It was the last straw. The final provocation. The absolute end of his previously enduring patience. He was done. He’d heard more whining and groaning, complaining and moaning, whinging and quarreling than any man should have to endure in the minute earthly span God gave him. Even his own boys hadn’t raised such an unholy ruckus. None of the children in the group had. The adults had pushed him to the brink of insanity. Full-grown men. Forgetting the miraculous deliverance from Egypt and overlooking the provisions along the journey, they went about fussing over what they’d left behind. Grain. Figs. Pomegranates. Grapes. Leeks and garlic. Melons and fish. Things they’d still have if they’d never left Egypt.
Like a repetitive children’s traveling song with the tendency to push parents to the lip of the ledge, the people’s complaints came ad nauseam every time things got uncomfortable. The food was bad. There was no meat. The water wasn’t plentiful. The terrain was rough. Moses had heard it all a hundred times. The lyrics never changed. Complaining seemed to be the balm for their frustrated discontent. Deeply unhappy, the people cast about for somewhere to place the blame. Unfortunately, they found it. In Moses.
The fault for their current unpleasant circumstances surely lay with Moses. If he hadn’t shown up with this grand plan for an exodus, they’d never have left Egypt. They’d be working night and day, but at least they’d still be eating well. They would never have crossed the Red Sea. Wouldn’t be schlepping through the wilderness. Would have turned back or chosen an easier way long ago. Perhaps they’d have joined a town through which they passed. Maybe they’d have set up their own city near an uninhabited spring. Perhaps they’d have made a deal with Pharaoh to live in the suburbs of Egypt. No matter how they looked at it, the unavoidable truth was glaringly apparent. The only reason they were in this forsaken place was because Moses had come and taken them there. Hunkered down in front of their hastily erected tents, they commiserated over all their grievances, discussed the current water situation, and came to a consensus. This, too, was Moses’ fault. If only they had a more competent leader.
Well. That would be fine with him. Whoever wanted to step forward and take his spot was welcome to it. They could have it. For free. Moses was just as tired of this whiny bunch of overgrown children as they were of him. Seriously. If he had taken time to stop and record every complaint since they left Egypt, they’d all have died in the wilderness. It was as if they couldn’t hear themselves. Or maybe they didn’t want to listen, either. They didn’t want to hear the whiny, teenage-sounding refuse spilling from their mouths every time their wishes didn’t appear like magic. They didn’t hear the ungrateful, insensitive, ignoble words they spewed when things were less than perfect. Worst of all, they either couldn’t hear or wouldn’t acknowledge that the complaints falling from their lips weren’t about Moses at all. They were about God.
It didn’t feel like it. Not to him. Every single barb that slid past their angry lips shot like a bullet into Moses’ soul. He’d invested his entire self in the endeavor to save these people. Set his own plans and dreams aside. Left his wife and sons to live with his father-in-law while he led God’s people out of bondage. Looked in horror at the golden calf, a physical depiction of the obvious inability of these grown humans to stay away from idols. He’d listened to hours of accusations against himself and Aaron. Found himself face down before the Lord time and again as the frustrations and complaints piled up like overwhelming obstacles. More times than not, he’d stayed on his knees long enough to realign his vision and remind himself that these were God’s people. His children. Everything about them belonged to God. Both the problems they faced and the ones they caused. They all belonged to God. Moses just needed to remember it.
Unfortunately, he didn’t. After one spectacularly bad rendition of the blame game, Moses fell heavily before the Lord, weighed down with months of pent-up frustration and anger burning a hole in his soul. He was at his wit’s end. He had no idea how to help them. Wasn’t even sure if he could. Or if they really wanted him to. He felt unappreciated, undervalued, unwanted. The people resented him. He was just a means to an end. Need water? Rail at Moses. Want meat? Nag Moses. Tired of hiking through the wilderness? Berate Moses. He was exhausted, body, mind, and spirit. He’d drained himself on behalf of the people. Literally. And even though God commanded him to speak to the rock so water would flow, Moses’ long burning irritation over insult upon injury bubbled up and caused him to disobey. Lambasting the people with his wrath at their ignominious, ungrateful, rebellious selves, Moses turned and vigorously struck the rock. And water flowed for the people.
