Day 2924 of the 7 day Bible verse challenge.

Hebrews 11:26 NIV

A life spent wandering through the desert living on only hope and a little manna seems mighty silly to a world that loves all the creature comforts offered in this place. After all, this world is filled with things we can gain and treasures we can hunt and false fabrications of fake prosperity that we can hold up and show off to our friends in exchange for their awe-filled agreeance that our lives here are filled with meaning. But behind all the shine there exists an inescapable truth that all that glitters can only hide for so long:

It all ends. All the treasures we gain here get left here when we’re called elsewhere. All the trophies won are left to gather dust when we’re no longer around to keep them polished. And all the glory we garner evaporates once our final breath has done the same.

And yet, humanity still seems assured of this assumption that there is something of some significance to be found on this soil. Sadly, I think all of us still fall into that assumption as we still kind of look for rewards in this life, at least from time to time. Not necessarily the ones that shine or glimmer in the sunlight. Not the ones that we can proudly display on our walls and show off whenever company comes around. Not even the ones that hold some kind of monetary worth that we can rely on should we find ourselves in need.

But I think we still sometimes expect our faith to at least offer us some passing comfort or rest or relief during our stay in this heap.

And I think that's why we deal with so much inner frustration and agitation in life. It's because of this idea that got planted in our minds sometime in the past that told us that a life of faith was a life of not only ease, but also of continuous reward. And while it does carry ongoing rewards in the form of hope and assurance of some pretty incredible promises, we still carry around in our heads these minds that have learned a rather gross sense of impatience that serves as one of the greatest stumbling blocks over which we'll likely continue tripping until we simply stop living in expectation of anything in this life.

That's something that I've been working through personally for some time now. It's a letting go of all that I've tried to imagine, envision, invent in order to ensure the kind of gain I personally want for myself and my life. And that's something that all of us do. We call them dreams, plans, goals and passions. And while those things aren't all that harmless on the surface, they become incredibly problematic when they become the rewards that we expect to find through our willingness to follow Christ.

And that is the issue that I've realized I have personally constructed within the frameworks of my figuring out of this faith.

It's like we all approach this faith of ours as some sort of bargaining table in which Christ lays out the promises He has and the requirements He asks for in order to reach those eternal rewards, but we keep on writing our own counter-offers on little sheets of paper and sliding them back His way for His consideration. But when did we get any say in any of this? When did we find this audacity to assume that He's willing to negotiate?

Why do we expect Him to give in on His promises, considering what He did to achieve them for us, only so that we can find a quicker payout that's more in line with the worldly gain to which we've grown sadly accustomed?

I think the problem is that we're far more used to this world than we care to admit. We've spent so long agreeing that so much is so important that even when we begin down the pathway paved by faith that leads us away from such miniscule material monotony, we still carry this remembrance of all that we once sought to gain. I reckon it's just because we're undoubtedly creatures of habit, but that's the thing about this faith of ours and the new life it's meant to instill inside: Habits must die.

So even though there exists this assumption that there's something in this realm that's somehow worth gaining all because someone else told us that it has some value, we must eventually choose where it is that we truly believe true value to exist. Do we really believe that this world or our most delightful plans that we've spent so long perfecting for our time spent in it have any true worth? And I do not mean in terms of immediate reward or personal prosperity.

But does this world or our plans and desires and nigh demands for how we want our lives to go have any real value when compared to the calling of eternity?

That's what we see here in this recounting of Moses' faith. His faith wasn't in the Promised Land you see? His faith wasn't in some piece of temporary turf. His most sincere hope was not relegated to even the time in which he lived. His trust was in the coming of a reward greater than all the riches that he happened to be momentarily surrounded by. In other words, Moses knew something better, something richer, something far more valuable was waiting ahead.

And that's the same promise to which we should be looking. Not to all of the priceless rubbish that this world claims is worth chasing. Not to the promises of the fulfillment of our most perfectly plotted plans. Not to the demands of worldly peace or comfort or prosperity of any kind. But to the faith that tells us that what's waiting at the end of this desert road is more valuable than everything we may be able to have or hold or even endure in this altogether miniscule amount of time spent following it.

Which is the whole point of faith: It's timeless. It's not simply a pastime that affords us a fleeting escape from a mundane reality whenever the misery of ordinary life grows insurmountable. It's not a quick relief of worldly grief. Our faith is a life-long reminder that what matters most is what comes next. This time, this life, this world we're spending this trip in for the moment, all of it is nothing but that desert that Moses tried to lead a stubborn people through for 40 years.

And oddly enough, we tend to find ourselves more in line with the stubborn people crying out to run back to Egypt than the faithful Moses who kept trying to remind them of the empty life that they lived back there. We just keep looking back over our shoulders at the hollow life we always found happy enough. And when what we think we had is considered good enough, then following a road that strips away all those comforts will seem simply unnecessary.

