We’re studying the wilderness wanderings of God’s chosen people: His firstborn nation was like a new baby: delivered, joyful, crying, feeding and fussing, learning to walk.Without bread, they’d be dead. For the flock, water from a rock. For dirty deeds, Moses pleads. Though they strayed, the pillar stayed.
My walk with God is like that: my deliverance from slavery was just the beginning of getting to know Him. I was a new baby. Sometimes I still forget He’ll provide, and that He loves me. But amidst decades of wandering, God shows me things—one after another. I’m learning.
But one thing is sure: I don’t know everything. In my case, learning “in succession” can be slow-going: when I die, no doubt there will still be a boatload that I never had eyes to see.
It took me way too long, for instance, to begin understanding the grace of God. I was influenced by legalists, who are destructive to the joy of genuine faith. They kept a list of things they thought they had done perfectly, and wrote up a list for me to subscribe to. Though my shackles fell off in 1982, they were trying to put them back on. Thankfully, shackles didn’t match my outfit (which is white as snow). Besides: my Savior bought me. I’m nobody’s slave.What legalists think is not my fault. All I can do is be light and salt. And if I’m fallow, wobbling, or blurred, I’ll keep trekking along—with God and His Word. And if somebody lies, calling me slack, The pillar is behind me: He’s got my back.
As I continue this walk with God, into my golden years (or whatever), it’s such a comfort to know, through all my wanderings, that God’s grace remains. Christianity isn’t about being perfect; it’s knowing I’m not. And knowing the Deliverer.