• Read Exodus 15

MORNING— The Tree at Marah🌳

• Focal Passage: Exodus 15:25

“Then he cried out to the Lord, and the Lord showed him a tree; and he threw it into the waters, and the waters became sweet.”

Exodus 15 opens with joy that spills over into song. The sea has closed behind Israel, the threat is gone, and freedom is no longer theoretical. It is real. Tangible. Miriam lifts her tambourine. The women dance. The people sing words they will remember for generations: “Sing to the Lord, for He is highly exalted; the horse and his rider He has hurled into the sea.”

This is what it feels like when deliverance is fresh. The danger is past. God has come through. Faith feels effortless. Praise comes easily. These are the moments we wish we could freeze—when obedience seems rewarded without delay and trust feels natural rather than costly.

But Exodus moves quickly from celebration to silence.

Three days into the wilderness, the singing stops. The landscape is unforgiving. Throats are dry. Children are thirsty. When water finally appears at Marah, hope surges—only to collapse. The water is bitter. Undrinkable. And with that discovery, something else turns bitter as well.

The people grumble. Not against Pharaoh. Not against the desert. But against Moses. Disappointment looks for someone to blame. It always does.

Moses responds differently. He does not argue. He does not defend himself. He cries out to the Lord. And the Lord shows him a tree. 🌳 Not a sermon. Not an explanation. A tree.🌳 Moses throws it into the water, and what was bitter becomes sweet.

God does not remove the desert. He transforms the experience within it.

At Marah, the Lord reveals a new name for Himself: “I am the Lord, your healer.” Not just the God who rescues dramatically, but the God who heals quietly. Not only the One who defeats enemies, but the One who tends wounded hearts.

Corrie ten Boom once met a German lawyer whose legs had been taken by the war. He sat in a wheelchair, consumed by bitterness toward God and humanity. When Corrie told him that bitterness must be surrendered, he snapped back, “What do you know about bitterness? You still have your legs.”

So she told him about betrayal. About prison. About watching family members die because of one man’s treachery. About hatred so deep she wanted her betrayer dead.

“I know what it is to hate,” she said. “And I know what it is to be healed.”

Bitterness does not disappear because circumstances improve. It is healed when it is surrendered to God.

That tree at Marah stands as a witness: God can sweeten what disappointment has poisoned.

• Reflection:  Has bitterness begun to take hold in your spirit, tempting you to forget the victories God has granted in the past?

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EVENING— The Trees at Elim 🌳

• Focal Passage: Exodus 15:27

“Then they came to Elim where there were twelve springs of water and seventy date palms 🌳, and they camped there beside the waters.”

God does not leave His people at Marah.

Soon after, Israel arrives at Elim—a place marked not by scarcity, but abundance. Twelve springs of water. Seventy palm trees. 🌳 Shade. Rest. Provision that feels almost extravagant after the dryness of the desert.

Elim is not the destination. But it is a gift.

God knows when His people need rest. He knows when they need to stop moving, to drink deeply, to let healing settle in. Elim is a reminder that the journey with God is not unbroken hardship. There are oases along the way—places where strength is restored and perspective is renewed.

Corrie ten Boom would return to Darmstadt a year after her conversation with the bitter lawyer. This time, he met her at the station, driving a specially equipped car. He laughed and told her that he had surrendered his bitterness to God. The man who once isolated himself in bitterness was now out and about serving others. The sourness that hollowed him out had been replaced with love.

Elim does not erase Marah. It follows it.

Life moves this way more often than we expect. Celebration gives way to disappointment. Disappointment can create bitterness. But God heals. Rest is given. And then the journey continues.  Just remember when you arrive at an oasis to fill your canteen.  You are going to need it.  Your journey is not yet complete.

Wherever you find yourself this night—singing, thirsty, bitter, or resting—the Lord has not changed. He still heals. He still provides. And He is still leading His people home.

• Reflection:  If you are experiencing a season of blessing in your life, how are you seeking to “fill your canteen” for the road ahead?
• Closing Prayer:  Father, I surrender any bitterness I might be harboring in my heart due to my current circumstances.  Teach me that YOU are my healer.  Help me to rest under your gracious touch.  In moments that you supply in abundance, let me share it with others and use the experience to cultivate thanksgiving in my heart.  Amen.