Will Egypt Ever Leave Us?

I’m listening to one of our mentors tell me, “I’m not 100% sure, but I feel like mentoring might be getting in the way of really building my art career. I love the steady money. It’s comfortable and predictable, and my family needs it. But is it holding me back? Would I be hungrier without this safety net?”

I shudder as I listen because I realize I have become Egypt.

I have spent most of my career believing in artists and encouraging them to leave their jobs, leave safety and security, pursue their passion, step into their destiny, live lives of purpose and become professional artists. I have worked hard to equip them with the skills and knowledge to build their own businesses, trust God with all their heart, and show up with the work ethic to make it happen.

But now I have built a successful organization that provides steady income for artists. For some, their contribution and shared vision for where we are going could absolutely be their calling. But for others, it could become comfortable shade that holds them captive to security and safety.

After Israel had been delivered from Egypt, Judah was threatened by Assyria, and rather than trusting God, they turned back to Egypt for protection.

“Who proceed down to Egypt without consulting Me, to take refuge in the safety of Pharaoh, and to seek shelter in the shadow of Egypt!”

(Isaiah 30:2, NASB)

I have lived a life of exodus from Egypt, not just once, but many times. Today I wonder, although I have left Egypt, will Egypt ever leave me?

My first exodus was when I was a young woman in my early twenties. I landed an art job painting for the decor market. I was paid a salary with some benefits and given my own air-conditioned studio with endless art supplies. I was tethered to the hours of 9 to 5 and subjected to a two-hour commute to Atlanta each way, which meant long, grueling days. Monday through Friday, Creative Fine Arts LLC owned my time and determined my lifestyle. I earned just enough to pay my bills, but not enough to save or get ahead. To keep the security of steady money coming, I had to comply with what my boss said and do what I was told.

I felt God calling me higher to greater things. What had once been an opportunity to learn and grow had become a trap. I felt God calling me to become more entrepreneurial, to trust Him for provision and believe He was my only true safety.

I was terrified.

What if I didn’t hear right? What if I only hoped God was calling me into the wilderness because I hated the commute and wanted to be rescued? What if this steady job was actually a blessing I was grumbling about? Honestly, I was living a dream most artists yearned for. I got to work full time painting and creating and actually make a living. Who was I to want more?

But I did.

I felt a cry of freedom calling me. I yearned to paint what I wanted to paint, set my own hours and determine my own income. So I took the step of courage and left my safe, secure job for the promised land of being my own boss.

But I didn’t go straight to the promised land.

There was a wilderness.

There were setbacks and doubts, but there was also manna. I lived a life of watching God provide week by week, often not just enough, but more than enough. I was never sure what was coming next, which meant I was continually reliant on God. He brought commissions, contacts and opportunities. I learned publishing and licensing, worked with designers and art consultants, and learned how to navigate the art world. I experienced faithful provision and did not lack.

Then I met an art dealer who looked like another incredible opportunity.

We became his top-selling artists and the demand for our work seemed endless. Slowly, over the eight years we worked with him, we allowed our other outlets of income to dry up. Without realizing it, this dealer, whom we jokingly called Daddy, became our sole source of income.

We didn’t see the danger. We didn’t even see that calling him Daddy might not be just a funny joke.

Then came 2008.

The economy crashed and Daddy could no longer buy our art. We told him we needed to go to Art Expo New York as vendors and make our own connections. He didn’t warn me of his wrath or tell me he would chase after us with his chariots and horsemen.

Daddy simply said, “Good luck.”

At Art Expo, gallery owners, frame shops, high-end furniture stores and art consultants stopped at our booth again and again, telling us how happy they were to see us and how much they wanted to work with us.

But Daddy had the real power.

One by one, he told potential clients that if they did business with us, he would never do business with them again. He used his position as one of the top dealers at Art Expo New York and his financial leverage to blacklist us from the show.

I learned about this through one brave gallery owner who told me what Daddy had said.

“You guys won’t be able to sell a thing at this show. I’m sorry. I know it is devastating.”

The final blow came when I saw Daddy walking toward my booth, smiling smugly. He stopped and looked around.

“Very nice work! You guys brought some beautiful things. I hope you have done well these first two days, because sales from the first two days constitute 90% of total sales. It would be a shame if you couldn’t even make your money back.”

He grinned, turned on his heel and slowly sauntered away.

I sunk beneath the black tablecloth covering a table of paper artwork and hid. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed silently. The ache in my throat and chest was too much to contain.

We hadn’t sold anything.

We had spent around $20,000 to be at this show and I was about to lose everything. I had no art business without Daddy. I couldn’t feed my children without him.

In that instant, I realized Daddy was my new Pharaoh.

Although I had escaped Egypt once before, I had returned without even realizing it and become even more entrenched.

