Last Saturday, we went to the Houston Zoo. Before we hit the park, we went out to breakfast with my mom, sister, Christopher’s friend, Alyssa, and the rest of us. While we were eating, we were laying out our plan for visiting the animals – where we would go first, what critters we were most wanting to see, the exhibits that had changed since the last time we were there. And, then it happened. “Of course, Dad won’t go with us in to the snake house.” Everyone laughed. Someone pointed at me. “No…he’s scared.” I can’t argue that. It’s a fact, a matter of record. If there was a line on my 1040, “Are you afraid of snakes,” I would gladly check that box and donate a dollar to study a cure for Ophidiophobia – the fear of snakes. Laura told a story of an experience I had 23 years ago, where I huddled up on the couch while my dad tried to sweep a grass snake out the back door. More laughter.
Mom looked at me. Ah…Mom would rescue me from this sneaky,
snake talk. She leaned up, crossed her arms, and innocently said, “Well, yes –
where did this terrible, crippling, debilitating fear come from?” The sarcasm
was palpable.
I told her about the time when I was five and I finally got to
help the neighbor big boys collect firewood for our campfire, but the stick I
grabbed wasn’t a stick. I told her about a TV character that I idolized who was
bitten by a snake and almost died on the show. I argued that my hero can be
bitten and die, what chance do I, a mere mortal have? Mom nodded in mock sympathy.
“Oh, you poor baby…how have you managed to survive all these years?” They claim
dogs smell fear; do snakes smell sheer terror? Obviously, I was not winning any sympathy
points. I gave up the debate and finished breakfast, grumbling something about how
I was not going into the snake house and no one was gonna make me.
I tell you this so you can understand why this morning’s Old
Testament strikes me every time I read it. They were growing impatient in their
journey and were more concerned about their own needs than faithfulness to God
and trusting His promises. They complained to Moses; they complained to God:
“There is no food or water,” they said, complaining even about the mana that
God had provided for them earlier. To be fair, it had been decades since they
left Egypt; it had been a generation that had eaten manna three times a day,
seven days a week, for ten…twenty…thirty plus years. Imagine, going to HEB Plus
– 60 rows of nothing but oatmeal. And the next day, the same; and the week
after that, the same. We can understand Israel’s grumbling…but that doesn’t
justify it, that doesn’t make it right to grumble against God.
When God hears the grumbling, His reaction is swift, strong
and decisive. He sends fiery serpents among the people who begin to bite the
Israelites. Many die from the painful bite. Don’t misunderstand God’s actions,
here: He is not vindictive, but He does this to cause Israel’s repentance. It
doesn’t take long. “And the people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned
against the Lord and against you. Pray to the Lord that he takes away the
serpents from us.”
This is a logical prayer request, isn’t it? It both
identifies the symptom – the snakes – and confesses the disease at the same
time – their sinfulness towards God and His servant Moses. Their prayer makes
the request that God removes the snakes from them so that people stop dying.
The people pray; Moses prays. It’s a good prayer; it’s a sound prayer – at
least a B+ rating. And God hears their prayer. God is good; God is holy, so of
course God will remove the snakes – right?
Except He doesn’t. He doesn’t remove the snakes – at least,
not yet - not as far as our text tells us, anyway. What He does do, however, is
tell Moses to make a bronze serpent and hang it on a pole. “Everyone who is bitten,
when he sees it, shall live.”
Why the bronze serpent? Why look at a bronze caricature of
the very animal that is causing so much pain, suffering and death? Why must one
look to the bronze serpent to live? Isn’t that God commanding idolatry – going
against His own 2nd Commandment? For that matter, why allow the children of
Israel to continue being bitten?
First, the power is not in the serpent, as if it were a god.
That was Egyptian thinking, that animals were diety. Likewise, it is not in the
sculpture, an idol. That was Caananite thinking. The power comes from the
promise of God: look at this and live. Don’t overthink this, that God is
promoting decision theology – you must decide to be saved. When you are dying,
how can you choose to live? God is providing the life-saving and life-giving
promise. Receive it in faith and you shall live; reject it and you shall die.
The bronze serpent also reminds the people that it is their
sinful complaining that has caused these snakes to appear in the first place.
Do not blame anyone but themselves for this terror. The power of the promise of
God stands over and against the sins of the people.
But why allow the Israelites to continue to be bitten? Why
not simply drive the slithering reptiles away so that they would all be safe?
If the snakes were to disappear, the temptation would then be for Israel to
turn back into their arrogant self-reliance and away from trust in God and His
promises. With the snakes remaining, Israel must rely only on God’s mercy in
the face of their sinfulness; His grace in the face of their destruction.
It all started with the grumbling. What’s the big deal, we
think, after all we grumble all the time. This morning, we’re grumbling about
the time change. Some grumble about having to wear masks; others grumble that
people refuse to wear masks. We grumble about a teacher who assigned homework
over the break. Or, the increasing cost of gasoline, or the length of our daily
commute to work or school. Maybe we grumble about family at home, or family far
away who never calls home. Grumble when it’s too hot or when it’s too cold;
when it’s raining or when it hasn’t rained in weeks. Parishioners grumble because
of the length of the pastor’s sermon, pastors grumble because of the comments
made about his sermon and we grumble when no one says anything about it. We
even grumble because people next to us are grumbling. Do you get the idea that
we, as children of God, grumble a lot? And, yes – sometimes we grumble against
God Himself: God, why did you; God, this isn’t fair; God, I thought you
were…
God doesn’t send snakes among us today, at least not that
I’ve heard about, but that doesn’t mean the firey bites don’t still happen.
There is a venom that courses through our hearts and minds. It shows up when
you feel pessimistic about your life. It appears when you don’t see people in a
positive light and instead, you assume the worst about people. When there’s a
lack of peace, a discontent with what the Lord has given you. When you become
unthankful, or even bitter. This is the kind of venom that courses in our
veins.
What’s even worse is what that venom does with our
relationship with the Lord. Remember – venom is toxic. That grumbling,
complaining, negativity and bitterness – it causes you to lose focus on God’s
gifts and blessings and seeing His hand in your life. Then praise and
thanksgiving starts to more and more shallow and less and less frequent. It can
become so toxic that you actually start to wonder what God is doing, why He
even bothers with you, if it is worth your trying to be His child.
You notice what Israel did…they confessed their sin of
grumbling, and they looked up and lived. You know what it is that we do…we
confess our sins of grumbling, and look up and live. You don’t look up to a
snake on a pole; you look to Christ on the cross. When Jesus is lifted up on
the cross, the pattern is true for us as well: recognize our sins, confess them
to our Lord, and look up in trust and live.
The cross is not a magic talisman, that if you look at this
object, this wood or bronze or stone or glass or foam or paper cross gives life
– no. The cross is the place, the locatedness, where God hung His Son so that
whoever looks at Christ in faith, the Savior of the World who died on the
cross; when you look to the cross as the place where your salvation was won,
you shall live. The cross is the place where your grumbling and complaining and
negativity and venomous outbursts all died in Christ and with Christ. And the
cross is the place where, in Christ and through Christ, you receive life.
You look up at Jesus lifted up and you are raised up and you
give thanks. Thanks replaces the grumbling.
Complain about family? No…give thanks you have a home and
people there who love you. Grumble about a co-worker? No, give thanks that you
have employment that provides for you and your family. Grumble about the
weather? Give thanks for the rain and sun, the warm and the cool that makes the
flowers and plants grow and produce beauty and food. Grumble? No…give thanks.
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