Trust in the Desert Days

The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Exodus 17:1-7

Trust in the Desert Days

The story starts in tears. The people of Israel cried out to God from the land of Egypt. At one time, long ago, in the days of Joseph, Egypt had been a place of refuge. But years past and so did Pharaohs and four hundred years after their arrival the people were no longer welcomed as refugees but feared as invasive outsiders. So came the hard labor. For these people, living now as slaves, Egypt was the only home they had ever known. Ten generations had lived and died, had married and buried, by the Nile. And then the winds shifted – suddenly and without warning.

But it wasn't the shift that caused the tears. It wasn't even the hard labor. The people cried out to God because the land of refuge had become, for them, a land of death. You see, hard labor was not punishment enough for their being different. The Pharaoh wanted to break this people, to put them in their place; and so he decreed a genocide – demanding that every Hebrew male child and infant be killed. He was cutting off the people at the roots. As the people watched their children die, their future die, they cried out to God – the desperate cry of a desperate people – and God heard their cry. And God saved them.

God split open the sea and let them pass through; God made the waters stand up like walls. It was the story they told to their children and their children's children. When future generations would ask them, “Who is God?” this was the story they would tell – the story of the Exodus, the story of the God who heard them and saved them.

God led them through the sea, out of Egypt, into the desert. But in the desert there was no food. And so once again, the people cried out to God and once again God heard their cry. And God fed them.

God fed them bread from heaven. And as if that was not enough, God gave them not only the bread that preserved their lives them but also meat that filled their bellies. They were hungry; they were starving; they were dying of starvation. And God saved them. It was a story they told to their children and their children's children.

Their bellies were full of manna and quail, but in the desert there was no water. And so once again, the people cried out to God and once again God heard their cry. And God split the hard rocks in the wilderness and gave the people drink as from the great deep. God brought streams out of the cliff, and the waters gushed out like rivers.

They were parched; they were thirsty; they were dying in the desert. And God saved them. It was a story they told to their children and their children's children.

Every time the people cried out, God heard their cry and God saved them. Every time. When they were dying in Egypt. And when they were starving in the desert. And when they were dying of thirst. Every time they were desperate, every time they reached the end of their capabilities and strength, every time God saved them. It was the story they told to their children and their children's children.

It was a good story of a good God doing for them good things. But not everything in the story was good. It was not that simple.

When the people got hungry in the desert, they didn't just cry out to God. They goaded God with memories of the good old days in the land of Egypt. “If only we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt,” they complained, “when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread. Rather then starve to death here in the desert.” Hunger is a legitimate crisis. But then again, God saved them from a genocide in Egypt. It was not all fleshpots and bread.

When the people got thirsty in the desert, they didn't just cry out to God. They goaded God with memories of the good old days in the land of Egypt. “Why did you bring us out of the land of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” Thirst is a legitimate crisis. They are in the desert; they had no water; the body, especially a child's body, can only go so long without a drink. But then again, God saved them and their children and their livestock from certain death in Egypt. It was not all wells and water.

They told these stories too. They told them to their children and their children's children. They remembered how they grumbled and complained against the God who saved them. And they didn't just remember in their minds. They told their children and their children's children; they preserved the stories on scrolls. So that, for generations to come, their people, their descendants, would never forget – never forget their doubts and never forget the God who met those doubts with provision and salvation.

And it is not just here, not just in these two instances. The books of Exodus, Leviticus, and Numbers are full of these stories. And if that wasn't enough, Moses is sure to remind the people again of their failures in Deuteronomy. They remember every time they complained against God and they remember the resulting disasters – the serpent attack, and the consuming fire, and the ground that swallowed some of the camp, and even this quail story takes a dark turn in Numbers when God feeds them so much quail that it comes out of their nostrils. They remember the golden calf and the broken tablets. They remember how every amazing act of God still could not dislodge the doubts in their hearts and their minds. God was good but it was not a perfect story. And they remember that.

You might think they would strike that stuff from the record, pass on only the highlights, preserve their ancestors, those who walked through the Red Sea, those who earned their freedom, as infallible heroes. But that's not what they did. They could have, but they didn't. They tell these desert stories and these desert stories do not make the children of Israel look all that good. In our modern times the tendency is to re-write history, to eulogize away the rough edges. There is always a strong urge to turn our dead into saints. But that is not the story they tell because that is not the story we need.

The desert days were all murky future, indefinite time, constant crises. The people were not superheroes; they were just people – fickle and scared and plagued by doubt. Sure, they watched the Red Sea split in two; they walked between walls of water on dry land. They experienced the power and presence of God in displays rarely seen before or since.

But the desert days were difficult. The people walked from the terror of Egypt directly into the desolation of the desert. They did not walk from the Red Sea into the Promised Land. But without the desert days, they would have never entered into the promise. The desert wasn't easy but they learned something about God in that desert that could be learned nowhere else.

We are entering today into our stewardship season. Church veterans know that that means we're gonna talk about money this month. But stewardship is not really about money; money is only a symbol of a much deeper issue – one that the children of Israel truly grappled with in the desert. The big question is not how much should I give but can I trust God with my life? That was the central question of the desert. It is also the central question of stewardship. Can I trust God with my life?

It seems silly at times how often the Hebrews complained in the desert. The complaining begins almost immediately after the Exodus miracle. And as a reader, long removed from the moment, it seems to me impossible that the people would ever doubt God again after God pulled off an impossible rescue. God saved them from death – in the most dramatic way possible – and still the question remained in their hearts and minds: Can I trust God with my life?

And that is why the people remember these stories. That is why they told these stories, doubts, failures and all, to their children and their children's children. Because it is easy to trust God in the good times. But sometimes the rocks run dry. And then what?

There is a pattern to these stories. The crisis comes. The doubt creeps in. The people panic. They lash out against God. They cry out in desperation. And every time God saves them. Every time God saves them. And then the next crisis comes and the pattern repeats.

They have their doubts but God always comes through, always proves trustworthy. The people finally learned to trust God in the desert. Now I'm not saying stewardship season is our desert...but, in a sense it serves the same spiritual purpose. Can we trust God with our lives? Every pledge card, every offering plate, confronts us with that question. Do we trust God more than our savings account? Do we trust God more than the fleshpots in Egypt? And it is difficult because those fleshpots, the people could see them and touch them.

Can we trust God with our lives? The children of Israel, they had their doubts. And yet, despite their doubts, God saved them every time. Met their every need. Heard their every desperate cry. And this is the story they told their children and their children's children. This is the story they passed down to us. The story reminds us that trust in God has never come easy. But the story also reminds us that, of course, the answer to the question is yes.