consequence

Moses and Aaron went from the assembly to the entrance to the Tent of Meeting and fell facedown, and the glory of the Lord appeared to them. The Lord said to Moses, "Take the staff, and you and your brother Aaron gather the assembly together. Speak to that rock before their eyes and it will pour out its water. You will bring water out of the rock for the community so they and their livestock can drink."

So Moses took the staff from the Lord's presence, just as he commanded him. He and Aaron gathered the assembly together in front of the rock and Moses said to them, "Listen you rebels, must we bring you water out of this rock?" Then Moses raised his arm and struck the rock twice with his staff. Water gushed out, and the community and their livestock drank.

But the Lord said to Moses and Aaron, "Because you did not trust in me enough to honor me as holy in the sight of the Israelites, you will not bring this community into the land I give them."

These were the waters of Meribah, where the Israelites quarreled with the Lord and where he showed himself holy among them. (Numbers 20:8-13)

Since I was a child, I have despised this passage.

I also recognize that I must wrestle with every characteristic of God that I find in scripture. I can't skip past this passage because I find it humanly unjust, or because I do not understand the ways of God, or by using the Old Testament argument.

This really happened, and it happened to the man I identify with most.

I'll be honest, with or without this passage, I have somehow accepted a mentality that great consequence is awaiting every one of my sins. Yes, it is theologically accurate to assume that each and every sin reaps the punishment of death, but many would understand Romans to mean that His grace has stripped us of the eternal sting of sin. And while most believers would conclude that some sins bear worse worldly consequence -- according to the effect our sins may have on another -- I have somehow come to bear an even greater burden:

I expect each and every sin of mine to rob me of a personal blessing.

I've never come out and said this. I don't theologically or cognitively believe this. But as the saying goes, the proof is in the pudding.

We are given little explanation as to why Job or Joseph had to endure such hardship to retain the position that God had in mind from the beginning. We are simply to accept that God blesses and takes away, and that we cannot fully understand why God chooses to do either. His decisions certainly are not standardized, nor are they "equal" in regards to worldly justice.

And maybe my struggle for perfection has me gravitating towards the harshest punishment I can fathom for a single sin, but when I read this passage in Numbers, I see myself. I see myself raising that staff, committing the deed, and losing everything I have worked for as a result.

But to be fair, God never promised Moses the blessing of crossing the Jordan. Job's story finished well because God found favor in him remaining blameless. Joseph may have lived a rough life, but his dream had to be fulfilled. More like Moses, I look at everything I have lost, and realize that God never promised me any of it. He never promised me a thriving ministry, the affectionate love of my family, or the privilege to be married and have ancestors like the stars.

Here's the God-defining question joggling in my brain: have I not received these blessings because God never promised them, or because I lost them on account of my own sin?

Reinforcements are in place. The most amazing people that have left my life have done so because of a single event. At the very least, it is the single event that has been offered as the reasoning behind the abandonment. In some cases, I can see the chain reaction of the single event and realize that the fallout could have been avoided through my obedience. These moments are actually easier to swallow. With other abandonment, I can only assume that being alone is directly linked to my sin.

This is why I can share an amazing Spirit-led conversation with someone, the kind that builds intimacy and brotherhood and is not easily forgotten, and find myself bewildered at their short memory. They have forgotten battling together for another man's soul. They have forgotten the way in which the Spirit enlightened both of us in conversation. They have lost the sense of joy and wonder for the miraculous works we have watched and demonstrated in unity. A single event supercedes all prior history.

It is not surprising then that I expect to be abandoned each time I raise my voice, or relax while someone else needs help, or do a double-take when a beautiful woman walks by me. In my impulsive moment of sin, is God willing to take away the people that matter most? Aside from God, nothing else matters to me but his children. What other blessing could be stripped that would get my attention?

Do I think this is an unfair standard? Sometimes. I think it's unfair when I watch a husband talk down to his wife, or a mother use her kids for personal gain, or a friend pressuring his peers into sin. Because most people seem to serve very few consequences for these actions, even for ongoing behavior. If God would take everything from me for striking the rock, what should I expect to remain? I will never be strong enough to uphold the Law in my life, and theologically speaking, I shouldn't be expected to live that way.

I know that this is one giant lie, and I'm tired of weeping over the uneven results of my sin. And if my consequences have nothing at all to do with my sin, and God is only wanting to demonstrate His glory through my circumstances, then I'm tired of being frustrated by what I do not have. But I can guarantee, the next time somebody amazing leaves me hanging, I will assume I have been in the wrong. I will look to my last sin and determine that the shoe dropped there.