How Did I End Up Here? Finding God’s Purpose in Your Pain: Exodus 1

Have you ever looked around at your life and quietly asked yourself, “How in the world did I end up here?”

• Sometimes that question comes from a place of gratitude:

You’ve got a job you never thought you’d have.
You’re leading a family you once only dreamed of.
You’re part of a church community you didn’t expect to love.

• Other times, it comes from a place of confusion or pain:

A season of financial strain.
A relationship that suddenly turned cold.
Spiritual dryness or pressure at work or school here in Brooklyn.

Either way, that question is deeply human. And it’s exactly where the story of Exodus begins.
Israel finds itself in a place they never planned to settle into long-term—Egypt—living under a king who no longer remembers the goodness of Joseph. They are in bondage, under pressure, and no doubt many of them are asking, “How did we end up here?”

The best place to start with that question in your own life is the same place Exodus directs us:
Not with your feelings. 
Not with your circumstances.
 But with who God is—His character, His promises, and His purposes.

“Therefore they set taskmasters over them to afflict them with their burdens… But the more they afflicted them, the more they multiplied and grew.” 

Exodus 1 begins with a list of names—the sons of Jacob—who went into Egypt. Seventy people in total. That may feel like a throwaway detail, but it’s crucial.

Scripture repeatedly describes God as:
“The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” (Exodus 3:6, NKJV)

In the ancient world, most “gods” were gods of places:
The god of this city
The god of that mountain
The god of this river

But the true and living God reveals Himself differently.
 He’s not the God of a place.
 He’s the God of people.

He walked with Abraham out of his homeland. 
He walked with Israel through the wilderness.
He walks with you through Brooklyn traffic, through cramped apartments, through long subway rides, through your office on Wall Street or your classroom in Flatbush.
He’s relational. He travels with His people.

Exodus 1:6–7 says:
Those few verses compress over 400 years of history. Entire generations live, serve, die, and fade off the scene. Yet God’s plan is still unfolding.

This is challenging for us:
We want to see God’s promises fulfilled in our lifetime.
We want our prayers answered by Friday.
We want the ministry, the breakthrough, the revival—all now.
But God often thinks in terms of generations, not just moments.

If you’re a parent, grandparent, aunt, uncle, or even a spiritual parent to someone in our Brooklyn community, this raises an important question:
Am I only living for what God will do in my lifetime,
or am I also living to prepare the next generation to know and serve Him?

Churches die when they forget that.  Families drift when they forget that.
  God is a God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—not just Abraham.

To really understand Exodus, you have to go back to Genesis.

In Genesis 12:1–3, God comes to a man named Abram, an idol worshiper from a pagan family, and makes a covenant with him:
Later, in Genesis 15, God confirms this covenant in a powerful way. Abraham is literally asleep while God passes between the pieces of the sacrifice.

“Now when the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell upon Abram; and behold, horror and great darkness fell upon him.” (Genesis 15:12, NKJV)

This is a one-sided covenant. God is saying:

• “I will do this.”
• “I will make you a great nation.”
• “I will bless you.”
• “I will make your name great.”

Abraham isn’t negotiating. He’s unconscious.
That’s grace.

Covenant Fulfilled in Exodus 1
Look again at Exodus 1:7:
Seventy people went into Egypt.
 By Exodus 1, many scholars estimate there may be over 2 million Israelites.

God said, “I will.”  
Exodus shows He did.

This is huge for your faith:
When you enter into relationship with God, you’re trusting a covenant-keeping God.
He keeps His word—even when you’re not fully conscious of what He’s doing.

Here’s where the story turns.
Joseph had saved Egypt from famine. He preserved the entire nation. But a new Pharaoh comes along who doesn’t care about that history. All he sees is: A potential threat.

So he says:
“‘Come, let us deal shrewdly with them, lest they multiply…’” (Exodus 1:10, NKJV)

And he enslaves them. He appoints taskmasters to afflict them:
The Hebrew word used there for “bondage” is the same root as “serve.”
They are serving—just under the wrong master.

Back in Genesis 15:13–14, while Abraham is in that deep sleep, God says:

Abraham’s response? Horror. Darkness. Distress.
As a parent, that hits home. You want your kids to have it easier than you. Imagine God telling you:
“Your children are going to walk through 400 years of difficulty.”

Sometimes, following God includes seasons we would never choose.
We often think: If it’s hard, I must be out of God’s will.

But sometimes: It’s hard because you’re in God’s will.

Two Main Reasons Difficulty May Show Up
It’s God’s purpose for growth or movement.
Sometimes we’re too comfortable.
You like your job.
You like your ministry.
You like your neighborhood in Brooklyn.

God has to shake things up to move you where you would never move on your own. That’s not punishment—it’s direction.

It’s the consequence of our sin or disobedience.  
Other times, like in Jeremiah’s day, difficulty comes because God’s people refused to listen. They ignored His Sabbath commands, chased their own plans, and God allowed captivity as discipline.

In both cases, the correct response is the same:
Call upon the name of the Lord.
Ask, “Lord, how did I end up here? Show me if this is discipline, direction, or both.”
Then either repent or persevere—or sometimes, both at once.

One word dominates the book of Exodus: serve.
 Over 60 times.

