Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

The reptiles were everywhere. Hiding under rocks. Lurking behind tent flaps. Slithering from under bushes. Striking out at the unaware, unsuspecting, unprepared passersby. Their prey was woefully unequipped for the attacks. Fully distracted by their most recent litany of irritations and complaints, the Israelites were so busy bemoaning the lack of their desired food and the scarcity of drinkable water they didn’t even notice the uptick in reptiles sunning themselves on trailside rocks, slithering unhurried down the road, or coiled in the crooks of tree branches, secretly watching the world around them. Snakes weren’t an oddity. They weren’t endangered. Mostly they were too afraid of people to stick around. No one paid them any heed. Until they started biting. Ankles of walkers. Arms of wood gatherers. Young. Old. Healthy. Ailing. The serpents didn’t discriminate. They would bite anyone. Badly. Venomous kisses of death. There were no exceptions.

People were dying. Men. Women. Children. Those who had lived a lifetime. Those who had a lifetime yet to live. Losses were piling up faster than graves could be dug. Nothing they tried helped. Their normal poultices didn’t work. Their healing salves didn’t help. Their herbal remedies didn’t relieve the pain or save their lives. The bites would result in death. They knew it.  They were helpless to stop it. Their very existence was at the mercy of serpents. Undiscriminating, venom-releasing, life-draining snakes. It was more than they could take. 

The fear was suffocating. The death toll was rising. The constant vigil to preserve life was both physically and emotionally draining. The knowledge they had likely brought this on themselves banged away inside their brains. If only they hadn’t whined. If only they hadn’t complained. If only they hadn’t loved the food and comforts of the world more than they loved God. Yes. It was their fault this disaster had befallen them. And it was their responsibility to do something about it. They had to own it. Own responsibility for their actions and inactions. Own their sin. They needed to humble themselves. Step back their words. Retract their complaints. They needed to repent. Surely through repentance they could appeal to the merciful God who could eliminate the havoc-wreaking, life-draining serpents. 

Approaching Moses, their humility firmly in place, the people admitted their sin. They had audaciously complained about God’s provision and protection. They had ridiculed Moses’ leadership skills. They had unendingly whined about food and water even when they weren’t starving or dehydrated. They fussed because they weren’t getting the delicacies their sinful hearts desired. The wrong was completely theirs. They knew it then. They knew it now. Then they didn’t care. Now they did. Now they needed deliverance from evil. Now they needed protection from serpents. Now they needed a cure for certain death. So, with heads bowed over clasped hands, they came to Moses and asked him to pray. Specifically. Not for forgiveness of the sins they acknowledge committing. Not for an attitude adjustment. Not for heart holiness. Not for spiritual renewal, revision or revival. No. The people had only one request. Ask God to eradicate the snakes. 

Their request reeks of entitlement. They didn’t bother to truly repent or even apologize for their egregious behavior. They weren’t interested in changing. No one asked what they could do to alter the trajectory of their circumstances. They weren’t considering overhauling their souls. They weren’t looking for renewed hearts, reinvigorated dedication to God, greater faith, deeper trust, or hope that would stand firm in the face of impossibilities. They weren’t looking for spiritual healing. They were asking for a skin-deep answer to a soul-deep disease. They didn’t want to be better people. They were happy with the sinfulness of their filthy hearts. All they wanted was for God to remove the snakes. Take away their immediate pain. Fix their current problem. And they were offering nothing in return. Not one thing. It comes as no surprise that God declined. 

