Knowing the will of God can sometimes be a “given”. Take my sons, for instance. I have one daughter and three sons (all grown). My daughter is the oldest and for the most part she was predictable. If I said go, she went. If I said stop, she stopped.
After I had her I thought I knew a lot about raising children. Right. Then I had my three sons. I discovered I know NOTHING about raising children. If I said go, they stopped…or worse they scattered. If I said stop, they ran. You’re getting the picture – unpredictable.
We lived in rural northern Missouri for 20 years and for my sons (and my son-in-law), the world was their playground. When the boys wanted to go fishing (which was pretty often) they walked to the river and went fishing. I didn’t worry about where they were or what they were doing because everyone in town knew them (I was the newspaper editor for the county paper) and if they did something dangerous I would invariably get a phone call. I had eyes all over the county watching my sons.
For the most part, I didn’t worry about them. My oldest son started working on local farms during the summer when he was 11 or 12 years old, either bucking bales or doing odd jobs. He loved working on the farm. My middle son started his own lawn mowing business when he was twelve. He would mow lawns, do odd jobs, and drink lemonade with his customers. My youngest son started doing gardening work for people when he was twelve. They worked hard and looked forward to going to work. Since the word “allowance” wasn’t in my budget (or my vocabulary) they earned their own money and bought their own cars.
By the time we moved to the city, my older two sons were in college and my youngest son was a senior in high school. Since my youngest son was 2 years old when we moved to a town of 300 people in NW Missouri, living in the city was a new experience for him. The first time he went out late I gave him specific instructions about letting me know exactly where he was at and if he went somewhere else I told him to call me to let me know (pre-text days). Naturally, he ignored my instructions (old habits die hard). When he got home I asked where he went and he told me. Then I asked why he didn’t call. He said, “I was fine, Mom. Don’t you trust me?”
I explained it wasn’t a question of trust. It was a question of safety. If he was ever in a car accident and went down a ravine, how would I know where to look for him? What would I tell the police when they asked where he had been and where he was headed?
Oh, he hadn’t thought of that. Having lived in places where everyone knew him, and everyone in his family made a huge difference. People would be able to say, “yea, I saw him headed south of town at 8pm.” Now, no-one knew him and looking for him would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
No-one in this new place knew he was my son. No-one here knew his brothers.
So it was with the people of Israel. As they wandered in the desert if they stayed in contact with God and “followed” they would remember and resemble God. Others then would know they belonged to God, the One true God instead of all the other gods.
God’s will was that they would stay in contact with Him, so they would have the benefit of his counsel, knowledge, love, peace, joy...
God’s greatest desire is that we would spend time with Him. As we stay connected to Him we get a greater sense of what God is up to in our lives.
Just like my son who left familiar territory where he was “known” it was important for the people of Israel to stay in touch with Papa – God – YHWH. It was God who KNEW them, and God who loved them. When they stayed in touch with Him they were in touch with His thoughts. It really is true that the more time you spend with God, the more you will know the heart and mind of God. Do you suppose that's why the people of Israel wandered in the desert for 40 years? Hummm...
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