I think that's why the people of Israel struggled so mightily all those decades in that desert. They had their minds fixed on the Promised Land as if it were nothing more than a piece of ground upon which they could stand and build houses and plant crops. They didn't realize that the Promised Land is God's presence. They assumed the Promised Land to be a cozy little valley where everything was already set up and all they had to do was gorge themselves upon all the milk and honey they could possibly consume. They, like we often do as well, assumed God’s promise to be confined to this world.

But if we think His promise is something we can find down here, then we are, as Paul says, "of all people most to be pitied."

Do we really think God would limit His promises to a world that He told us is passing away? Do we think Christ would have died just so that we could hope to find a worldly home with no eternal hope? Do we really think that the best God has to offer is something that can be bought or sold?

That's not what we claim to believe, at least not on the surface. We talk a lot in our faith about eternity and just how short this life is in the grand scheme of forever. But if we truly believe that, then why is it that we still get so upset when things down here don't go our way? Why, if eternity it the promise, do we still seek some kind of temporary gain or passing profit in this world?

If we know that one day we'll be in Heaven's peace forever, then why do we still remain so adamant that we should have some peace here as well?

The riches of Egypt were gold and glory, much like the same idols much of humanity is serving still today. Only today, we've added things like social acceptance and selfish comfort to the list of things we find of utmost value. But are those things really enough to give our lives meaning? Are they worth enough to buy us eternal hope? Is gaining the whole world truly worth losing our souls or our sight of the promise we've been given through the cross?

Moses didn't think so. Abraham didn't think so. Joseph and David and Solomon and all the other big names of faith didn't think so. They didn’t even live in the time of the cross, let alone in all these years after that we’ve had to read and study and learn of that Gospel. In fact, Solomon, who is widely known as one of the richest rulers in history, only asked God for wisdom so that he might lead his people better. Why is that we manage to miss the lessons such as that from Scripture? Why is it that we no longer find knowledge of God and faith in His faithfulness as more value than wealth and health and worldly comfort?

Could it be that we've bought into this idea that faith is meant to make our lives only what we want them to be?

Our faith, as we so often teach it to others, hinges on a cross whereby everything changed. Through Christ’s sacrifice we find a realization that worldly life is in reality only death, and that true life is only found once a grave has been left behind. Because on that cross, Christ showed us once and for all that death is only the beginning and that there exists a power not contained nor confined nor even understood within this place.

And if there exists a powerful love such as His that cannot be contained, then why do we allow our dreams and hopes and preferred promises to be contained here?

The point is that we have to stop looking around at all the world has to offer and pick out the things we hope to get in return for our faithfulness in following Christ. If we seek only that which can be gained in this world in return for our following of Christ, then friends, we are only fooling ourselves. Because what He has in store is so valuable that money can't buy it, so big that minds can't imagine it, and so lasting that time can't limit it.

And so we should probably stop trying to limit it as well.

This road we're called to follow will inevitably involve either taking up our cross, or proving that we're not willing to die to this place. There's just no other possible outcome. Either we're all in and willing to show it, or we're not. It really is just that simple.

Moses led a stubborn people through the desert for 40 years. He was hated, doubted, argued with, fought against, and turned away from all along the way. And at the very end, the very best he got in this world from this life-long journey trying to lead people to something better was to sit atop a hill and view the land from a distance. He spent his life following a path that didn't even end with a comfortable home in the land he spent so long leading others to find.

In this life, we will be hated for following Christ. We will have people argue with us, turn against us, and doubt in what we hold tightly. We will have things stripped away. We will leave things behind. We will have to watch our hopes go up in smoke. And we will eventually have to come to terms with the fact that our promised land is not in this land and that we will never find a home in this place.

But if we truly believe in the promise that Christ told us it waiting, then none of those hardships along the way should matter much. None of the things we lose or have taken away should be mourned over. None of the dreams we watch float off into the impossible distance should cause us any sadness. Because we know something better than all of them is waiting for us.

And while we may not gain all that much in this world or from this world, if we truly know we've gained Christ, then what more are we still trying to find? An easier life? A little bit of peace in the little bit of time we have left here? A little bit of applause from a crowd who thinks our beliefs are foolish?

Friends, our reward isn't land. It's not peace that ends or time that stops or hopes confined to the limits of our seemingly unlimited capacity to imagine a perfect life. Our reward is hearing our Savior say "Well done." And if we believe in the opportunity to hear Him say that, then what else do we think is down here that’s in any way comparable?

This world is where we should seek only to find the daily bread that reminds us of God's provision all along the way to the ultimate promise that He sent His Son to remind us of, which awaits at the finish line of life. The worldly mind doesn't see much sense in refusing the riches held in this place. But to a heart that knows God's promises can't be confined, it isn't worth stopping for anything short of the eternal peace found only in Christ.

#LeaveNoSoulUntold