God didn’t choose to remove the snakes from among the people. He didn’t just sweep away their problem. He didn’t fix it so they could go on about their selfish ways. No. God left the snakes slithering among them. Extremely venomous. Ridiculously vicious. No medical cure in sight. But there was an offer of hope. A way to escape the death sentence of the bite. Moses, instructed by God, created a snake of bronze, attached it to a pole, and stood it among the people. The snakes would still live among them. The people would still be bitten. The venom would continue to be life-threatening. Except now there was a way of escape. Now there was a cure. Now the serpent-bitten human could make their way to the pole, look up at the bronze snake, and live. The sight alone would save their life. Physically. And they were content with that. (Numbers 21:4-9)

They shouldn’t have been. It was far too short-sighted. It would save their physical lives, but would do nothing for their souls. It fixed their present, but didn’t salvage their future. They could sit and stare at that snake all day, but it wouldn’t change their hearts. It wouldn’t place in them a hunger and thirst for righteousness. It would make them choose permanent holiness over their own fleeting happiness. It wouldn’t make them live with eternity ever in their sights. Even if they made an effort to change, and so often they did, it would be only a short time before they would go back to following the evil desires of their own hearts. They would run after idols. Take forbidden wives. Seek earthly pleasures. Abandon the God who had brought them out of bondage and provided lifesaving food and water from impossible places. In truth, nothing would change. That snake on a stick might preserve their lives, but it couldn’t, wouldn’t, save them from the sin eroding their souls. It solved their current problem, but left their future destiny untouched. Why? Because they hadn’t asked for eternal salvation from sin, they’d only asked for earthly escape from the snakes. (Numbers 11:4-34, 20:1-11, 25:1-10; Exodus 12:31-40; Matthew 5:6)

Such is the unending, unchanging story of the human heart. My heart. Your heart. When you should be much more concerned about your soul than your social life, the opposite is often true. In a constant state of comparison with the neighbors, perhaps you find yourself angry with God for asking you to rely on Him instead of a six-figure income. Your heart fills with greed, envy, jealousy and covetousness. You whine and complain to all who will listen. You skip prayer time. You shorten Bible reading. You allow your heart to be overcome with thoughts and feelings that spew out your mouth. Then something real happens. Snakes overtake your life. Illness strikes. Layoffs hit. The car breaks down. The kid’s need shoes. The dog needs surgery.  A partner walks out. And you realize you need help. Real help. You need a miracle worker. 

Racing to your little-used prayer closet, you hit your knees and, with barely a passing acknowledgment of how far off course your soul has strayed, your entitled self lays a litany of requests before God. Just like the Israelites, you ask for your earthly discomforts to be fixed while ignoring the disastrous mess in your soul. You get caught up in the present and discount your future. You ask only for the temporal things you want, not the eternal things your soul needs. You ask for a snake on a stick, rather than the Savior from the cross. 

You need the Savior. More than anything. More than financial security. More than perfect health. More than a big house, a beautiful family, a picture-perfect life. More than all the things society says you need. More than the stash of goods your fear dictates you have. You need a relationship with Jesus. You need His peace that stymies the most brilliant of minds. You need His joy that transcends even the darkest circumstances. You need His love that never fails, never gives up, never leaves, never ends. You need His grace for the times you fail. You need His strength to shore up your weakness. You need His limitless power in the face of your impotence. More than you need anything in this world, you need Someone out of it. Yes, friend, you need Jesus more. (Philippians 4:7; Nehemiah 8:10; Romans 8:38-39; II Corinthians 12:9-10; Ephesians 2:8-9; I Chronicles 29:11)

 There are a thousand things that call us to prayer every day. Frantic prayer. Desperate prayer. Intercessory prayer. Constant prayer. Good things. Normal things. Things that require the miraculous. I’m not here to tell you not to bring those things to God. On the contrary, please bring them. Boldly. But. While you are busy bringing your cares and concerns to Him, bring yourself along too. Confess your sins and shortcomings. Examine the thoughts and motives of your heart. Ask Jesus to be your Savior. For today. For tomorrow. For eternity. And ask yourself this question. If you could ask God for anything and know your request would be granted, would you ask for saving from the discomforts of life or would you simply ask for the Savior? (Hebrews 4:16; I John 1:9; II Corinthians 13:5-7; Romans 10:13)