If I was going to survive as an artist and ever make it to the promised land, I could never allow myself to become reliant on one person or entity again. God had to be my source of provision, my guide for direction and the only shade where I sought refuge.

I had been blindsided by my desire for safety, security and comfort.

When the Israelites remembered Egypt, they remembered the fish, cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic they ate there. Numbers 11:5.

They remembered the food, but they had forgotten the chains.

That’s what we do with security.

We remember the paycheck. The health insurance. The reliable collector. The monthly royalties. The coaching salary.

We forget what that security might be costing us.

Once again, I found myself in the wilderness of doubt and uncertainty, relying on God for every meal, every commission and every opportunity.

And in those following years of deeper trust, I lived in an atmosphere of miracles. Although I rarely had more than $500 in my bank account, we ate well, kept the lights on, and somehow crossed into the promised land without even realizing it.

What began with almost nothing eventually became Milan Art Institute. God gave the vision and then provided the people, property, resources, curriculum, opportunities and thousands of students around the world. None of it could have happened without Him.

The school and brand grew and grew, and God blessed it beyond anything I could have imagined.

But then I became Pharaoh.

Artists work for our company. Mentors coach our students. People receive paychecks from something that was built.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But now I have a responsibility I didn’t have before. I don’t want to build such comfortable shade that the people I am supposed to equip for their destiny decide to live underneath me instead.

Perhaps some coaches are supposed to coach indefinitely. Perhaps that genuinely is their calling. Others may have been given the coaching role for a season while God develops them, provides for them and prepares them for whatever comes next.

My job isn’t to shove them into the wilderness.

It’s to make sure I never convince them that my shade is safer than God’s voice.

But I am not exempt from this either.

Through the blessing of God, I have built security, safety, recurring revenue, funnels that expand our reach, programs, services and a team. God, the team and I have built a stable oak tree that provides a lot of shade for me and for many others.

Perhaps success itself has become my third Egypt.

There are opportunities in front of me right now. Some could propel us toward the next stage of the vision. Pursuing them could disrupt the safety and security of what has already been built. But those same opportunities could also be shiny objects that distract us and weaken what God has already entrusted to us.

It isn’t as simple as safe equals fear or risk equals faith.

Not every opportunity is my calling. But turning one down isn’t automatically wisdom either.

To advance the vision at this stage requires even greater dependence on God. To avoid becoming my own Pharaoh, I have to continually seek His wisdom, knowledge and vision. I have to value hearing His voice above protecting what I have built.

The question isn’t simply: Is this safe? Is this risky? Will this make money? Will this create growth?

The question is: Is this where God is?

We are called to be fruitful. The sweetest fruit often isn’t growing beside the trunk where it’s easiest to reach. It’s farther out, on thinner branches where the sunlight ripens it. Sometimes God asks us to climb toward it and trust the bending branch. Other times He tells us to stay, to prune, or to recognize that the fruit dangling in front of us isn’t ours at all.

The point isn’t how far out on the limb we’re willing to go.

The point is whether we’re abiding closely enough to recognize His voice.

Maybe the human desire for Egypt never completely disappears, because Egypt represents something fundamental we all crave:

I want to know I will be okay.

But God repeatedly invites us into something more frightening:

Know Me, and trust Me when you don’t know whether you’re going to be okay.

That’s the wilderness.

Perhaps that’s why Israel wandered for 40 years. The wilderness wasn’t merely the inconvenient geography between Egypt and Canaan.

It was the classroom.

My wilderness moments were certainly mine. They are where I learned that God is real, miraculous, generous and trustworthy. In the wilderness, God taught former slaves how to become people capable of possessing promise.

Where Israel repeatedly struggled to trust God in the wilderness, Jesus entered the wilderness, experienced hunger and temptation, and remained dependent upon and obedient to the Father.

That’s the model.

Not recklessness.

Dependence.

And now I’m sitting in a meeting with the leaders of our company considering an opportunity. One so big it could bring us closer to the final stages of the vision.

We are looking at what it could do for the company and for artists. We are studying the risks, the numbers, the steps we would need to take and what is at stake.

As I listen, I feel something strangely familiar.

I remember being a young artist in Atlanta wondering if I was crazy to leave a secure art job.

I remember Daddy telling us he could no longer buy our art.

I remember sitting beneath a black tablecloth at Art Expo, sobbing because I had allowed one man to become my security.

And now I am sitting inside something God has blessed beyond anything I could have imagined, listening to all the reasons we should protect what we have built.

Suddenly, I understand something I had never understood before.

Egypt isn’t a place.

It’s the part of me that would rather know I’m safe than know I’m following God.

Maybe Egypt never completely leaves us. Maybe there will always be some part of us that prefers the shade of what we know to the wilderness of dependence.

So perhaps the question isn’t whether I’ve finally gotten Egypt out of me.

The question is whether, when God stretches out His hand and says, “Come,” I’m still willing to leave.