Break Camp
Sunday, October 11, 2026
Vanessa Urban
Deuteronomy 1:6–7 · John 10:10
If you were to walk into my office on any given day during the week, except Friday, I have that day off, but Monday through Thursday if you were to walk into my office, there’s one thing you would notice: there is always something playing. Sometimes it's music, but mostly it's a TV show or a movie playing in the background. Now, before you get too far with that thought, "Wait a minute, did she just tell us she watches TV all day!?!” let me stop you right there, and explain. I'm not actually watching anything. One hundred percent of the time, it's something I've seen dozens, maybe hundreds of times.
I do this at home, too. Cleaning the house, cooking dinner. I even watch something while doing yard work. I put my phone in my pocket, my AirPods in my ears, and just let it run. I've rewatched the same shows and movies so many times that I can quote the lines for each one, which my family loves, by the way. The X-Files, seasons one through nine? I can't tell you how many times I've rewatched it. The West Wing, same thing. Interstellar, Arrival, Dune… the list goes on and on, but you get the idea. I love it. It feels good to me. It's comforting.
I even do this at restaurants, too. At the Alehouse down the street: Zingers, hot, with ranch and a side of fries. At Jimmy Hulas I get the Wipeout. At Crisp & Green the southwest chicken salad. Why would I risk trying something I might not like when I know there's something on the menu I'm guaranteed to love?
I'm willing to bet that some of you here today, and those watching from home, do this same thing. Maybe for you it's not a TV show. Maybe it's a book you've read a dozen times, or the same vacation spot every summer. In some way, shape, or form, we all seek comfort like this. So much so that researchers have studied the “why” behind it.
Folks that work in marketing have a term for it: volitional reconsumption. That's a fancy way to describe people that choose to experience the same product or experience again. In that way, I’m every marketer's dream. Psychologists began studying something similar back in the 1960s. They called it the mere exposure effect, which simply said that the more often we're exposed to something, the more we tend to like it, just because it's familiar.
Familiar feels safe, and safe feels good.
So why does the mere exposure effect, or volitional reconsumption, work so well on us? Research has turned up a few reasons. The first: predictability lowers our mental load. When we've had a long day and we're tired, the last thing our brains want to do is try to keep up with something new. Second, there’s nostalgia. Going back and experiencing something from our childhood can substantially lift our mood. And third, we feel a sense of connection with the experiences, whether characters we know from television or experiences we’ve done time and again. They feel like old friends.
But researchers also raise a caution. When done in moderation, volitional reconsumption is healthy. For me, rewatching a beloved show is self-care. But, when done too much or too often, it can also become avoidance. A way to escape responsibilities, hard emotions, and personal growth. So, comfort isn't a bad thing, but when comfort becomes a way that we avoid what's hard, it can become a place we never want to leave. And we do this with much more than what we watch or the books we read. We do it in our relationships, our jobs, our faith, and with ourselves.
This morning I want us to look at a scripture from the book of Deuteronomy. I'm skipping ahead of the pastors’ Untitled Bible Study project today, so apologies in advance, you may hear some spoilers. But let's look at Deuteronomy 1:6–7:
The Lord our God said to us at Horeb, "You have stayed long enough at this mountain. Break camp and advance into the hill country of the Amorites; go to all the neighboring peoples in the Arabah, in the mountains, in the western foothills, in the Negev and along the coast, to the land of the Canaanites and to Lebanon, as far as the great river, the Euphrates."
"You have stayed long enough at this mountain. Break camp and advance."
When I first read that scripture, that line jumped right off the page at me. And when that happens, I have to write it down. I scribble it on some paper, or, when I'm in my office, I'll write it on my whiteboard. (Just a word of caution before you scribble this scripture somewhere on a whiteboard at your work: it can make your bosses nervous. It did mine! I had written the scripture on my whiteboard, and later, when I wasn't in, Megan came into my office, saw it, and wrote underneath: "Unless that mountain is Maitland Pres!" So be careful!)
