes necessitates adapting to situations you didn’t prefer, as it is necessary to live. Our Creator endows us with the ability to adapt—no matter what climate we are in, we physically adapt; no matter what situation we face, we emotionally adapt; no matter what circumstances we engage with, we adapt to that environment for survival’s sake. We have a strong survival instinct; you wouldn’t be sitting here today if you didn’t have one. Your heart has been broken, your life altered, and you’ve encountered disappointment. You didn’t get everything you wanted; things didn’t turn out the way you expected. But once you were in the situation, you adapted, found a way to cope, and survived. You ought to give yourself a hand clap for not going backward—even if you’re not moving forward.
Their poverty exceeds income; it is an all-encompassing blight that has been comprehensively damaging and diversely documented. They’ve lost everything. They have left Egypt to rediscover themselves by reconnecting with God. Watch this closely: they have left Egypt to rediscover themselves by reconnecting with God. You will never find yourself—your identity, your self-esteem—without Him. This is why they found themselves in the wilderness craving the leeks and onions of Egypt; their taste buds had become like those of the Egyptians. This is why they built an image of God that resembled the Egyptian gods, for their concept of God had been influenced by Egypt.
This is why you come to church and start talking about a «higher power,» because you are adopting the language of the people you interact with, saying things like «the man upstairs.» «I’m not a Christian; I’m spiritual.» This type of language indicates that you have lost the divine language God gave you and adapted to the language of those around you, partly due to your need to fit in. You need to be connected, to feel fresh, or to be accepted. Your need for acceptance by others—be they employers, CEOs, entrepreneurs, other men, or women—has forced you to shape your personality into something they applaud. They don’t applaud you for being who you are; they applaud you for contorting into an image that reflects the times we live in.
They will tell you, «Oh, you’re out of style; that’s outdated, that’s old school.» In other words, you have to contort back because the style has changed. I’m sick of style; I do me. The other day, I wore something and was told it was out of style. No, it’s not out of style—because it’s in my closet! I’m broke trying to keep up with what’s «in style.» That’s why they change the styles every week—so you’ll have to buy again to fit in again—rather than invest your money wisely. You are breaking yourself trying to keep up with something dictated from Paris about which you know nothing, and you’re never going to be on a runway! If you don’t wake up and recognize this, you may end up homeless in a shelter.
Too much of our energy is spent trying to reconcile with people. We want to be in—trending with others, fitting in with the latest fads, developing the right language to gain applause. We’re ashamed to voice the very things we used to be proud of, such as «I love my wife,» «I care about my family,» and «I take care of my husband.» I dare you to make a post about it right now and watch how many people attack you! It’s not that they are wrong for being who they are; it’s that they may think something is wrong with you if your values don’t align with theirs. The fight continues: a fight with men, a fight with women, a fight across generations, denominations, and ethnicities. We are at war, and I’m tired. Is anyone else tired? Tired of twisting, turning, and reshaping yourself into all kinds of configurations? By the time you have it all worked out, the style has changed again!
«We don’t do that here; we don’t do that over there.» You’ve been told what to do, how to dress, how to speak, until you become afraid to be yourself, and your need to fit in supersedes your need to be who you are. Now, you don’t know who you are. You need to reboot and return to the Manufacturer, to God, and ask, «Who did you create me to be? What did you have in mind for my life? How did you intend for me to function?» Because I am so tired. I have been what my mama said I should be, what my daddy said, what my friends wanted, what my gang expected. I’ve been what my denomination said, what the board dictated, and what everyone advised to promote me to the next level.
Now, I just don’t even know who I am. I speak a little Hebrew, I speak a lot of Egyptian; I’ve retained a little bit of my Hebrew heritage, but I still carry a lot of the Egyptians within me. Yet, here comes this person trying to move me away from what I have adapted to. Even though I prayed for a deliverer, when the answer finally came, I rejected what I had asked for. Come on! I want you to see what I’m saying: I asked God to deliver me from this bondage, and when He sends a deliverer, I fight Him tooth and nail, asking, «Are there no graves in Egypt?» We just left Egypt! If you wanted to stay there, you could have! But you have one foot in Egypt and one foot on the promises of God. The moment you run into trouble, you revert back to what is familiar, even if it’s ineffective, and you’re asking, «Are there no graves in Egypt?» By the way, what difference does it make where you die?