I once heard a profound – and memorable – analogy from a youth worker: “People are like zits. When pressure is applied, you discover just how much nastiness is hiding under the surface.”
With that visual in your mind, think back to Exodus 17. The people are still wandering in the hot, dry wasteland of the Sinai Peninsula. They’ve traveled a while – we don’t know how long – and they finally arrive at an oasis, a place where there’s supposed to be water… but there isn’t any. And the Israelites don’t exactly respond well.
But before you go judging them, imagine that feeling. You’re hot and tired. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. Imagine hearing your small children say, “Daddy, I’m so thirsty.” “Mama, can I have some water?” And you have nothing to give them. The water ran out miles ago. Now – dusty and weary – Moses and the Israelites follow the cloud to an oasis. Finally! There’s water!
But it’s dry. And you’re trying to calculate how much further your kids can make it… how much further you can even make it. And as you study the miles of dry desert around you in the bright glare of the sun – with no sign of water anywhere – you begin to get angry. What began so happily as liberation now feels like a death march, following a guy who seems utterly lost. If he had any clue where he was going, why would Moses have led them in such a roundabout way to get to Canaan? And this God we’re all following? He doesn’t seem to know where He’s going any more than Moses, and if He does, then He sure doesn’t seem to care about us. “The Israelites began to grumble” seems like it’s probably an understatement.
How would you react in those circumstances?
Israel “grumbled against Moses,” to the point where he began to fear for his life. And whether they knew it or not, this was more than just doubting Moses. Their fragile trust in God’s provision began to crack.
But once again, God was patient. God – Jehovah Jireh, the One who provides – squeezed water from a rock. Moses hit the rock with his staff, and pure, cool spring water flowed out – enough for the millions of Israelites to drink their fill.
In Richard Foster’s book, Celebration of Discipline, the chapter on fasting is really good. He treats fasting (from anything) as almost a sort of “detox.” In the chapter, he points out that the first few times people voluntarily give up food, they typically get really cranky – even in the midst of a day supposedly devoted to prayer. I know this has been the case for me, and I can’t help but remember the youth worker’s analogy. Apply pressure – in this case, lack of food – and it doesn’t take long for the nastiness in me to show itself.
How about you? When God applies pressure… what comes to the surface? How do you respond when something significant is withheld from you? Maybe it’s not food or water. What else – if taken from you or withheld for a time – would make you doubt God’s goodness?
How do we change that? How do we grow so close to Christ that when everything falls apart and the world looks at us with pity – like they did Job – that our strength, our unshakeable hope is in Him alone? How we react under pressure speaks volumes about our faith.
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