Now, let’s look at what's happening at this point in the Bible. Deuteronomy picks up at the end of the Exodus story. Moses and the Israelites have been wandering the desert for forty years, and this book is Moses' swan song, so to speak. God has told him he won't enter the promised land with the Israelites. He knows he's not going, but he takes the time to reassure the people. He reminds them of all the ways God has been with them in the past, and that they have just a little further to go before they reach the promised land, if only they would go.
In this moment, Moses is speaking to a whole new generation of Israelites, the children of those who didn't make it through the wilderness. This is a book of reminder and preparation.
The NIV, the translation I'm using today, uses the word "advance." Many other translations say "go" or "set out." But I really like the NIV here, because "advance" has movement to it. Yes, "go" is an action word too, but "advance" sounds like a marching order. The Hebrew word is nasa (naw-SAH), and it describes the act of pulling up a tent stake and moving on. And this isn't a one-time command. This word appears 146 times, starting in Genesis and moving all the way to Zechariah. Following God has always meant packing up the tent and moving. This word is a signal. When God's people pull up their stakes, it means God is about to move them into the next chapter of His story.
I also want to note that Horeb, the mountain the Israelites are camped in front of, is another name for Mount Sinai. This wasn't a bad place. It's where God met them and gave them the covenant. It shows that even a holy, good place can become somewhere we stay for too long. Hold that thought, because we'll come back to it in a few minutes.
For the Israelites, pulling up the stakes and moving meant the reward of the promised land. For us, it looks a little different. Our promise comes from the book of John, specifically John 10:10:
"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."
The King James translation puts it this way: "I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly."
The Greek word for "abundantly" is perissos, and it means excessive, beyond what's necessary. Jesus came so we'd have a life above and beyond what's necessary. That is our promised land. If we trust God and believe that He is for us, we can go places we never imagined. But how can we live that life if we refuse to break camp and advance? God wants more for us than we can imagine, we have to be willing to pull up our tent stakes and go.
Now, I want to be careful here, because "abundant life" can get twisted pretty easily. Jesus isn't promising us a bigger house, a nicer car, or more money in our bank accounts.
Abundant life isn't about stuff. It's about a life full of purpose. It's freedom from fear. It's knowing, deep down, that you are loved and that you belong to God. It's getting to be part of what He is doing in the world. That kind of abundance can't be bought, and it can't be taken away. Let me tell you what it's looked like in my own life.
I'm sure I've mentioned in the past that I'm a student at UCF, pursuing my undergraduate degree in religious studies. Before going back I had been away from school for well over two decades. I had done a little college after graduating high school, didn't finish my AA, and that was okay. In my mind, college was a closed chapter. I was happily camped at that mountain. And while I was camped there, I heard all the usual voices giving me good reasons to stay put. I'm too old to go back to school. I'm definitely way too busy. I have a job I love. I don't really need to go back. It's probably for the best I don’t. Besides, what if I can’t do it?
But then God did that thing He does. That gentle nudge: “You can do this.” And being the stubborn child of God that I am, I dismissed it. So He ganged up on me and put people in my life who began to encourage me. And after a while, and plenty of support from those around me, I decided, "Okay, I'll do it! What could go wrong?"
So many things. That's the answer to that question. So many things.
But I packed up and started walking. And here's what I can testify to about leaving any mountain: it’s not easy. I can't tell you how many times I thought about turning around. Most of my weeks look like this: wake-up, work, home, dinner, then study and homework until it's time for bed. Then wake up and do it all again.
The summers are the hardest. My job here at the church means summer trips and Bible camps, so I normally take summers off from school. Man, oh man, when fall semester rolls back around, the temptation to not go back is real. "Well, you gave it a good run." Or, "It was so nice to read a book you weren't required to read." But God, ever the persistent one, keeps saying, "You still have a journey ahead of you." So I register again every fall.