Moses should have felt relief. Maybe he did. Briefly. Until the satisfaction of flowing water and the reprieve from complaints was overshadowed by the scathing rebuke from God. He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have struck the rock. He should have left his angst with the people at the entrance to the tent of meeting where God had appeared with direction for their current circumstance. He shouldn’t have hung onto his frustration, irritation, and anger, or allowed it to alter how he responded to God. He should have remembered. They are God’s children. Their problems and needs, complaints and grumblings, issues and circumstances were all God’s problems. Moses wasn’t responsible for keeping the people happy. That was God’s job. Moses had only to obey God and honor Him by exhibiting trust in His power to meet their needs. He’d been doing a great job. Until now. Until he allowed himself to get distracted by the feelings their words and actions evoked. Until he allowed himself to lose the focus of Heaven. (Exodus 14:11-18, 15:22-25; 16:2-20 & 27-30, 17:1-7; 32:1-25; 18:2-6; Numbers 11:1-20; 20:1-13)
From the comfort of our modern living accommodations, we snuggle into our easy chairs to sip our coffee, read the account of Moses’ disobedience, and silently judge him. We shake our heads and wonder what he could possibly have been thinking to get so upset about a matter God clearly had well in hand. Aren’t hindsight and information wonderful things? They make us able to comprehend every nuance of another person’s situation and judge the actions they took with much less knowledge than we have. I mean, look at Moses.
His own adventure into the promised land was unceremoniously cut short because he couldn’t keep his anger in check. So busy was he with trying to meet, or get God to meet, the desires of the people, that he forgot their problems weren’t his to solve. Their verbal abuse wasn’t his to change. Their constant complaining wasn’t his to stop. Their bent toward disobedience wasn’t his to heal. No. Those problems were God’s. It was God’s job to deal with the people. And He did. The only job Moses had was to obey God. But he didn’t. Why? Because he’d carried the insults, indignities, and injustices in the depths of his soul for so long they weighed him down. Bitterness set in. It grew and festered until he couldn’t hold it back any longer. In a fit of anger built up over time, Moses whacked when words would do. It cost him. He’d never walk the lush hills of the Promised Land. It was a heartbreaking price to pay for failure to remember that all problems are God’s problems. (Numbers 20:1-13)
In a world of technology where we are constantly bombarded by news of issues and problems in societies, countries, and governments, I urge you to remember those are God’s problems. When friends and family, neighbors, and fellow parishioners use you for a wailing wall, a commiseration station, or a verbal whipping boy, I beg you to remember those are God’s problems. When the previous incidents break your heart and threaten to overwhelm you with fear and anxiety, sadness, despair, or self-recrimination, I encourage you to bring it all to God. Don’t hold onto the feelings of irritation and anger these things create. They will do you no good. They will clutter up your soul, growing and overtaking every available space in your heart. But they won’t stay there. They will come out. They will cause you to sin. A word said in anger. An act of disobedience. A deliberate turning from God. A slow but steady drifting from your spiritual moorings. Regardless of how that bitterness exhibits, you’ll regret it. It won’t be worth it. Not even a little bit. (Ephesians 4:26-27; Hebrews 12:15; Psalm 62:8; Deuteronomy 10:14-17)
So bring it all to Him. Every single problem. Leave it there. Stop trying to fix every situation. Quit attempting to mitigate every complaint. Stop acting like the world rests on your shoulders. It doesn’t. It’s all God’s. The good. The bad. The ugly. It’s all God’s. It is all under His sovereign authority. No amount of working or worrying on your part will change what God has already determined, and He’s already got it well in hand. So. Don’t sacrifice your peace by allowing the things you can’t change to cause upset and anger and fear. Don’t surrender your soul to the detriment of bitterness. Don’t stop praying. For yourself. For your loved ones. For the world. Take your burdens and concerns to God. Leave. Them. There. Rest your impotence in His potency. Remembering, it’s all God’s! (Ezekiel 18:4; Psalm 55:22; Matthew 11:28; Matthew 6:25-27,34; II Corinthians 10:4-5; Isaiah 45:7-9; Job 42:2)