On Easter, we celebrate God’s great reversal, yet many of us still carry wildernesses where things feel anything but right. Mary Magdalene was in such a wilderness in John 20 as she wept outside of the tomb. In the wilderness, we often cannot see when Jesus is right in front of us.
We’ve always been better at hailing the leader who delivers what we want than trusting the one God has actually sent. Way back in Numbers 12 and 16, even Moses’ own family turns on him for not being the kind of leader they expected. Can we see God’s working any more clearly than they did?
God had been leading Israel every step of the way—parting the Red Sea, dropping food from the sky, guiding them with a pillar of fire at night—and still, when twelve spies came back from the promised land, ten of them said it couldn’t be done, and the crowd went with them. Numbers 13 and 14 ask a question we face too: when the majority says no, does that settle it?
When fear and uncertainty close in, we don’t just want comfort—we want control, something solid we can hold onto. In Exodus 32, Israel melts down the very gold God gave them in Egypt to cast a god they can see, and the impulse driving that golden calf is closer to our own hearts than we’d like to admit.
What looks successful is not always healthy, especially when everyone depends on one gifted leader. In Exodus 18, Jethro watches Moses carry the people’s disputes from morning until evening and warns that both Moses and the people will wear themselves out. How does God actually intend his people to serve together?
We forget so quickly—and when we forget what God has done, we start to feel alone. That’s exactly why, in Numbers 9, God tells Israel it’s time to keep the Passover: not because the exodus needs to happen again, but because his people need to taste his faithfulness again.
When you’re in a wilderness season—the kind that doesn’t feel like a season at all—the doubt that creeps in isn’t usually about theology; it’s simpler and sharper than that: Is God really with me? That’s precisely the question hanging over Exodus 3, where God meets Moses in the wilderness and answers it not with reassurance alone, but with His name.