The first war Israel had to fight after becoming a free nation of people is seen in the latter half of Exodus 17. Their enemy, Amalek, and his army attacked the nation of Israel unprovoked and in a reprehensible way. Instead of attacking Israel’s camp head on, they attacked them from the back. In ancient times, the elders, leaders, and strongest among a group would be out in front, leading the way and providing the protection needed for their more vulnerable members located in the back. Taking up the rear were usually women, children, elderly, and the infirm. For Amalek to surprise attack Israel and target their defenseless citizens was not only below the belt but despicable and cowardly.

It seriously boggles my mind how quickly Israel could forget God’s goodness, mercy, and provision towards them. The Jews left Egypt and began their journey in the wilderness in Exodus 15, and here we are in chapter 17 and already we’ve seen 3 different iterations of them having a need, shaking their fists and Moses and God about it, not trusting in God to fill it, and God supernaturally proving Himself by fulfilling their need with a miracle. And what’s worse is that those are just a couple of chapters at the beginning of a 40 year-long journey! We know that there are still many, many more times that Israel repeated that same pattern.

But we are the same way. And just think: If Israel found it hard to rely on God and constantly fell into habits of questioning Him despite the miracles and wonders they witnessed, how much more so is it for us?

The Israelites ate manna for all forty years they wandered in the wilderness. For a younger generation of Israelites, that was for all their lives. Think about that: Every day, for forty years, everyone would go out at the break of dawn and sweep up manna. And even though manna is known as “bread from heaven,” it didn’t drop down from the sky in loaves. Angels didn’t deliver it to the entrances of each tent wrapped in a tea towel and warm from God’s heavenly oven. No, every morning, Israel would wake up, head outside, and sweep up the manna– it materialized in the morning dew and as the sun rose, the water would evaporate off and leave behind a small seed the size of coriander or a mustard seed. Because it was so small and fine, most people swept it up rather than gathering it piece by piece; which they had to do early in the morning, because as the sun rose later in the day, that manna would also melt away.

This week, I met a new friend for dinner. While praying to bless the food, I said something along the lines of, “Lord, give us the courage to walk in your will.” When I finished, she asked me what I meant by asking for the courage to walk with the Lord. And I sort of paused, because it’s something I have been asking God a lot lately in my personal prayers. Have you ever been praying to God for something, and in your own mind the path from A to B is obvious? Have you ever mistaken that easy, obvious path as God’s will? Or maybe God closed the door on that route and left you feeling confused. Why would God tease us with something that seemed like an answer to prayer, only for it to pass right over us?

In 2014, back in the days before this website existed, God laid it on my heart to go on a mission trip to Africa. At the onset, I thought the obvious path was to go with a family friend that had an organization in Tanzania. That mission would consist of traveling in the African bush, visiting tribes and ministering to them over the course of about two or three weeks. There were months of planning, between figuring out what vaccines I’d need, supplies, putting my finances in order to fund it, and travel logistics. Finally, it came time to buy the plane tickets and try as I did, confirming a booking proved impossible. I’d have the tickets, pick my seat, enter my payment information, and submit, but for some reason each time I tried, the seat was no longer available. This happened several times with multiple airlines before my mom stepped in and voiced my own concern: Something wasn’t right.

As Christians, we know not to sin. That’s pretty obvious, and for the most part, maybe it’s easy to refrain from those big ones: murder, theft, adultery, gossip, etc. But what about those sins that seem little and insignificant? What about a complaining attitude? Sure, complaining seems like a harmless thing to do. After all, isn’t it bad to keep our feelings bottled up? Isn’t it healthy to vent? How does a little complaining hurt? To that I say, it’s not so much about venting. It’s about the habits that constant complaining naturally leads to. In all truth, if we truly lean on God and trust Him to keep us and provide for us, what do we have to complain for?

