They were doing it again. Same tune. Same lyrics. Same song. He’d heard it more times than he cared to remember. It seemed to be their theme song. Easily memorized. Frequently sung. The chorus immediately lifted at the first indication of oncoming unpleasantness, the initial sign of discomfort, the very second they didn’t get their way. Water difficult to find. Food not to their liking. Journey longer than they expected. Foes more formidable than desired. At the first sign of possible hardship ahead, the people broke into the same song and dance. Doubt. Despair. Distress. Doom.
It was wearing on Moses’ nerves. Not for the first time. Their angry, entitled, manipulative words were always aimed at him. As if he hadn’t been simply minding his own business, tending the flock, when God called to him from a burning bush. As if it had been his idea to storm into Egypt and demand Pharaoh let the people go. As if he’d personally chosen to map their journey from bondage to promise. As if he’d personally pledged a peaceful respite in a land flowing with milk and honey. Nope. That hadn’t been him. Wasn’t even his idea. He’d actually tried to get out of it. Offered up excuses. Posed possible obstacles. Flat out asked to be excused from service. No amount of wheedling or cajoling changed God’s mind. Moses was the one. Not the planner. The leader. (Exodus 3-4)
So here he was. Trekking through the wilderness. Listening to the murmuring, complaining, groaning and wailing. Again. They craved the delicious foods in Egypt. They longed for the predictability of the past. They wondered if it would just be better to concede defeat, turn back, and see if the Egyptians would allow their return as slaves. In the middle of hardship, when faith in God was most necessary, they chose to doubt. Failed to remember the miraculous rescue. Chose to forget the water flowing from the rock. Allowed the lapse of time, the lack of amenities, the scarcity of necessities to make them question the promise of God. (Exodus 3:7-8, 16-17; 14; 17:1-7; Numbers 11)
They were currently occupying that space. The place where their impatience with the process and anxiety over looming enemies overshadowed their faith with doubt. They had lost confidence in Moses’ leadership. Lost faith in the promise of God. Lost hope that what God had promised He would absolutely perform. They wanted to go back. Could see no other option. Death in Egypt or death in the wilderness. It was all still death. Just death. Not horrendous death. Not barbaric torture. Not the abandoning of their wives and children to be absconded with by their enemies. And that was their foremost concern at this moment. They would die by the sword and their wives and little ones would be used, abused and left to die by the men who defeated them.
Earlier that day, Joshua and Caleb had re-entered the camp with their group of explorers after taking a peek at Canaan. They had been gone for 40 days. If one judged by the enormous cluster of grapes hanging from a pole between two men, the delicious pomegranates and luscious figs, the land was everything God had promised. More than they had ever imagined. Better than their most extravagant dreams. Food in abundance. Beautiful farmland. Gorgeous fields for grazing. Plenty of water. It would be a wonderful place to put down roots and raise a family. Build a permanent temple. Create a kingdom of Israelites. It would be the perfect place. If it wasn’t inhabited by enormous, powerful, terrifying giants.
If they listened to Joshua and Caleb, it was a winnable battle. Yes, the inhabitants were huge. Yes, their strength was formidable. Yes, the cities were large and fortified. But. God was on their side. He had never once failed them. They could look back over their journey and see His hand of protection and provision over and over again. There was no reason to believe that had changed now. No reason not to march up and take possession of the land He promised to provide. God was not a liar. He wasn’t prone to changing His mind. He would fulfill His promise. If they just kept the faith, didn’t doubt, and followed Him. (Numbers 13:1-30; 14:6-9; 23:19)
The rest of the men felt differently. Much differently. Absorbed in contemplation the entire journey back to camp, doubt had overtaken them. Intimidated by the sheer size of their foes, they had spent the time building a case against invading the land. Their tales of giants with unbeatable strength terrified the hearers. Their verbal vomit depicting possible inflicted horrors brought gut-wrenching panic and fear. The people weren’t having it. Wanted no part of it. Not on their watch. They weren’t going to allow this to happen if they could stop it. Promised land or not, they weren’t interested in risking their lives for it. They were done. Ready to demote Moses. Ready to choose a new leader. Ready to pack their bags and head back to Egypt. Again. Because, wouldn’t it be better to go back and face the music than be ripped apart by barbarians, leaving their wives, daughters and little ones in their ruthless hands? (Numbers 13:31-33;14:1-4)
Actually, no. No, it wouldn’t be. It would not be better to turn tail and run in fear. It would not be wiser to trade their faith for doubt. It would be cowardly. It would be contemptuous. It would be costly. Immensely costly. They would learn it the hard way. Angry with their contempt and refusal to have faith in His promise, God visits Moses, revealing His plan to strike the rebellious people down with a plague. He would kill them all and build up a nation of constitutionally stronger souls to be counted as His own. In a move of undeserved grace, Moses spoke on behalf of the wayward, cowardly, grumbling people, and asked for mercy. Begged for leniency. And God relented. Forgave their sins. Kept them as His people. But love and forgiveness do not negate consequences, and the ramifications of their doubt were steep.
