The past three weeks Isaac Hunter at Summit Church (Orlando) has been preaching through Numbers in a series called “The Good with the Badlands”. It has been such an incredible series for me and Alastair as we felt very in tune with the transitions the Israelites were going through. Granted we are not stranded in the Sinai desert, but we also do not have columns of fire and clouds following us around either—and no Moses or Joshua to lead us or fight for us. So let’s call us even.

Now, my confession. I feel most aligned with the Israelites in their grumbling. Ugh. It makes me cringe to even say that. All the self-righteousness in me is squirming. Yuck.

I am good at grumbling. I would even say that I have it down to a manipulative art form used to better my position in life. The Israelites wanted meat, wah wah—poof—they get pigeons? I can do better than that.  I don’t want to pack any more boxes or leave my friends, “wah, why did I marry a Canadian, how did I let this happen, I am the best wife ever, I should go watch TV all day”. Packing stops, Hulu marathon starts.

I am making light of this because when it is funny I look better (ha, zing!). But it truly is a nasty and ugly part of my heart. I hate it in the story of the Exodus. I hate it in my life. The nature of entitlement, being demanding, not appreciating all that God and others have done, being blind to what is actually before you, I hate it all. Hate it.

I can be a pretty passionate lady, especially when I feel like I have been wronged. I get all high and mighty and put my hands on my hips and dig my heels in. Change makes me feel like I have been wronged. Moving has brought a lot of pain and discomfort and fear. You can guess my reaction. I grumble. I blame Alastair for moving me 3,700 miles away. I shut down. 

I wish I could say that Isaac’s wisdom has taught me to stop grumbling, but I think it is too deep for that. However, he has helped me see grumbling more clearly in my own life and God points at me and says, “pain, fear”. 

The pharisee in me says, “Stop grumbling, be grateful, be good, shut up”. The kid in me says, “It still hurts. I am still terrified.” 

In my nature is also analyzing myself into oblivion. But here God has used it to help me move forward. Grumbling is a “defense mechanism”. Instead of actually addressing the pain and fear, I push it onto God and others, blaming them, and getting bitter. Instead of actually crying and mourning my losses, instead of accepting this new reality, I focus on the past and demand that the past reappear now (which is impossible). 

Grumbling is a way of spinning my wheels. It is a way of not dealing with what is happening around me. It leads to procrastination (i.e. I am not moving another inch until you ______) instead of mourning and moving forward. It is a way of fixing the problem in my own power (give me pigeons) instead of healing the heart and its pain and fear. Grumbling feels like the better option because mourning and healing are painful, intangible, require time and trust. 

Ooooh. That is the word. Trust. (Big time counselor points). 

The Israelites do not trust Moses. They do not trust God. They are afraid they will die of thirst, hunger, and being baked alive in the desert sun. They do not trust. It is infuriating to me. Did they not just see God turn the Nile to blood? Did they not just see the Red Sea split? Did they not just see Pharoh’s army drowned in the middle of a desert? Have they not seen enough to trust Moses, to trust God? I mean there is a pillar of fire right in front of you for crying out loud!

Argh. I want to shake them. And then I see myself in their faces. 

Lord, have mercy. 

Grumbling is a wonderful sign of the inner workings of our hearts. It is not to show us we are bad people. However, it does reveal that we are vulnerable. Grumbling gives voice to our vulnerabilities. We say, I hunger, I thirst, I am weary and heavy laden. We say I cannot do this on my own. It is incredibly humbling to have our weakness and need on display. It is also painful and scary. And instead of just sitting there and trusting God to do his work, I grumble and try to fix it on my own. 

I hope to be humbled instead of grumbled (yes, that is a word now). I am tired. I do feel loss and pain. I am terrified. I want these feelings to go away, but I am powerless to change my circumstances and my pain and my fear. I pray. I cry. But most of all I will trust God and wait on him. I have learned a lot from the Israelites grumbling, mostly that God hears me, knows my pain and fear, and he will show up.