It pains me to admit it, but one of my nicknames growing up was “the whiner,” as in one who whines incessantly. Whenever I would find a reason to complain about something or other, one of my family members would say, “Oh no, here comes the whiner again! Are you from the whiner family?” Now, as cruel as this may sound, it did eventually teach me a few valuable lessons. I learned that people generally do not like to spend too much time around those who are overly negative. I learned that complaining didn’t make me feel as good as expressing gratitude does. Perhaps most importantly, I learned that grumbling all the time is not very effective in getting what I truly want or need. Thankfully, these days, nobody calls me “the whiner” anymore (at least not to my face), but as I reflect on those early years of my life, I can’t help but wonder if whining is a necessary stop on the path of faith.
I don’t know how many fellow grumblers are here today, but if you’ve ever found yourself in a spiral of negativity, you’re in good company. Here in the desert, we find God’s chosen people, the nascent community of Israel, complaining like it’s nobody’s business. Granted, they have every reason to protest; after all, it’s only been a short time since they narrowly escaped slavery in Egypt. And now, they’re out in the middle of the desert without a reliable source of food or shelter. Hunger and exhaustion have sapped even their will to live. The Israelites are now in such dire circumstances that they begin to wish they never left Egypt. Slavery seems preferable to what they’re experiencing now.
Now, maybe there’s some exaggeration in there, but the anguish is very real. In moments of deep physical and emotional turmoil, lament often seems to be the only option. Perhaps none of us have ever been stranded in the desert without food, but I’m quite certain that every person here has gone through times of great struggle. Some of us have dealt with extreme financial difficulties or even poverty, others of us have suffered with depression and anxiety, and most of us have experienced the loss of loved ones. There are times when expressing our frustration is a natural and even necessary part of being human. It’s not whining; it’s a release valve for the pain that dwells within us.
Over the past six months or so, we’ve heard (and perhaps taken part in) our fair share of lamentation. Our whole world has seemingly been turned upside down by a microscopic germ, resulting in devastating amounts of loss and economic turbulence. Protests and demonstrations against racial (and other forms of) injustice are becoming all too necessary and commonplace. Political discourse has devolved into the basest forms of mockery and deceitfulness. There’s plenty to complain about, and it’s not unreasonable to express our grief and dissatisfaction about the way things are going. At times, like the Israelties before us, we may even feel like God is to blame for all of this.
The simple question on the minds of the people of Israel was this: If God brought us out of Egypt, rescuing us from Pharaoh’s armies, why isn’t God providing us with sustenance? Is God the deliverer also God the provider? We understand that we’re dealing with a powerful deity, but will the Holy One nurture us as well? Philosophically, it’s the difference between deism (the idea that God created the world and left us to our own devices), and theism (the idea that God is actively involved with creation, minute by minute, day by day). The issue here, as the Old Testament scholar Sara Koenig, puts it, is that they don’t yet know God enough.[1]
What does that mean, to not know God enough? Enough to what? Well, as silly as it may sound at first, allow me to illustrate by telling you about Jack. Jack was our first dog as a married couple, a cute little guy we found at the Humane Society in Indianapolis. He was about a year and a half old, a Beagle-Jack Russell mix, and his previous family had to give him away because they were barely ever home. So, my wife and I picked him out on the Internet, and while I was at work one day, she went to fill out all the paperwork and bring him home. I was so excited to leave work that day, so I could play with our new family member.
But as I walked in the door to our apartment, I saw my wife curled up in a ball on the couch while Jack was hunkered down under one of our end tables. A little confused, I asked, “So how’s everything going?” “He hates me,” she said. “He won’t even come near me. Every time I try to pet him, he just runs away and hides. I think we made a mistake.” After trying to console my wife for a few minutes, I leaned down and said hi to Jack, but he was even more terrified of me. The rest of the night, things didn’t change very much. We gave him food, we managed to take him for a walk, and we got in a few pets here and there.
As I laid in bed that night, I tried to get inside Jack’s head a little. Okay, he just lost his previous family. He was dropped off in doggy jail for a few days. Then, some stranger comes and takes him to a brand new place where he doesn’t know if he’ll be fed, walked, and played with. I guess I’d be kind of terrified as well! When the morning came, I went off to work again, hoping that this day would be a little different. Around lunchtime, I called home and asked how things were going. “He won’t leave me alone! He’s following me everywhere!” she said. “Well, that didn’t take long,” I said. “I guess he just didn’t know us enough to trust us. We rescued him, yes, but he didn’t have much of a track record beyond that.” From that moment forward, Amber and Jack were inseparable.
Sometimes, when it comes to God, I think we’re all a little bit like Jack. We’re not quite certain that God will provide for us, so we hide under our end tables and just hope nothing terrible happens. And thankfully, God doesn’t get mad at us or punish us for our lack of trust; instead, we get the same message that Moses gave to the Israelites: “Draw near to the Lord, for he has heard your cry.” Then, as they draw near, God gives them all the carbohydrates they can stand, raining down bread from heaven. Finally, they are free from slavery and they have a regular source of free food. They begin to see that God is not only powerful to save, but their deliverer is also their sustainer.
Well, that’s wonderful for them, but what about us? What about all the folks who are suffering around us these days? Where is the manna for us? Where is the manna for them? Perhaps what God has provided in these difficult moments is each other. Maybe we arethe manna that will provide sustenance and nurture to one another and to our larger community. Could it really be the case that we are the “flaky substance” that God will use to heal a broken world?
In Christ, we know that God came to us as the ultimate manna, the nourishment that we receive by faith. As we come to know and trust in Jesus, we receive a peace that passes understanding and a willingness to extend this peace and care to each other. We gain the ability to listen deeply to the cries (and even complaints) of those who are suffering and respond to them as God does: We have heard, we have listened, and we will respond with grace. So, let us receive the manna that God is always raining down, and let us be the manna the world so desperately needs.
[1] https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1329