Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

She should have kept her mouth shut. Desperately wished she had. No matter how strong her distaste. No matter her feelings of being replaced. No matter how much better she believed her brother could have done than this foreign floozy. She should have kept it all to herself. The ugly words about his wife. The questioning words concerning his leadership. The arrogant words suggest she and Aaron could talk to and hear from God just as well as Moses. From somewhere deep in her soul, released by her annoyance with her new sister-in-law, a well of angry, jealous, pretentious words spilled from her lips, illuminating the true content of Miriam’s heart. 

It was not her finest moment. She knew it. Aaron knew it. God knew it. Unfortunately, Moses was about to know it. They had all been summoned. All three were to appear in front of the Tabernacle to meet with God. It would no doubt be a harrowing experience, the wicked thoughts and desires of her heart paraded for all to see. There would be punishment. She knew it. Over and again God had reiterated that, although His love was endless, He wouldn’t leave sin unpunished. And she had most definitely sinned. Egregiously. (Exodus 20:5-6; 34:6-7)

Dragging the toes of her sandals in the dirt, Miriam slowly made her way to the designated meeting place. She didn’t want to go. Didn’t care to attend. Didn’t dare miss the appointment. It wasn’t optional. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo in her chest. Dread and anxiety melded together, forming a tight knot in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t care to meet Aaron’s gaze. His face would surely be filled with accusation. She couldn’t make herself glance in Moses’ direction. His loving smile would soon be replaced by a wounded frown as he was blindsided by her attempted insurrection. She really didn’t want to face God. Didn’t want to hear His disappointment. Didn’t want to feel His wrath. Didn’t want to know His just punishment. Deserving though she knew she was, Miriam wished the confrontation and ensuing fallout could be avoided. It couldn’t, so she reluctantly took her place beside her brothers.   

Called to come forward, Miriam and Aaron stood trembling before the obvious wrath of God. Regret etched their ashen faces. Guilty heads hung low. Words failed them as they stood before God to give account of their previous conversation. No excuse could be made. None was available. Their words had been unkind and unwarranted. Untrue. They knew the relationship Moses had with God. Knew their own relationships with God were nowhere near the same. Moses’ relationship was personal. Nearly palpable. His information and directions weren’t carefully gleaned from visions and dreams. No. Moses took instruction directly from the lips of God, an event neither of them had experienced. Ever. They had never heard God’s actual voice themselves. Had solely relied on Moses for guidance and direction. Yet, when frustration and irritation boiled over, they presumed, through the darkness of their own hearts, that they could lift the mantle of leadership from Moses and set it on their own shoulders. Except they couldn’t. Because God wasn’t having it. 

He said it in no uncertain terms. God was angry. At them. At their words. At their motives. And He had the right to be angry. Not just because they had been busily brewing a method to abscond with Moses’ leadership. God had the right to be angry that the people He had chosen to aid Moses in the monumental task of leading the Israelite nation to the promised land were so inwardly focused. He had the right to be angry because their hearts were so full of arrogance and selfishness that they would deign to promote themselves above God’s chosen leader. God had the right to be angry that, at a time when they should have come alongside Moses, shown their support, and portrayed true holiness, they were busy gossiping and backbiting and stirring up trouble. God had the right to be angry and disappointed and heartbroken that Miriam and Aaron were more concerned about their angst with Moses and discontent with their leadership rank than they were about their own obvious lack of relationship with God Himself.

For reasons to which we are not made privy, Miriam bore the brunt of the punishment. Perhaps she initiated the entire situation, started the conversation, exacerbated the issues. Maybe Aaron simply nodded his head in agreement as his older sister spat her venom and hate. It doesn’t really matter now. As the Spirit of God withdrew from them, Miriam looked down at herself to find she’d been stricken with defiled skin. Not just a little skin infection that would heal shortly with proper care. This was far worse. A sickness from which there was no recovery outside the miraculous. Every inch of Miriam’s visible skin was covered in leprosy.  

Never had isolation seemed like a blessing, yet, from her ragged hut outside the Israelite encampment, Miriam stared at her leprous skin and counted it such. She had gotten off lightly. Not because she deserved it. Not because Aaron had begged. Not because her contrition had been immediately forthcoming. No. Miriam would spend only seven days in excommunication from her friends and family simply because Moses asked. Pleaded, really. Begged God to spare her life. Offered an alternative punishment to the death that would certainly follow this particular form of illness. She didn’t deserve the mercy. She wasn’t worthy of the grace. Yet God chose to answer. Chose to spare her. At the earnest pleading of the brother she had unabashedly derided, God stepped in. Her death sentence was replaced with a seven-day excommunication. Seven days of lonely contemplation. One hundred sixty-eight hours of self-examination. Ten thousand minutes for Miriam to change her focus, lift her eyes, and set her heart and soul to follow God alone. And she did. 

Seven days after being handed a death sentence, Miriam emerged from isolation a new woman. Physically and spiritually. Her time alone had changed more than the state of her skin. It changed the state of her heart. What before had been cluttered with murmurs and complaints, envy and jealousy, selfishness and arrogance was now filled with the peace and contentment of God. Happy to resume her role as a prophet, musician, and leader of the women. Blessed to stand in support behind Moses. Her heart no longer yearned for power and prominence. Her mouth would no longer run to express her opinions. Her body wouldn’t suffer the consequences of her sin. Neither would her soul. Miriam learned in seven days what often takes humanity a lifetime to grasp. You are what you speak. (Exodus 15:20-21; Numbers 12:1-16; Deuteronomy 24:8-9)

It isn’t a big, well-kept secret. It is common sense. Your words matter. The ones you speak in private. The ones you yell in public. The ones you know you shouldn’t say. The ones you leave unsaid. The Bible is full of words about our words. Admonitions to guard our mouths, watch our tongues, think more, speak less. Even Jesus addressed the subject. Of all the topics we needed Him to cover in His three short years of earthly ministry, the words we speak made His shortlist. Because words are powerful. What you say doesn’t simply dissipate with the half-hearted apology you offer. The insult you hurled isn’t forgotten because you followed it up with a quick, “Just kidding.” The backstabbing, judgmental gossip in which you engage is not harmless because the words were spoken in secret. God hears. God sees. God knows. The heart you hurt. The reputation you smear. The damage you cause. Life and death are in the power of your words. Not physically. Spiritually. Your life. Your death. Your choice. (Proverbs 10:19; 13:3; 17:9; 18:21; 21:23;  Matthew 12:36-37; 15:18; Luke 6:43-45)

So watch your words. Let them be few. Choose them carefully. Speak life. Into your own soul. Out of your own soul. Refuse to engage in idle gossip, malicious slander, or destructive meddling. Don’t air your grievances to every ready ear. Keep your opinion to yourself. Shut your mouth. Unless you have something kind to say. Unless your words have been vetted by the Holy Spirit. Unless you are busy encouraging, uplifting, and supporting one another to follow hard after God. Hold your tongue. Inspect your words. Examine your heart. The state of the second determines the quality of the first. Although they may be an inaccurate description of the one you choose to slander, your words will be an accurate description of your heart. Choose them wisely. Your tongue will tell the tale. You are what you speak. (Ecclesiastes 5:2-3; Ephesians 4:29; Exodus 23:1; James 1:26; 4:11; Psalm 141:3; I Thessalonians 5:11; Psalm 19:14; 139:23-24)