If you witnessed God parting the Red Sea and were a part of all the rejoicing and worship that happened immediately after, how long would it take for you to become desensitized to that experience? How long would it take for you to fall back into complacency, doubt, or an overall questioning of God’s timing, wisdom, plan, etc? A few weeks? A month? A year? Do you know how long it took Israel to go from triumphant praise at the awe-striking power and provision of God to grumbling and complaining over external hardship?

Have you ever stood in front of nature and been completely in awe of the awesomeness of God? For me, I was a teenager standing on the Maid of the Mist, a little boat that launches out of the New York side of Niagara Falls and sails into the horseshoe at the bottom of the falls. Standing at the bottom of this huge waterfall, water hurdling over the edge and crashing with such force into the river below that it ricochets into a hazy mist that drenches everything.

The devil is a roaring lion. He roars constantly. He roars during our persecutions. Asking why God would do what He’s doing? Why would He let us suffer in this way? Where is He? Has He forgotten you? He roars during times of uncertainty. How can God possibly work through this? Didn’t He say He loved you? Didn’t He claim nothing was impossible? Maybe that promise was for someone else. Not for you.

Service is so deeply important to the Christian lifestyle. It is something Jesus did, and so we are compelled to do it. He washed the feet of His disciples. He healed the sick. He taught the masses. He ministered to many. He discipled those who were meant to pick up where He left off when His work after the cross was done.

And He’s still working and serving us, a people who don’t deserve such tender care and affection.

When Sam and I were dating or newly married, whenever we went somewhere– be it a park, a concert, or an amusement park– Sam would without fail ask me to put his car keys in my purse. And then he’d ask me to hold his phone… and his wallet. It would always annoy me, because my bag would be brimming with someone else’s stuff. And Sam wasn’t the only person to do it. I’d have friends who would do it too. I guess it’s prone to happen when you’re the one in the group that always carries a bag. That bag was a safe place to keep those items people didn’t want to lose. And they would have been correct, because nothing was ever misplaced when it was in my bag.

Who read today’s key verse and made a double-take when Peter said, “For it is time for judgment to begin with God’s household?” Maybe that’s something that catches us off guard– that God would commence His judgment starting in His household, that is the family of God. But how many times do we pray a prayer that sounds like this: “Lord, let your move start with me. Let your change start with me. Let your kingdom come through me.” The truth is, a lot of the time, we ask God to start with us. If His kingdom is to be built on this earth, we want to be in on the ground floor. If He is going to shake things up and let His Holy Spirit move on earth, we want to ride that wave and experience it.

Love covers a multitude of sins. We love to quote that verse, but do we really live it? Do we really walk out the meaning of that in all we do, especially when we serve each other in the Church? The fact of the matter is, churches can be toxic. It’s something most churches love to ignore because they don’t want to own up or take responsibility for the fact that there are people out there walking around with some real emotional wounds inflicted by church people. It’s because as Christians, sometimes we forget that we’re supposed to be good stewards of God’s grace to us. We forget that we are supposed to be the example that God uses to draw others unto Him.

Imagine you have a huge debt. I’m talking six figures. Whatever it is– medical, educational, a mortgage– it is crushing and the interest rate on it means that you will be paying it off for the rest of your life. The payments on that debt are so high that you will have to work and work and work around the clock to try and make it. Forget about vacations, luxury items, and eating meals out. You’re just lucky to have food on your table. Everything you think about, do, and work towards seems to have that debt looming over it, shadowing everything. No hope, no relief, no peace.

When I’m angry at someone, the last thing I want to hear is that I need to be the bigger person. I think that’s a normal response to being told to take the high road when you’d rather slum it on the low one. And there will be times when it almost pains you to take the high road. Because the person that’s hurt you has hit you so close to home that your heart breaks. Or because someone you love or trusted is the one who did the damage.

Is Jesus precious to you? Don’t just knee-jerk answer that. Don’t just give it the answer you think makes you look good to other people. Really think. Do you value Jesus as precious every moment of every day? Do you treat him the way He deserves? Do you regard Him above all else in everything you do?