God repeatedly tells Moses to go to Pharaoh with this message:
“Let My people go, that they may serve Me…” (Exodus 8:1, NKJV and elsewhere)

Notice what He does not say:

• “Let My people go so they can do whatever they want.”
• “Let My people go so they can just be comfortable in the wilderness.”

He frees them from bondage
 so they can live for Him.
That’s the theme: Saved to Serve.

Jesus uses the same kind of language in Matthew 11:
“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me… For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28–30, NKJV)

You’re still carrying a yoke. You’re still serving.
 The difference is the Master you’re serving:
Sin is a cruel taskmaster. The world is a brutal boss. Your own flesh will drive you into exhaustion. But Jesus says, “My yoke is easy. My burden is light.”
Serving God is not bondage—it’s true freedom.

Under pressure, Pharaoh escalates his cruelty:
But verse 17 says:
They feared God more than Pharaoh:

• They refused to murder.
• They protected life.
• They took a stand at great personal risk.

When Pharaoh confronts them, they give an answer:Some people get hung up on whether they lied. But the key biblical emphasis is this:
They were blessed because they feared God, not because lying is suddenly okay.
And God was just keeping His earlier promise:
The midwives chose to bless God’s people, and God blessed them.

In Brooklyn—whether you’re in healthcare, finance, education, the arts, or hospitality—you will face moments where you must choose:

• Fear of God or fear of man.
• Compromise or conviction.
• Comfort or obedience.

The fear of God will cost you something.
 But the fear of man will cost you far more.

So, how does all this connect to your commute on the Q train or your rent going up again?
1. Ask the Right First Question
When you find yourself asking, “How did I end up here?”
Let the first question be:

• “Who is God in this moment?”
• “What has He promised?”
• “What is His character?”

Open your Bible before you open your group chat.
 Let God’s character be the lens you interpret your circumstances through.

2. Recognize You’re Saved For Something
If you’re a follower of Jesus in Brooklyn:

• You’re not just here to survive.
• You’re not just here to pay rent and scroll your phone.
• You’ve been saved to serve.

That might look like:
Serving in your local church in Brooklyn.

Being a light in your workplace, refusing to gossip, cutting corners, or dehumanize others.
Loving your neighbors in your building or block, praying for them by name.
Sharing Jesus with classmates in your school or college in NYC.
You don’t have to be a pastor to serve God.
You just have to be available.

3. Let Hard Seasons Drive You to God, Not Away
If work just turned toxic…
If a relationship has gotten bitter…
If ministry has become painful…
Don’t automatically assume:
“God has abandoned me.” Or “I must bail immediately.”

Sit with Him:
“Lord, is this Your way of moving me, growing me, or correcting me?”“Am I supposed to endure this for a time, or is it time to step into something new?”

Either way:
Strengthen yourself in the Lord.
Open His Word.

Pray.
Lean into Christian community—into a local church here in Brooklyn where you can be known and fed and sent.

4. Choose the Right Fear
In a city like New York:

• The fear of missing out is real.
• The fear of being canceled is real.
• The fear of being overlooked is real.

But Scripture calls us to a different fear—the fear of God:

• The fear that leads to wisdom.
• The fear that leads to obedience.
• The fear that leads to blessing.

The Hebrew midwives show us that God honors those who honor Him, even when culture pressures them to do otherwise.

You’ve been:  Saved from sin.
Freed from the penalty and power of your past.
But you’ve also been: Saved to serve.

Freed for a purpose.  So the question isn’t, “Will I serve?”
The question is, “Whom will I serve?”
Will I keep serving my flesh, my comfort, my image?
Or will I serve the God who:
Keeps covenant, Walks with His people, And is worthy simply because He has saved me and adopted me into His family?

Let’s pray:
Father,
 We thank You that You are the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—a God of people and generations. Thank You that You keep Your promises, even when we don’t fully see the big picture.

For those of us in a hard season right now, show us why we’re here. If we need to repent, give us the courage to do it.  If we need to endure, give us strength. In all things, draw us closer to You.

Lord, we confess that we have been saved for a purpose—to know You and to serve You. Help us to stop living only for ourselves. Teach us to fear You more than we fear people, and to find joy in serving You with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength—right here in Brooklyn, in our homes, workplaces, and churches.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Not always. Sometimes He uses difficulty to move you, grow you, or correct you. The key is to seek Him, listen, and respond in faith—either by repenting or persevering.

Because He works on a generational scale and is shaping a people, not just individuals. Through that suffering, they multiplied, learned to cry out to Him, and experienced His deliverance in a way that would shape their identity forever.

It means your salvation isn’t just a ticket to heaven. It’s a call to active participation in God’s work—loving others, sharing the gospel, using your gifts in your local church and community.

Ask yourself: Do I make decisions mainly based on what others will think, or what God has clearly said? If people’s opinions consistently outweigh God’s Word in your choices, fear of man is winning.

Because the New Testament constantly builds on these books. Hebrews, Romans, and much of Jesus’ teaching assumes you know these stories. The Old Testament is the New Testament concealed; the New Testament is the Old Testament revealed.

 Engage in prayer and surround yourself with a supportive faith community to help you focus on His promises.