
Author: A Little Faith Lift…Finding Joy Beyond Rejection
www.alittlefaithlift.com
AWSA (Advanced Writers & Speakers Assoc.)
A Day in the Life of an Israelite
Sometimes, I think about how the wandering Israelites did what they did. God asked them to sacrifice…if they wanted to be blessed. You and I have Leviticus and Numbers and Deuteronomy at our fingertips, and I can’t even graph on paper on what occasions they were to offer up their unblemished bull or sheep or bird. (Trust me, I tried.) And without fences or branding, how did they separate their animals from the other kajillion mammals running free?
On another matter, were there mirrors, or did that even matter? Think about their clothing and possessions. They had one pair of sandals. One outfit that, according to Deuteronomy 8:4, did not wear out. Never did they wake up and have to decide what color they were in the mood to wear that morning. Or look longingly at the rack of clothes that no longer fit…but sometime, might. Their kiddies did not have stuffed animal collections (like my grandkids do) that rival any carnival offering. There were no books or DVD’s, no newspapers or meteorologists or political rivals. What in the world did they discuss?
The Israelites’ Sabbath rituals centered around tabernacle worship and rest. No golf courses or Kansas City Chiefs to pull them away from their creator. No Sunday school classes for the children. No Sharkys or Lucci’s for lunch. No Walmart “shop-til-you-drop” outings for the family. Had I been the matriarch of a family back then, I pity any relatives dependent upon me daily kneading loaves of bread unless, of course, it was in remembrance of Passover. (Yeast and I are not friends.)
On a moment’s notice, they were to pack up their tents, animals, families and belongings (as few as they were) and leave for…well, wherever the cloud (by day) or fire (by night) led them. Not a big deal when they started out from Egypt because within a couple of weeks, they would be at their final destination. But because of their disobedience, there they were, 40 years later, still comin’ ‘round the mountain with no Promised Land in sight. Just wandering…and wondering, I imagine.
That being said, when I think of the things that fill my schedule (and my life), I sort of envy those who lived eons ago who had none of the entanglements we have. Their life was all about teaching their children about God, setting up the portable tabernacle, and waiting on God.
The choices that consume my day like “What shall we have for dinner?” weren’t even part of the Israelites conversations. Manna and quail and water from a rock. Manna and quail and water from a rock. Manna and quail and water from a rock. Every day. Every meal. And they didn’t even have to provide it. God did.
As I sit here this morning, scrolling through mashed potato recipes on my computer (and, of course, writing this article), I realize that my life is complicated because I make it that way. God expects from me what He expected from the Israelites: that no matter what I do, I follow Him, care for what He was given me, and teach others about His provision. And somewhere, in the middle of all of that, I think He wants me to clean out my closet and let those “too small” clothes be a blessing to someone else.










