This year, I gifted Sam a rather unusual gift. It was a framed illustration I drew of a three-legged stool. Without context, it’s a little bit of a head-scratcher, so let me clue you in. Recently, we heard a story from medieval church history. In 1625, King Charles I ascended to the British throne. Being of the Anglican church and a staunch believer that he had a divine right to rule the church as king, he was not a popular figure in Northern Scotland where the people were largely reformed protestant. Together with his archbishop, the king introduced a book of prayer throughout the kingdom that was much more in line with the Church of England.

Could you imagine being Zecharias? He encountered an angel in the temple that told him he was going to be a father in his old age. His first reaction was doubt and he lost his voice as a result. This rendered him a mute for the entirety of his wife’s pregnancy; and as he watched the evidence of this miracle grow within his wife– the very proof he asked the angel for when he found out about his son– he was unable to rejoice in it with his words. During Elizabeth’s delivery, Zecharias could not offer her words of comfort or encouragement. In the first days of John’s life, Zecharias watched God’s marvelous plan unfolding in real time, in the midst of it and yet somehow sidelined at the same time.

For most, not being able to speak would be a severe punishment. Not being able to speak in the middle of a miracle would be even harder. And for Zechariah? He was about to experience the miracle of his lifetime. If you know about having a baby, you know that when it comes time to tell people you’re expecting, it’s some of the most exciting news to share with others. It’s news you’re bursting to give. And if you’ve experienced years and years of wanting a child, living through all the anticipation turned disappointment as time marched on well past the time where it was possible, then the news that a baby is finally on its way is incredible.

When I was growing up, Black Friday was a huge event. People would finish up their Thanksgiving meal and head out to camp in front of a store all night in the freezing cold to get in as soon as the doors opened early morning the next day. There would be news stories of people that were trampled and died trying to get the next best deal. Flash forward to this year, and you’d never even know that people would literally risk their lives to kick off their Christmas season. I don’t think I know one person that got up before dawn let alone ventured out to shop. Whether that has something to do with online shopping, the lack of sales, or money being tight, maybe we should take advantage of the fact that this Christmas isn’t starting off with the same consumerist kickoff it has in the past.

In every good marriage, there’s a worrier and someone who is not easily rattled. In mine, I take the position of the worrier, and Sam is the one who is always telling me to let things go. Even if you’re not married, you probably know whether you’ll end up being the worried one or the other half who will constantly be telling your spouse to take a breath and change their perspective.

I am dissatisfied. I don’t want to be but I am. It’s so easy to fall into a habit of discontentment. As a young person, I was taught that there would be so much to accomplish in all the areas of my life. I was praised by others constantly for my potential, talents, and promise. Naturally, as you grow older and make decisions in your life, it feels like that endless potential you’re told about when you’re in school grows limits. And that's a hard feeling to grapple with. You think to yourself: I’m almost x years old! I thought I’d have accomplished this by now! I thought I’d have this much in my bank account! I thought I’d be in a much easier place! Where did all that potential go?

It took Israel three months from their exodus of Egypt until they took up residence around Mount Sinai. In those three months, they saw the end of their slavery, deliverance from Egypt, they walked across the Red Sea, witnessed God’s miraculous provision of food and water, and won a war in God’s name. They saw evidence upon evidence of God’s love and care for them; His strength and power over their enemies and yet His protection over this chosen nation. Israel would go on to spend a long time in the wilderness of Sinai and a lot of their societal structure would be established there. Nevertheless, God wanted to meet His people at Mount Sinai the way He met Moses from within the burning bush.

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.