Lessons from the Israelites #Dos

Lessons from the Israelites #1 is here.

Numbers is not a super popular book in the Bible. It has a lot of regulations and censuses (censi?). I think the title doesn't help matters much, either. Maybe if you like math.

Anyway, Numbers does continue the story of the Israelites, after the more popular episodes of Plagues, Red Sea Crossings, and the Golden Calf. The Israelites, at this point, are in the desert. I've always heard it referred to as "wandering," which made me visualize a kind of lost-ness to them. Not true. The Israelites had a pillar of cloud/fire as a roadmap. This thing led them wherever they were supposed to go. Pretty handy.

By the end of Numbers 9, the Israelites have gotten their tabernacle set up (according to some pretty specific regulations) and this is where the cloud/fire pillar camped, until it was time to move. Numbers 9:22 says, "Whether it was two days, a month, or a year that the cloud remained above the tabernacle, the children of Israel would remain encamped and not journey, but when it was taken up, they would journey."

Yeah, a year.

The Israelites are not a people that are often lauded for their faith. Since we hear a lot about their fear, and complaining, I generally think of them as a pretty whiney group of people. However, I kind of feel like this waiting for a year at a time, in the desert, took a little faith. I mean, I'd be thinking, "Hey, you think that cloud/fire pillar is broken?" Or, "You think that maybe it's not from God, maybe it's just a weird weather phenomena?" Or, perhaps more likely, I'd think, "Maybe this means we're supposed to set out on our own from here."

I'd probably also wonder about the placement of those encampments. I once went to the desert (somewhere near Nevada) and it is not comfortable. Or really interesting, for that matter.

Those Israelites may have complained and whined about many a thing, and maybe some of them really had those thoughts, but the Bible doesn't say. It just says, "At the command of the Lord they remained encamped, and at the command of the Lord they journeyed" (v 23a).

I often do not have that kind of faith. I am questioning. Sure, I don't actually have the privilege to see a literal pillar of cloud/fire, but there are subtle directions. I have wondered before why I seem to stay the same while my friends' lives change so much--moving for jobs, getting married, having kids, etc. Perhaps I am just encamped. I think my journey time is coming, though, and I'm excited.

some-

Today I read somewhere someone saying something along the lines of "I'm proud of you for fighting against what you want to do in order to do what you ought to do." I found that incredibly sad. I hope someday someone is proud of me for doing the opposite. The real trick, I suppose, is to want to do what you ought to do.

Snapshot Moments

Recently, I interviewed my best friend while preparing to write some sections of her wedding website (just a service I offer). I asked her when she knew that she liked the guy she will soon marry. She listed two distinct moments: one, when walking together on a sidewalk, he switched to walk on the side of the traffic; the second, when taking shelter in a cargo truck during a storm, he warned her not to touch the metal parts of the truck. While these moments alone do not make up their relationship entirely, they are almost tangible.

I love moments like that. Times when you could almost take a snapshot and point to it later, saying, "There! That's when I knew!" I can remember times like this in my own life.

The moment I realized my dreams of Broadway would never come true--I was singing out loud to Amy Grant when my mom asked, "Can you not hear that you are off-key?" I could not.

The moment I understood exactly where I stood with my director this past summer--he handed me the coveted golf cart keys. To me, those keys meant he respected me. I didn't even tell him I'd never driven one before.

The moment I knew my friends and I were "grown ups"--when saying goodbye one day, one of my guy friends told us to be careful driving back to school. Kids don't tell people to be careful.

But there are other times in my life when I cannot pinpoint a moment. There are no snapshots, not really even video. These realizations are more gradual, taking place over a long period of time, and more privately, perhaps.

I don't know why I decided to go to Union University.

I don't know how I became a writer. Or why I know I must write.

I don't know when I made most of my closest friends.

I think whenever it comes to big life moments and decisions, I hope for a snapshot moment. I hope that there is something tangible that I can look at and say, "That, that right there is how I know." But maybe I'll just keep going and one day will look back and say, "I don't know why I'm here."