There’s an incredible poster of Taylor Knox, a surfer, in front of a huge wave — over fifty feet high — at Todos Santos, Mexico. Underneath are the words: “What if your fears and dreams existed in the same place?”
“Then they came to Elim, where there were twelve springs and seventy palm trees, and they camped there near the water.” (Exodus 15:27)
After Marah’s bitterness, Elim looks like the perfect place to finally stop. And for a while, they do. Twelve springs, seventy palms, it tells us this really was a good place. But Elim was never the destination; it was provision for the next leg of the journey. We tend to camp at our Elim’s, to settle where God only meant us to be refreshed.
The enemy’s best plot against you is not bigger than God’s purpose for you. Whatever you may be going through today could be described as a desert, a trial, and it can even feel impossible. But the truth is the truth even when you have reached your very end.
Notice what happens at Elim: the supernatural provision of manna doesn’t come until after they leave. At Elim they were still living off what they’d carried out of Egypt. Only once they moved did the miracle come. Will you do it again, Lord? There is more when you move.
But moving is rarely the hard part logistically; it’s the hard part in us. Rob Parsons, in his book Let Me Tell You a Story, describes watching a camel owner offering rides to tourists in the Middle East. Among the crowd was a boy no older than five, watching wide-eyed as his older sister was lifted onto the camel’s back. He ran alongside, laughing, captivated, right up until the camel turned around and he realised it was his turn next. He bolted back behind his father, and no amount of coaxing from either his dad or the camel owner could get him near the animal. Eventually his father gave up, paid for his daughter’s ride, and led both children away. Ten metres down the street, the boy stopped, turned, and looked back at the camel one last time before walking on. That look said what he couldn’t: I desperately want to try… but I just can’t.
It’s a look Parsons says he’s seen in adults too, not just children, even his own reflection included. A look that glances at an opportunity, imagines what could be, but stays paralysed by fear.
Whatever Elim you’ve camped at, don’t mistake the resting place for the finish line. God isn’t finished with you yet.