I've been on this college journey for six years. And can I tell you something? I don't regret any of it. God has shown me so many things along the way, but the best thing He's shown me is that I can do it. I can balance work and school. I can get the grades. I can do what He's asking of me, including standing up here in front of you all and share His Word. As my dad likes to say, good Lord willing and the creek don't rise, I'll graduate in May. If you had told me six years ago that I'd be about to graduate with honors and a certificate in Interfaith Dialogue, I would have laughed and laughed and laughed. But it all started because I chose to trust and believe that God had a plan for me. It's still an unfolding journey. I imagine I won't be camped at this new mountain very long before God calls me on to the next leg. But I have faith that I'm headed to the right place.
So what's your mountain?
Where are you camped that you should be moving on from? Is it a relationship you've stopped investing in, or a relationship you need to leave behind?
Maybe it's a job, a very comfortable job you know you can do, one that doesn't challenge you anymore. Maybe you've camped out at the mountain of grief, because moving on means letting go, and that's just too painful to even think about. But moving on from grief doesn't mean forgetting. It means letting God carry you forward, with the ones you love still held close in your heart. Maybe it's a version of yourself you don't recognize anymore, but you're too afraid to explore what a new you might look like. Or maybe you're camped at a mountain in your faith, one so familiar that you can recite the lines without really paying attention to what they actually mean.
Name it. Just to yourself, right now. What's your mountain?
It's not just individuals that can get stuck as well. Churches can camp, too. Remember Horeb? It was a holy, good place, and even a holy, good place can become somewhere we stay too long. I've watched this congregation show up for this community and for the world again and again. I've seen it in the way you step up for hungry children in our local schools. I've seen it in the way you have shown up to protest the mistreatment of the marginalized in our community. You are a light in this world, and I'm so proud to be part of this church.
But here's the thing about complacency. It rarely ever looks like laziness. Most of the time, it looks like tiredness. The everyday onslaught of hard news wears us down, and we start to hear the voices that say, "I can't make a difference. What's the point of even trying?" Or, maybe the trickier one for a church like ours: "We're already doing enough."
Remember the first half of John 10:10? "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy." We usually picture that thief doing something dramatic. But sometimes the thief doesn't steal something we immediately notice. Sometimes it just convinces us to stay put. It whispers that it's fine right here, that we've done our part, that the next step can wait. And little by little, it steals the abundant life Jesus came to give us.
Because here's the truth: God never promised us a comfortable life. He promised us an abundant one. And those aren't the same thing. Look through Scripture. Abraham was told to leave everything he knew. Moses was sent back to Egypt. The disciples dropped their nets and walked away from the only work they'd ever known. Not one of them was called to comfort. They were called to follow.
If you're feeling comfortable right now, in your faith, in your life, even in your church, I don't want you to feel guilty about it. Comfort isn't a sin. Remember, I'm the Zingers-and-fries girl! But I do want you to treat that comfort as a question. When I start feeling really comfortable, maybe that's my cue to ask God, "Where are You challenging me? In what way do I need to advance?" Because God is always up to something new, and He's inviting us into it.
Going back to our story, Moses, remember, was speaking to a new generation. He had hope that they would finally step into the life God was calling them to. What if we are that new generation?
Every week, we pray together: "Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." It's something we ask of God. But we are His hands and feet in this world, and with God's help, we are called to be part of making that prayer come true. This world continues to cry out for justice and love. Families grieving young Black men whose deaths go unanswered. Women that are waiting to be believed. Immigrant families afraid of being torn apart. Whole peoples facing destruction. We've already shown that we can be a beacon. So the question isn't whether we care. The questions is where God is calling us to go next. Maybe it's serving with an organization that helps immigrants with their legal status. Maybe it's volunteering at the polls. Maybe it's joining our mission and advocacy group. Or maybe it's one phone call or one conversation this week that starts the journey. Remember, I didn't start with a diploma. I started with a first step.
Moving beyond any mountain won't be easy. But we have to trust that God has a plan and that He will make a way. I know He will, because we have a whole book right here that tells us He's done it before, and He'll do it again.
So I'll leave you with this.
If you're comfortable, that's okay. Enjoy the view. But don't unpack.
It's time to pull up the stakes.
We have stayed long enough at this mountain.
It's time to break camp and advance.
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