They were all going to die. Not right then by a sweeping plague, but before leaving the wilderness. With the exception of Joshua and Caleb, not one of those 20 years old and older who grumbled and complained, doubted and desired to turn back would live to enter the Promised Land. They would die in the wilderness. Watch their children endure the harsh existence of that place, herding sheep and waiting out the 40 years of their exile. Never would they see the enormous clusters of grapes or taste the bountiful figs and pomegranates. Their doubt had made them miss it all. The promised blessings. The proffered goodness. The prosperous life God had carefully planned for them. They would miss it all. It’s what their doubt would cost them. (Numbers 14:10-38)
There’s something so familiar in the cries of the Israelites as they wail, “Wouldn’t it be better to head back to Egypt?” Perhaps because the premise is so familiar. Maybe because, at some point in our lives, we have all said something similar. Perhaps because there have been, are, and will be times when things get unpleasant or uncomfortable and the evil one sidles up beside us to mention that things were better before. Before we committed our lives to God. Before we set out to do His will. Before we fully consecrated every part of our hearts and souls and minds to follow God alone. The evil one says things were easier when we were still in charge. He insinuates things were better when we were forging our own path. He claims we were less stressed, had fewer worries, made more friends, were more successful when we were making our own decisions. And, if we aren’t careful, we believe him. (II Corinthians 11:14)
With a few well-whispered words, the evil one will have you believing God isn’t coming through with His promise. He’s taking too long to answer. His response doesn’t look the way you thought it would or should. He’s allowed issues and obstacles and problems to occur, and you’ve started to doubt His good intentions. You question His promise. You actively wonder if it wouldn’t be better to just quit following God’s path and forge your own trail. Maybe you mull it over silently in your mind. Maybe you mention it to a friend. Maybe you cry your question out to God in an exhausted, broken-hearted prayer. Maybe, in the middle of all your questioning and worrying and wavering, you should stop to wonder what your doubt will cost you. (Psalm 40:1; Psalm 27:13-14)
Because doubting God will cost you. Immensely. It will crowd your heart and mind with things that draw you away from Him. Anxiety. Worry. Fear. It will turn your focus inward. It will suffocate your peace. It will drown your faith. It will bring instability to your soul. Faith and doubt cannot coexist. So choose faith. Faith in God. Faith that He rewards those who diligently seek, trust, and follow Him. Even when the path is full of twists and turns. Even when it seems things have no chance of working out for your good. Even when you can’t fathom how your current circumstances can lead you to the place He promised. Have faith in God. Do not doubt. Doubt is too expensive. It could cost you everything. It could cost you the promised land. When weighed against the final fulfillment of God’s promise, is the cost of your doubt, the option of turning back, worth the price your soul will pay? Is your doubt worth anything? Is it worth everything? Is it worth your soul? What, exactly, will your doubt cost you? (Philippians 4:6-7; Mark 11:22; James 1:2-8; II Corinthians 5:7; Romans 8:28; Psalm 45:13; Hebrews 11:6)
So so good! Thank you again